The ferryman swore his boat drew less water when
'he' got in. Superstition, but. ...
MOTHER. But what?
OLD MAN. It was only a magpie that flew in at her window, though it
was closed. An illusion, perhaps.
MOTHER. Perhaps. But why does one often see such things at the
right time?
OLD MAN. This man's presence is intolerable. When he looks at me I
can't breathe.
MOTHER. We must try to get rid of him. I'm certain he won't care to
stay for long.
OLD MAN. No. He won't grow old here. (Pause.) Listen, I got a
letter to-night warning me about him. Among other things he's
wanted by the courts.
MOTHER. The courts?
OLD MAN. Yes. Money matters. But, remember, the laws of hospitality
protect beggars and enemies. Let him stay a few days, till he's got
over this fearful journey. You can see how Providence has laid
hands on him, how his soul is being ground in the mill ready for
the sieve. ...
MOTHER. I've felt a call to be a tool in the hands of Providence.
OLD MAN. Don't confuse it with your wish for vengeance.
MOTHER. I'll try not to, if I can.
OLD MAN. Well, good-night.
MOTHER. Do you think Ingeborg has read his last book?
OLD MAN. It's unlikely. If she had she'd never have married a man
who held such views.
MOTHER. No, she's not read it. But now she must.
SCENE VIII
THE 'ROSE' ROOM
[A simple, pleasantly furnished room in the forester's house. The
walls are colour-washed in red; the curtains are of thin
rose-coloured muslin.
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