MARTHA.
Here I am. I have brought them this far. I have told them to wait on the road. [Cries of children heard.] Ah! the children are crying again…. I forbade their coming…. But they wanted to see too, and the mothers would not obey…. I will go tell them…. No; they are silent.—Is everything ready?—I have brought the little ring that was found on her…. I have some fruit, too, for the child…. I laid her out myself on the litter. She looks as if she were asleep…. I had a good deal of trouble; her hair would not obey…. I had some marguerites plucked…. It is sad, there were no other flowers…. What are you doing here? Why are you not by them?… [She looks at the windows.] They do not weep?… They … you have not told them?
THE OLD MAN.
Martha, Martha, there is too much life in your soul; you cannot understand….
MARTHA.
Why should I not understand?… [After a silence and in a tone of very grave reproach.] You cannot have done that, grandfather….
THE OLD MAN.
Martha, you do not know….
MARTHA.
I will tell them.