Helena. Tell me— (She rushes up to him.)
Domin. Yes, when I come back. Don’t go out of the house, dear. (Exits L.2.)
Helena. He won’t tell me. (Nana brings in a water carafe from L.1.) Nana, find me the latest newspapers. Quickly. Look in Mr. Domin’s bedroom.
Nana. All right. (Crosses R.) He leaves them all over the place. That’s how they get crumpled up. (Continues muttering. Exits R.)
Helena. (Looking through binoculars at the harbor) That’s a warship. U-l-t-i—Ultimus. They’re loading.
Nana. (Enters R. with newspapers) Here they are. See how they’re crumpled up.
Helena. (Crosses down) They’re old ones. A week old. (Drops papers. Both at front of couch. Nana sits R. of table L.C. Puts on spectacles. Reads the newspapers.) Something’s happening, Nana.
Nana. Very likely. It always does. (Spelling out the words) “W-a-r in B-a-l-k-a-n-s.” Is that far off?
Helena. Oh, don’t read it. It’s always the same. Always wars! (Sits on couch.)
Nana. What else do you expect? Why do you keep selling thousands and thousands of these heathens as soldiers?