Amelia:
Arno is left.
Mother:
Ah, but they'll be calling him next. It is his birthday to-day, too, poor lad. He's on the jump to be off. I see him gone, too. God knows I may never see one of them again. I sit here in the long evenings and think how death may take my boys,—even this minute they may be breathing their last,—and then I knit this baby sock and think of the precious little life that's coming. It's my one comfort, Amelia. Nothing must happen now.
Amelia: [With a touch of impatience.]
What's the matter with Hedwig?
Mother:
I don't know what it is. She acts as if she didn't want to bring her child into the world. She talks wild. I tell you I must have that child, Amelia! I cannot live else. Hedwig frightens me. The other night I found her sitting on the edge of her bed staring,—when she should have been asleep,—as if she saw visions, and whispering, "I will send a message to the emperor." What message? I had to shake her out of it. She refuses to make a thing for her baby. Says, "Wait till I see what they do to Franz." It's unnatural.
Amelia:
I can't understand her. I never could. I always thought it was because she was a factory-town girl.