After joining the argument between Faust and the man, the woman finally managed to calm them both down and get them to sit at the dinner table. However, the exchange of glances between Faust and the man continued for minutes—long, intense, and full of anger.
The warmth of the room was already gone; the cozy reunion after months apart, meant to be heartwarming, had ended in what could be called, in plain words, a total mess. Faust was furious—not because his respect was ignored, but because it had been thrown back in his face.
The man, being old and grumpy enough to mistake Faust's respect and courtesy for disrespect or pity, sat there quietly yet aggressively, moving only slightly in his chair.
Meanwhile, the woman, while the two sat in tense silence at the table, was preparing the meal behind them. Out of fear, tears streamed down her face, dropping into the food like salt. The only thing she could do was silently pray: "God, I beg you, protect my husband from His wrath."
"Please forgive me for the previous disagreement," Faust began. "I was thoughtless, forgetting how your husband's age might affect his temper."
The woman wiped her tears from her shoulder, slowly turning toward Faust.
"It's quite all right, my dear. He's been harsh and irritable with the other villagers too, so it's nothing personal. Please don't take it to heart. And really, you don't need to speak so formally with us, you grew up in our han—"
Faust quickly raised his hand."I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'd prefer to correct that before you finish. Instead of saying 'you grew up in our hands,' it's better to say 'you grew up in my hands.' It sounds more fitting. After all, this man has never done anything for me—nor would it have mattered if he had," he said in a calm, detached tone, unfazed by the tension in the room.
The man began breathing heavily, as if he were swallowing his anger rather than releasing it—but for a moment, just for a brief instant, he lost his balance.
"WHO—WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, TO HUMILIATE ME LIKE THIS?!"
As the man stood up and his wife began trembling, Faust also rose to his feet. He approached the man, placed a hand on his shoulder, and leaned close to whisper, "Calm down."He then gently seated him back down and returned to the other side of the table, standing as he spoke.
"There's nothing worth making a scene over. No one is special. No one is good enough to be glorified, no one deserves to be revered or stood before with respect… except me," he said, eyes closed, head tilted back.
"I don't want to argue with you any longer. Sit down—and shove your pride up your ass, Faust."
"Grandmother, forgive me, but I'm afraid I can't trouble you any longer. Come, take my seat. I have to leave," he said quietly, moving toward the far end of the kitchen.
—But why? You haven't even eaten yet.
-Bah, let him go, darling. He only brings discomfort.
+As usual, your husband is right, grandmother. As for why I need to leave...
Knock! Knock! Knock! (The door raps.)
"Was that the door?"
+Exactly. And that means I really must be going now. Thank you for your efforts, take care of yourselves.
—Why, where are you going?
+There are others I must tend to. You're not the only ones with needs.
"Goodbye, old lovers. Perhaps next time, we'll share the same table again."