The singing of a hymn in unison is heard from the camp. KERSTI kneels beside the bench and tries to pray, bid merely wrings her hands in despair. At last she kisses the shoes of the sleeping child, struggles to her feet, and goes to window.
MATS. There is something nice about children, isn't there?
KERSTI. Yes—yes!
MATS. Are you alone?
KERSTI. Yes, they left! Hating me—all of them!
MATS. To-morrow is our wedding-day!
KERSTI. Yes—think of it!
MATS. Yes, think of it—to-morrow is our wedding-day!
KERSTI. And I shall be living in the mill!
MATS. In the mill with me!