Pfeifer too?

VOICES

Let's get hold o' Pfeifer! Look for Pfeifer!

BAUMERT

Yes, yes! Pfeifer! Tell him there's a weaver here for him to starve.

[_Laughter._

JAEGER

If we can't lay hands on that brute Dreissiger himself ... we'll make him poor!

BAUMERT

As poor as a church mouse ... we'll see to that!

[_All, bent on the work of destruction, rush towards the drawing-room door._

BECKER

[_Who is leading, turns round and stops the others._] Halt! Listen to me!

This is nothing but a beginnin'. When we're done here, we'll go straight to Bielau, to Dittrich's, where the steam power-looms is. The whole mischief's done by them factories.

OLD ANSORGE

[_Enters from hall. Takes a few steps, then stops and looks round, scarcely believing his eyes; shakes his head, taps his forehead._] Who am I? Weaver Anton Ansorge. Has he gone mad, Old Ansorge? My head's goin'

round like a humming-top, sure enough. What's he doin' here. He'll do whatever he's a mind to. Where is Ansorge? [_He taps his forehead repeatedly._] Something's wrong! I'm not answerable! I'm off my head! Off with you, off with you, rioters that you are! Heads off, legs off, hands off! If you takes my house, I takes your house. Forward, forward!

[_Goes yelling into the drawing-room, followed by a yelling, laughing mob._

END OF THE FOURTH ACT

FIFTH ACT

_Langen-Bielau,--OLD WEAVER HILSE'S workroom. On the left a small window, in front of which stands the loom. On the right a bed, with a table pushed close to it. Stove, with stove-bench, in the right-hand corner. Family worship is going on. HILSE, his old, blind, and almost deaf wife, his son GOTTLIEB, and LUISE, GOTTLIEB'S wife, are sitting at the table, on the bed and wooden stools. A winding-wheel and bobbins on the floor between table and loom. Old spinning, weaving, and winding implements are disposed of on the smoky rafters; hanks of yarn are hanging down. There is much useless lumber in the low narrow room. The door, which is in the back wall, and leads into the big outer pa.s.sage, or entry-room of the house, stands open. Through another open door on the opposite side of the pa.s.sage, a second, in most respects similar weaver's room is seen. The large pa.s.sage, or entry-room of the house, is paved with stone, has damaged plaster, and a tumble-down wooden stair-case leading to the attics; a washing-tub on a stool is partly visible; linen of the most miserable description and poor household utensils lie about untidily. The light falls from the left into all three apartments._

_OLD HILSE is a bearded man of strong build, but bent and wasted with age, toil, sickness, and hardship. He is an old soldier, and has lost an arm. His nose is sharp, his complexion ashen-grey, and he shakes; he is nothing but skin and bone, and has the deep-set, sore weaver's eyes._

OLD HILSE

[_Stands up, as do his son and daughter-in-law; prays._] O Lord, we know not how to be thankful enough to Thee, for that Thou hast spared us this night again in Thy goodness ... an' hast had pity on us ... an' hast suffered us to take no harm. Thou art the All-merciful, an' we are poor, sinful children of men--that bad that we are not worthy to be trampled under Thy feet. Yet Thou art our loving Father, an' Thou will look upon us an' accept us for the sake of Thy dear Son, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. "Jesus' blood and righteousness, Our covering is and glorious dress." An' if we're sometimes too sore cast down under Thy chastening--when the fire of Thy purification burns too ragin' hot--oh, lay it not to our charge; forgive us our sin. Give us patience, heavenly Father, that after all these sufferin's we may be made partakers of Thy eternal blessedness. Amen.

MOTHER HILSE

[_Who has been bending forward, trying hard to hear._] What a beautiful prayer you do say, father!

[_LUISE goes off to the washtub, GOTTLIEB to the room on the other side of the pa.s.sage._

OLD HILSE

Where's the little la.s.s?

LUISE

She's gone to Peterswaldau, to Dreissiger's. She finished all she had to wind last night.

OLD HILSE

[_Speaking very loud._] You'd like the wheel now, mother, eh?

MOTHER HILSE

Yes, father, I'm quite ready.

OLD HILSE

[_Setting it down before her._] I wish I could do the work for you.

MOTHER HILSE

An' what would be the good o' that, father? There would I be, sittin' not knowin' what to do.

OLD HILSE

I'll give your fingers a wipe, then, so that they'll not grease the yarn.

[_He wipes her hands with a rag._

LUISE

[_At her tub._] If there's grease on her hands, it's not from what she's eaten.

OLD HILSE

If we've no b.u.t.ter, we can eat dry bread--when we've no bread, we can eat potatoes--when there's no potatoes left, we can eat bran.

LUISE

[_Saucily._] An' when that's all eaten, we'll do as the Wenglers did--we'll find out where the skinner's buried some stinking old horse, an' we'll dig it up an' live for a week or two on rotten carrion--how nice that'll be!