AUGUSTE
Aw, don' tell me!
LIESE
Go in there'n ask the coachman's wife. She's gittin' her a drop o' milk.
BEIPST
[Hangs up his scythe on the wall.] Ye'd better not let that Spiller creature get wind o' it.
AUGUSTE
Oh, Lord, no! Who'd think o' it!
LIESE
A poor woman like that with eight—