Outside, the shrill soprano of a woman is heard, taking up a hymn. At the sound Michaelis goes to the window. He stands rigid, listening to the hymn to the end of the verse, when other voices join in the chorus. The fog has partially cleared.
Michaelis.
Turning slowly to Rhoda.
Who are they?
Rhoda.
Sick people.
Michaelis.
How did they find out I was here?
Rhoda.
It was known you were somewhere near.—They have been gathering for days.—They saw the boy, just now, in the village.