[Her search has led her up the stair; her countenance shows anxiety, her voice is full of tenderness] Here at last I find you, my son.
Jeremiah
[Springing to his feet in fear and wrath] Begone! Alas the voices are stilled; the way is lost, never shall I find it again.
The Mother
Woe is me, why do you stand here so thinly clad in the chill night air? Come down, my son. The morning mist brings fever.
Jeremiah
[Wildly] Why do you follow me, why do you pester me? Unending chase. You follow me without pause, waking or sleeping.
The Mother
Jeremiah, what do you mean? I was sleeping below, and then I seemed to hear people talking on the roof.
Jeremiah