LUKA. Wait. Let me go. I want a look at Anna . . . she was coughing so terribly . . . [Goes to Anna’s bed, pulls the curtains, looks, touches her. Pepel thoughtfully and distraught, follows him with his eyes] Merciful Jesus Christ! Take into Thy keeping the soul of this woman Anna, new-comer amongst the blessed!
PEPEL [softly] Is she dead?
[Without approaching, he stretches himself and looks at the bed.]
LUKA [gently] Her sufferings are over! Where’s her husband?
PEPEL. In the saloon, most likely . . .
LUKA. Well—he’ll have to be told . . .
PEPEL [shuddering] I don’t like corpses!
LUKA [going to door] Why should you like them? It’s the living who demand our love—the living . . .
PEPEL. I’m coming with you . . .
LUKA. Are you afraid?