Wendla.
O Mother, why didn't you tell me everything!
Frau Bergmann.
Child, child, let us not make each other's hearts any heavier! Take hold of yourself! Don't make me desperate, child. To tell that to a fourteen-year-old girl! See, I expected that about as much as I did the sun going out. I haven't acted any differently towards you than my dear, good mother did toward me.——Oh, let us trust in the dear God, Wendla; let us hope for compassion, and have compassion toward ourselves! See, nothing has happened yet, child. And if we are not cowardly now, God won't forsake us.——Be cheerful, Wendla, be cheerful!——One sits so at the window with one's hands in one's lap, while everything changes to good, and then one realizes that one almost wanted to break one's heart——Wa——why are you shivering?
Wendla.
Somebody knocked.
Frau Bergmann.
I didn't hear anything, dear heart. (Goes and opens the door.)
Wendla.
But I heard it very plainly——Who is outside?