I may come to the front, too.
[They embrace tenderly.]
Mother: [Strong and quiet, unable to speak, holds his head against her breast for a moment.]
Fight well, my son.
Arno:
Yes, Mother.
[He tears himself away. The silent suffering of the mother is pitiful. Her hands are crossed on her breast, her lips are seen to move in prayer. It is Hedwig who takes her in her arms and comforts her.]
Hedwig:
And this is war—to tear our hearts out like this! Make mother some tea, Amelia, can't you?
[Amelia prepares the cup of tea for her mother.]