“The fog is rising!” says one, looking out of the window. “Do you hear what I said about the fog?”
“It’s time to go to sleep. I say, it’s time to go to sleep!”
Desfoso comes forward and speaks cautiously:
“That isn’t quite so, abbot. It seems you didn’t say exactly what you ought to say, abbot. They seem to think differently. I don’t say anything for myself—I am simply talking about them. What do you say, Thomas?”
THOMAS—We ought to go to sleep, I say. Isn’t it true that it is time to go to sleep?
MARIET (softly)—Sit down, Gart. You are tired to-night. You don’t answer?
An old fisherman says:
“There used to be a custom in our land, I heard, that a murderer was to pay a fine for the man he killed. Have you heard about it, Desfoso?”
Another voice is heard:
“Philipp is dead. Philipp is dead already, do you hear, neighbour? Who is going to support his mother?”