Jo.
What good is a child without a husband!
Kneirtje.
How dare you say that?
Jo.
[Beating her head on the table.] The wind! It drives me mad, mad!
Kneirtje.
[Opens the prayerbook, touches Jo’s arm. Jo looks up, sobbing passionately, sees the prayerbook, shakes her head fiercely. Again wailing, drops to the floor, which she beats with her hands. Kneirtje’s trembling voice sounds.] Oh Merciful God! I trust! With a firm faith, I trust. [The wind races with wild lashings about the house.]
CURTAIN.