Kneirtje.
[In the same voice as before.] Before he went I hung his father’s rings in his ears. Like—like a lamb to the slaughter——
Bos.
Come——
Kneirtje.
[Panting.] And my oldest boy that I didn’t bid good bye——“If you’re too late”—these were his words—“I’ll never look at you again.”—“Never look at you again!”
Bos.
[Strongly moved.] Stop! in God’s name, stop!——
Kneirtje.
Twelve years ago—when the Clementine—I sat here as I am now. [Sobs with her face between her trembling old hands.]