We have pity on them, my child, but no one has pity on us….
MARY.
Tell them to-morrow, grandfather; tell them when it is light…. They will not be so sorrowful….
THE OLD MAN.
Perhaps you are right, my child…. It would be better to leave all this in the night. And the light is sweet to sorrow…. But what would they say to us to-morrow? Misfortune renders jealous; they whom it strikes, wish to be told before strangers; they do not like to have it left in the hands of those they do not know…. We should look as if we had stolen something….
THE STRANGER.
There is no more time, besides; I hear the murmur of prayers already….
MARY.
There they are…. They are passing behind the hedges….
Enter MARTHA.