proudly. Strong, intelligent
features, but pale. Her eyes are large with anxiety. She has soft, wavy
black hair. An inward flame seems to be consuming her.

The sounds continue in the distance, cheering, disputing mingled with
far bugle-calls and marching feet._]

_Hedwig:_ [_Contemptuously._]

Ha!

[_The sound startles the others. They turn._]

_All:_

Hedwig!

_Hedwig:_

[_Still in the doorway, looking out._]

War brides!

_Minna:_ [_Pertly._]

You're a war bride yourself, Hedwig.

_Hedwig:_ [_Turns quickly, locates Minna, almost springs at her._]

Don't you dare to call me a war bride! My ring is gold. See. [_Seizes
Minna's hand, and then throws it from her._] Not iron, like yours.

_Minna:_

[_Boldly taunting._]

They even call you the first war bride.

_Hedwig:_ [_Furious, towering over her, her hand on her shoulder._]

Say why, why?

_Minna:_ [_Weakening._]

Because you were the first one to be married when the war broke out.

_Hedwig:_ [_Both hands on her shoulders._]

Because the Government commanded? Because they bribed me with the
promise of a widow's pension? Tell the truth.

_Minna:_ [_Faintly._]

No. Let me go.

_Hedwig:_

So! And how long had Franz and I been engaged? Now say.

_Minna:_ [_Beginning to be frightened._]

Two years.

_Hedwig:_ [_Flinging her off._]

Of course. Everybody knows it. Every village this side the river knew we
were to be married this summer. We've dreamed and worked for nothing
else all these months. It had nothing to do with the war--our love, our
marriage. So, you see, I am no war bride. [_Walks scornfully away._] Not
like you, anyway.

[_They all stare at her._]

_Hoffman:_ [_Stepping forward indignantly._]

I don't know why you should have this contempt for our war brides, and
speak like that.

_Hedwig:_ [_Sits down, half turned away. She shrugs her shoulders, and
her lips curl in a little smile._]

_Hoffman:_

They are coming to the rescue of their country. Saving it; else it will
perish.

_Hedwig:_ [_Bitterly._]

Ha!

_Hoffman:_ [_Waxing warmer._]

They are the saviors of the future.

_Hedwig:_ [_Sadly._]

The future!

_Mother:_ [_Softly, laying her hand on Hedwig's shoulder._]

Hedwig, be more respectful. Herr Hoffman is a lieutenant.

_Hoffman:_

When we are gone,--the best of us,--what will the country do if it has
no children?

_Hedwig:_

Why didn't you thin