Here, here is Rosa; look, sir! My God, how ugly she is. David cries every time he sees her.
ROSA.
Offended, straightens herself.
There are uglier women than I am.
SARAH.
Persuasively.
What are you saying, Rosa? There is no uglier girl than you in the whole world. (Whispers entreatingly.) Hide your beauty, Rosa. A robber has come, Rosa,—hide your beauty! At night I will wash your face myself, I will comb your braids myself, and you will be as beautiful as a heavenly angel, and we will all pray to you. A robber has come, Rosa. (Aloud.) Did they throw stones at you again?
ROSA.
Hoarsely.
Yes, they did.