Nils. And that's why you keep counting like that?
Windrank. No, it's only because I find it so hard to hold my tongue. Now, for heaven's sake, keep quiet! Please go away, or you'll get me into trouble!—71, 72, 73.
Nils. Who's inside?
Windrank. 74, 75.
Nils. Is it a funeral?
Windrank. 76, 77.—Go to hell, won't you!
Nils. Just another tiny drop, and the counting will be easier.
Windrank. Just a little one—I will! (He drinks. Singing is heard outside.)
Nils. Here come the nuns of St. Clara to celebrate the memory of their saint for the last time.
Windrank. That's fine mummery in days like these when everybody is getting educated.