Oh, how many they seem!… They had already run up from the suburbs of the city when I came…. They are going a long way around….
THE OLD MAN.
They will come in spite of all; I see them too…. They are on the march across the meadow lands…. They seem so small you hardly make them out among the grasses…. They look like children playing in the moonlight; and if the girls should see them, they would not understand…. In vain they turn their backs; those yonder draw near with every step they take, and the sorrow has been growing these two hours already. They cannot hinder it from growing; and they that bear it there no longer can arrest it…. It is their master too, and they must serve it…. It has its end and follows its own road…. It is unwearying and has but one idea…. Needs must they lend their strength. They are sad, but they come…. They have pity, but they must go forward….
MARY.
The elder smiles no longer, grandfather….
THE STRANGER.
They leave the windows….
MARY.
They kiss their mother….