MRS. KITTELHAUS
Something dreadful has happened to him. I know it. You needn't try to keep it from me.
DREISSIGER
You mustn't take it to heart—they'll be sorry for it yet. I know exactly whose fault it was. Such an unspeakable, shameful outrage will not go unpunished. A community laying hands on its own pastor and maltreating him—abominable! Mad dogs they are—raging brutes—and they'll be treated as such. [To his wife who still stands petrified.] Go, Rosa, go quickly! [Heavy blows at the lower door are heard.] Don't you hear? They've gone stark mad! [The clatter of window-panes being smashed on the ground-floor is heard.] They've gone crazy. There's nothing for it but to get away as fast as we can.
[Cries of "Pfeifer, come out!"—"We want Pfeifer!"—"Pfeifer, come out!" are heard.
MRS. DREISSIGER
Pfeifer, Pfeifer, they want Pfeifer!
PFEIFER
[Dashes in.] Mr. Dreissiger, there are people at the back gate already, and the house door won't hold much longer. The smith's battering at it like a maniac with a stable pail.
[The cry sounds louder and clearer: "Pfeifer! Pfeifer! Pfeifer! come out!" MRS. DREISSIGER rushes off as if pursued. MRS. KITTELHAUS follows. PFEIFER listens, and changes colour as he hears what the cry is. A perfect panic of fear seizes him; he weeps, entreats, whimpers, writhes, all at the same moment. He overwhelms DREISSIGER with childish caresses, strokes his cheeks and arms, kisses his hands, and at last, like a drowning man, throws his arms round him and prevents him moving.