MOTHER BAUMERT
[Half distracted by a multitude of gloomy forebodings.] What … what … what's to become of us if he don't come home? if he drinks the money, an' don't bring us nothin' at all? There's not so much as a handful o' salt in the house—not a bite o' bread, nor a bit o' wood for the fire.
BERTHA
Wait a bit, mother! It's moonlight just now. We'll take August with us and go into the wood and get some sticks.
MOTHER BAUMERT
Yes, an' be caught by the forester.
ANSORGE, an old weaver of gigantic stature, who has to bend down to get into the room, puts his head and shoulders in at the door. Long, unkempt hair and beard.
ANSORGE
What's wanted?