[Friebe comes shaking with sobs out of the next room and disappears into the kitchen.]
Augusta (follows Friebe in; stopping in front of William, she moans at him).
Who—is to blame now, who—who?
[She sinks with head and arms on a table, a muffled moaning is wrung from her. Mrs Scholz is still heard crying loudly in next room.
William (breaking out).
Augusta!
Ida (her hands on William’s breast, in trembling tones:)
William—I think—your father—is dead.
[William is again near an outbreak, but Ida calms him; he controls his emotion, possesses himself of Ida’s hand, which he grips in his own, and hand in hand they go with firm and quiet steps out into the next room.]