It's as sure as I'm a livin' man. Every child in the place'll soon tell you the same story.
OLD HILSE
Either your wits are a-wool-gatherin' or mine are.
HORNIG
Not mine. What I'm tellin' you's as true as the Bible. I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't stood there an' seen it with my own eyes—as I see you now, Gottlieb. They've wrecked his house from the cellar to the roof. The good china came flyin' out at the garret windows, rattlin' down the roof. God only knows how many pieces of fustian are lying soakin' in the river! The water can't get away for them—it's running over the banks, the colour of washin'-blue with all the indigo they've poured out at the windows. Clouds of sky-blue dust was flyin' along. Oh, it's a terrible destruction they've worked! And it's not only the house … it's the dye-works too … an' the stores! They've broken the stair rails, they've torn up the fine flooring—smashed the lookin'-glasses—cut an' hacked an' torn an' smashed the sofas an' the chairs.—It's awful—it's worse than war.
OLD HILSE
An' you would have me believe that my fellow weavers did all that?
[He shakes his head incredulously.
[Other tenants of the house have collected at the door and are listening eagerly.