Carabas

I'm sitting at the foot of the banquet table at the McKittrick as the Macbeths come down the stairs. They're drunk. Lady Macbeth's laughing, leaning against her husband. There may or may not be others sitting around the banquet table with me - I have a vague impression of shapes in the chairs, but they're insubstantial. I'm not sure how visible I am, for that matter.

Macbeth picks up his lady and carries her to the dais with her legs wrapped around his waist. He takes her to a chair set against the wall, not at the table, and as he lets her go he says something into her ear, much too quietly for me to hear. As he walks away she says, suddenly serious, "I doubt it." He comes to stand over the banquet table, clumsy movements, overconfident attitude. I'm enjoying watching him, and the sense of anticipation.