It is about four o'clock in the morning. The windows in the inn are still lit. Through the gateway comes in the twilight of a pallid dawn which, in the course of the action, develops into a ruddy glow, and this, in its turn, gradually melts into bright daylight. Under the gateway, on the ground, sits BEIPST and sharpens his scythe. As the curtain rises, little more is visible than his dark outline which is defined against the morning sky, but one hears the monotonous, uninterrupted and regular beat of the scythe hammer on the anvil. For some minutes this is the only sound audible. Then follows the solemn silence of the morning, broken by the cries of roysterers who are leaving the inn. The inn-door is slammed with a crash. The lights in the windows go out. A distant barking of dogs is heard and a loud, confused crowing of cocks. On the path from the inn to the house a dark figure becomes visible which reels in zigzag lines toward the farmyard. It is FARMER KRAUSE, who, as always, has been the last to leave the inn.
FARMER KRAUSE
[Has reeled against the fence, clings to it for support with both hands, and roars with a somewhat nasal, drunken voice back at the inn.] The garden'sh mine … the inn'sh mi-ine … ash of a' inn-keeper! Hi-hee! [After mumbling and growling unintelligibly he frees himself from the fence and staggers into the yard, where, luckily, he gets hold of the handles of a plough.] The farm'sh mi'ine. [He drivels, half singing.] Drink … o … lil' brother, drink … o … lil' brother … brandy'sh good t' give courash. Hi-hee—[roaring aloud]—ain' I a han'some man … Ain' I got a han'some wife?… Ain' I got a couple o' han'some gals?
HELEN
[Comes swiftly from the house. It is plain that she has only slipped on such garments as, in her hurry, she could find.] Papa!… dear papa!! Do come in! [She supports him by one arm, tries to lead him and draw him toward the house.] Oh, do come … do please come … quick … quick … Come, oh, do, do come!
FARMER KRAUSE
[Has straightened himself up and tries to stand erect. Fumbling with both hands he succeeds, with great pains, in extracting from his breeches-pocket a purse bursting with coins. As the morning brightens, it is possible to see the shabby garb of KRAUSE, which is in no respects better than that of the commonest field labourer. He is about fifty years old. His head is bare, his thin, grey hair is uncombed and matted. His dirty shirt is open down to his waist. His leathern breeches, tied at the ankles, were once yellow but are now shiny with dirt. They are held up by a single embroidered suspender. On his naked feet he wears a pair of embroidered bedroom slippers, the embroidery on which seems to be quite new. He wears neither coat nor waist-coat and his shirtsleeves are unbuttoned. After he has finally succeeded in extracting the purse, he holds it in his right hand and brings it down repeatedly on the palm of his left so that the coins ring and clatter, At the same time he fixes a lascivious look on his daughter.] Hi-hee! The money'sh mi-ine! Hey? How'd y' like couple o' crownsh?
HELEN
Oh, merciful God! [She makes repeated efforts to drag him with her. At one of these efforts he embraces her with the clumsiness of a gorilla and makes several indecent gestures. HELEN utters suppressed cries for help.] Let go! This minute! Let go-o!! Oh, please, papa, Oh-o!! [She weeps, then suddenly cries out in an extremity of fear, loathing and rage:] Beast! Swine!
[She pushes him from her and KRAUSE falls to his full length on the ground. BEIPST comes limping up from his seat under the gateway. He and HELEN set about lifting KRAUSE.