THE OLD MAN.
Perhaps you are right, my child…. It would be better to leave all this in the night. And the light is sweet to sorrow…. But what would they say to us to-morrow? Misfortune renders jealous; they whom it strikes, wish to be told before strangers; they do not like to have it left in the hands of those they do not know…. We should look as if we had stolen something….
THE STRANGER.
There is no more time, besides; I hear the murmur of prayers already….
MARY.
There they are…. They are passing behind the hedges….
Enter MARTHA.
MARTHA.
Here I am. I have brought them this far. I have told them to wait on the road. [Cries of children heard.] Ah! the children are crying again…. I forbade their coming…. But they wanted to see too, and the mothers would not obey…. I will go tell them…. No; they are silent.—Is everything ready?—I have brought the little ring that was found on her…. I have some fruit, too, for the child…. I laid her out myself on the litter. She looks as if she were asleep…. I had a good deal of trouble; her hair would not obey…. I had some marguerites plucked…. It is sad, there were no other flowers…. What are you doing here? Why are you not by them?… [She looks at the windows.] They do not weep?… They … you have not told them?