Mine, mine!
DAVID.
Takes the child and presses it to his breast, covering it with his grey beard.
Hush!... It's my beard! Oh, what a terrible beard! But never fear, my little one, press to me more closely and laugh—you are the wisest of all. Sarah, my wife, come over here.
SARAH.
Weeping.
I am here.
DAVID.
Let us step aside for a while. Woman, I will return the child to you, I will only hold it for a while.... Come, Sarah, let us step aside. Before you I am not ashamed to cry, be they tears of sorrow or tears of joy.
They step aside and cry softly. Only their stooping backs are seen, and David's red handkerchief with which he wipes his eyes, and the tear-stained face of the child.