Throughout the action on stage there are Someone in gray and the second nameless character standing silently in the far corner. In the prologue, Someone in gray addresses the public with an explanation of what will be presented to her. This is the life of Man, everything from birth to the hour of death, like a candle, which he, the witness of life, will hold in his hand. In front of him and the audience, Man will go through all stages of being, from the bottom to the top - and from the top to the bottom. Limited by sight, Man will never see the next step; limited by hearing, Man will not hear the voice of fate; limited by knowledge, does not guess what the next minute carries to him. Happy young man. Proud husband and father. Weak old man. Candle eaten by fire. A string of paintings, where in different guises - the same Man.

... Listening to the cries of women in labor, giggling old women are talking on the stage. How lonely a man screams, one of the old women remarks: everyone speaks - and they cannot be heard, but one screams - and it seems as if all the others are silently listening. And how strange a man screams, the second old woman grins: when it hurts you yourself, you don’t notice how strange your scream is. And how funny the children are! How helpless! How hard they are born - animals give birth easier ... And they die easier ... And they live easier ...

The old woman is many, but they seem to chant a monologue.

Someone in gray interrupts their speech, announcing: Man was born. Man’s father goes through the stage with the doctor, confessing how he was tormented during this hours of the appearance of his son, how he pitied his wife, how he hates the baby who brought her suffering, how he executes himself for her torment ... And how grateful he is to God who heard his prayer, fulfilled his dream of a son!

On the stage are relatives. Their remarks are like a continuation of muttering old women. They most seriously discuss the problems of choosing a name for a Man, his feeding and upbringing, his health, and then they imperceptibly pass on to questions much more prosaic: is it possible to smoke here and the better to remove greasy spots from a dress.

... Man has grown. He has a beloved wife and a beloved profession (he is an architect), but he has no money. The neighbors gossip on the stage about how strange it is: these two are young and beautiful, healthy and happy, it's nice to look at them, but they are unbearably sorry: they are always hungry. Why so? For what and in the name of what?

The man and his wife embarrassedly tell each other about the envy of the well-fed and wealthy people they meet on the street.

“Elegant ladies pass me by,” says the Wife of Man, “I look at their hats, I hear the rustling of their silk skirts and I'm not happy about it, but I say to myself:“ I don’t have such a hat! I don’t have such a silk skirt! ” “And when I walk along the street and see something that does not belong to us,” Man replies to her, “I feel how my fangs are growing. If someone inadvertently pushes me in the crowd, I will bare my fangs. ”

A man swears to his wife: they get out of poverty.

“Imagine our house is a magnificent palace! Imagine that you are the queen of the ball! Imagine that an amazing orchestra is playing - for us and our guests! ”

And the Wife of Man imagines all this with ease.

... And then it came true! He is rich, he has no end to customers, his wife bathes in luxury. In their palace - a wonderful ball, a magical orchestra plays - either humanoid musical instruments, or people similar to instruments. Couples of young people spin, delightedly talking: what an honor it is for them to be at the ball at the Man.

A Man enters - he is noticeably aged. He paid for wealth over the years of his life. Aged and his wife. With them in a ceremonial procession through the suite of shining rooms go numerous friends with white roses in their buttonholes and, no less than, enemies of Man - with yellow roses. Young couples, having interrupted the dance, follow everyone to a fabulous feast.

... He again became impoverished. The fashion for his creations has passed. Friends and enemies helped him squander his accumulated fortune. Now only rats run around the palace, there have not been guests here for a long time. The house is dilapidated, nobody buys it. The son of Man is dying. The man and his wife kneel and pray with prayer to the one who motionlessly stood in the far corner: she is with a humble motherly plea, he is demanding justice. This is not a filial complaint, but a conversation between a man and a man, father with Father, old man with old man.

“Do obedient flatterers need to be loved more than brave and proud people?” - asks the man. And he does not hear a word in response. The Son of Man is dying - so his prayer has not been heard! A man pronounces curses on him who watches him from the corner of the stage.

“I curse everything that is given by Thee! I curse the day I was born and the day I die! I curse myself - eyes, hearing, tongue, heart - and all this I throw into Your cruel face! And with my curse I conquer you! .. ”

... Drunkards and old women in a tavern are surprised: there is a Man sitting at a table, drinking a little, and sitting a lot! What would that mean? The drunken delirium is interspersed with remarks born, it seems, in the fading consciousness of Man, - echoes of the past, an echo of his whole life.

There are musicians - both those and not those who once played at balls in the palace of Man. It is difficult to understand whether they are it or not, how difficult it is to recall a past life and all that a person has lost - a son, wife, friends, home, wealth, fame, life itself ...

The old women are spinning around the table, at which Man sits with his head bowed. Their dance mimics the wonderful dance of young ladies at the old man’s ball.

In the face of death, he rises to his full height, throws back his beautiful gray head, and shouts sharply, loudly, desperately - inquiring whether the sky, or drunkards, or spectators, or Someone in gray:

“Where is my squire? Where is my sword? Where is my shield? ”

Someone in gray looks at the cinder of the candle - it is about the last time it blinks and goes out. “I am disarmed!” - Man exclaims, and darkness surrounds him.