BARONESS. It is true that the minister hates both of us, and it may happen as you say. Why don't you speak to him?
BARON. Of what? Making up?
BARONESS. Of anything you please, if it only be not too late! Oh, if it should be too late!—What can that man Alexandersson want that makes him prowl about us two all the time? I am afraid of that man!
BARON. Alexandersson is a nice fellow.
BARONESS. Yes, he is nice to you, but not to me—I have observed those glances before—Go and see the Pastor now; but take my hand first—I am scared!
BARON. Of what, dear, of what?
BARONESS. I don't know—Everything, everybody!
BARON. But not of me?
BARONESS. No, not now! It is as if our clothes had been caught in the mill wheels, and we had been dragged into the machinery. What have we been doing? What have we been doing in our anger? How they will enjoy themselves, all these who are now seeing the Baron and the Baroness stripped naked and flogging each other—Oh, I feel as if I were standing here without a rag to cover me.
[She buttons her coat.