My heart contracts,——madness!——St. Agnes also died for her reserve and was not half as naked as thou!——Another kiss upon thy blooming body——upon thy childish swelling breast—upon thy sweetly rounded—thy cruel knees——
“It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul, Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars! It is the cause!”——
(The picture falls into the depths, he shuts the lid.)
FOURTH SCENE.
A haymow. Melchior lies on his back in the fresh hay. Wendla comes up the ladder.
Wendla.
Here's where you've hid yourself?——They're all hunting for you. The wagon is outside again. You must help. There's a storm coming up.
Melchior.
Go away from me! Go away from me!
Wendla.