God grant them the best of good fortune, for they are such a kindly couple!
Yes, God grant them always good health and happiness and mutual love: and may He see to it that never a black cat step between them, to bring them evil luck!
And may the poor young man find work to do; for it goes hard with a man when he cannot find work to earn his daily bread!
[Exeunt all.
[Enter the Man's Wife, her hair decked with wild flowers, and her whole appearance graceful, pretty, and innocent. At the same time, her face is expressive of deep dejection, and as she sits down to the table she turns towards the audience, and says in a sorrowful voice:]
I have just returned from the town, where I have been looking for, I have been looking for—oh, I hardly know what I have been looking for. We are so poor that we have nothing in all the world. Indeed, we find it a struggle even to live. We need money, money; yet I know not where to get it. If I were to go out into the streets and beg I feel sure that no one would give me anything. No, every one would refuse me. And, moreover, I have not the courage to do it. I have tried hard to get work for my husband, but it is not to be got. Every one to whom I apply says that there is too little work to do, and too many people to do it. I have even roamed the town, and searched the roadways, in the hope that some rich lady or gentleman might have dropped a purse or jewellery; but either no one had done so, or else some mortal, luckier than I, had found the treasure first. Oh, I am so unhappy! Soon my husband will be coming home—tired out with his long search for work to do; yet once more he will find that I have nothing for him but my poor kisses! And kisses will not feed a starving man. Oh, I am so unhappy that I could weep for ever! To me it is nothing to have to go hungry—indeed, I scarcely feel it; but he is different, for he has a larger frame to feed, and requires more food. When he has had to go hungry a little while he begins to look so white and ill, so thin and worried! He takes to scolding me, and then gives me a kiss, and begs me not to mind what he has said. But I never mind; I love him too much for that. Oh, I am so unhappy! He is one of the cleverest architects in all the world. Indeed, I believe he is a veritable genius. Left, when quite an infant, to face the world alone, he was adopted by some relations. But, alas! his quick and independent temper led him to say things which displeased them, and caused them to declare that he was ungrateful; with the result that, in the end, they turned him from their doors again. Yet still he continued his studies—maintaining himself the while by giving lessons, and often going hungry. Yes, he came well to know what hunger meant! Yet now, though he has completed his course of studies, and become a fully qualified architect, and can do the most beautiful designs imaginable, no one will accept them. Nay, some stupid people even laugh at them! To succeed in life one needs two things—influence and a lucky star: and he has neither. So he goes wandering about, ever looking for a chance—any sort of a chance—to find work to do. It may even be that, like myself, he searches the roadways for lost purses, for he is but a boy in mind as well as in years. Of course, some day we shall succeed: but the question is, When will that be? Meanwhile life is very hard for us; for although, when we married, we had a little money, it soon disappeared, what with too many visits to the theatre and too much eating of bonbons. He is still sanguine of success, but I—well, sometimes I seem to lose all hope, and give way to tears when quite alone. Even now my heart is aching to think that here is he coming home—only to find nothing for him but my poor kisses!
[She rises from her chair, and goes down upon her knees.]
O Lord God, be unto us a kind and pitying Father. Thou hast so much to give of what we need—of bread, of work, of money. Thy earth is so rich, it brings forth so much fruit and corn in its fields—it covers its meadows with so many flowers, it yields such weight of gold, such countless shining gems from the depths of its dark bowels! Thy sun's rays have so much warmth in them; in the shining of Thy stars there is so much pensive and peaceful joy! Give us, then, but a little of that bounty—but a little, but so much as Thou bestowest upon Thy birds: a little bread to stay the hunger of my brave, beloved husband, a little warmth to fend him from the cold, a little work to do, that he may raise his handsome head once more. And, I beseech Thee, be not angry with him that he should scold me so often, and that at other times he should laugh and bid me dance: for he is as yet but young, and cannot always be grave and sober.
[She rises to her feet again.]
There! Now that I have said a prayer I feel better—I begin to hope once more. Surely God must give occasionally when He is entreated so often? Now I will go out again and search the roadways, in the hope that some one may have dropped a purse or some jewellery.