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Page 26
LADY. That's because you've despised it.
STRANGER. As I've despised everything. ...
LADY. But not everything's despicable. Some things are good.
STRANGER. I've never seen them.
LADY. Then follow me and you will.
STRANGER. I'll follow you. (He hesitates when passing the smithy.)
LADY (who has gone on ahead). Are you frightened of fire?
STRANGER. No, but ... (The horn is heard in the distance. He
hurries past the smithy after the LADY.)
SCENE VII
IN A KITCHEN
[A large kitchen with whitewashed walls. Three windows in the
corner, right, so arranged that two are at the back and one in the
right wall. The windows are small and deeply recessed; in the
recesses there are flower pots. The ceiling is beamed and black
with soot. In the left corner a large range with utensils of
copper, iron and tin, and wooden vessels. In the corner, right, a
crucifix with a lamp. Beneath it a four-cornered table with
benches. Bunches of mistletoe on the walls. A door at the back. The
Poorhouse can be seen outside, and through the window at the back
the church. Near the fire bedding for dogs and a table with food
for the poor.]
[The OLD MAN is sitting at the table beneath the crucifix, with his
hands clasped and a game bag before him. He is a strongly-built man
of over eighty with white hair and along beard, dressed as a
forester. The MOTHER is kneeling on the floor; she is grey-haired
and nearly fifty; her dress is of black-and-white material. The
voices of men, women and children can be clearly heard singing the
last verse of the Angels' Greeting in chorus. 'Holy Mary, Mother of
God, pray for us poor sinners, now and in the hour of death.
Amen.']
OLD MAN and MOTHER. Amen!
MOTHER. Now I'll tell you, Father. They saw two vagabonds by the
river. Their clothing was torn and dirty, for they'd been in the
water. And when it came to paying the ferryman, they'd no money.
Now they're drying their clothes in the ferryman's hut.
OLD MAN. Let them stay there.
MOTHER. Don't forbid a beggar your house. He might be an angel.
OLD MAN. True. Let them come in.
MOTHER. I'll put food for them on the table for the poor. Do you
mind that?
OLD MAN. No.
MOTHER. Shall I give them cider?
OLD MAN. Yes. And you can light the fire; they'll be cold.
MOTHER. There's hardly time. But I will, if you wish it, Father.
OLD MAN (looking out of the window). I think you'd better.
MOTHER. What are you looking at?
OLD MAN. The river; it's rising. And I'm asking myself, as I've
done for seventy years--when I shall reach the sea.
MOTHER. You're sad to-night, Father.
OLD MAN. ... et introibo ad altare Dei: ad Deum qui laetificat
juventutem meam. Yes. I do feel sad. ... Deus, Deus meus: quare
tristis es anima mea, et quare conturbas me.
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