e, separated from the enemy by a poor window.... They
think nothing will happen because they have shut the door, and do not
know that something is always happening in our souls, and that the
world does not end at the doors of our houses.... They are so sure of
their little life and do not suspect how many others know more of
it than they; and that I, poor old man,--I hold here, two steps from
their door, all their little happiness, like a sick bird, in my old
hands I do not dare to open....

MARY.

Have pity, grandfather....

THE OLD MAN.

We have pity on them, my child, but no one has pity on us....

MARY.

Tell them to-morrow, grandfather; tell them when it is light.... They
will not be so sorrowful....

THE OLD MAN.

Perhaps you are right, my child.... It would be better to leave all
this in the night. And the light is sweet to sorrow.... But what would
they say to us to-morrow? Misfortune renders jealous; they whom it
strikes, wish to be told before strangers; they do not like to have it
left in the hands of those they do not know.... We should look as if
we had stolen something....

THE STRANGER.

There is no more time, besides; I hear the murmur of prayers
already....

MARY.

There they are.... They are passing behind the hedges....

_Enter_ MARTHA.

MARTHA.

Here I am. I have brought them this far. I have told them to wait on
the road. [_Cries of children heard._] Ah! the children are crying
again.... I forbade their coming.... But they wanted to see too, and
the mothers would not obey.... I will go tell them.... No; they are
silent.--Is everything ready?--I have brought the little ring that was
found on her.... I have some fruit, too, for the child.... I laid her
out myself on the litter. She looks as if she were asleep.... I had
a good deal of trouble; her hair would not obey.... I had some
marguerites plucked.... It is sad, there were no other flowers....
What are you doing here? Why are you not by them?... [_She looks at
the windows._] They do not weep?... They ... you have not told them?

THE OLD MAN.

Martha, Martha, there is too much life in your soul; you cannot
understand....

MARTHA.

Why should I not understand?... [_After a silence and in a tone of
very grave reproach._] You cannot have done that, grandfather....

THE OLD MAN.

Martha, you do not know....

MARTHA.

_I_ will tell them.

THE OLD MAN.

Stay here, my child, and look at them a moment.

MARTHA.

Oh