[Calls.]

Mother!  Fie!  As if I had forgotten that she lies where even the innkeeper’s boots no longer has to open his nut-cracker mouth with a “Yes, sir!” when he is called!  I did not weep when I heard the funeral bell in my dark cell, but—­Redcoat, you would not even let me roll the last ball at the bowling alley, although I already had it in my hand.  Well, I shall not leave you time for a last breath when I meet you alone, and that may happen this very evening!  I know where you are to be found about ten o’clock!  Afterward, aboard ship!—­I wonder where Clara is?  I am as hungry as I am thirsty!  Today is Thursday—­they have veal broth for dinner.  If it were winter, they would have had cabbage—­before Shrove-Tuesday white cabbage—­after Shrove-Tuesday, green cabbage!  That is as fixed as Thursday’s having to come when Wednesday has passed, so that it cannot say to Friday:  You go in my place—­my feet are sore!

SCENE VIII

Enter, CLARA.

CARL.

At last!—­You should not kiss so much!  Whenever four red lips meet a bridge for the devil is built!—­What have you there?

CLARA.

Where?  What?

CARL.

Where?  What?—­In your hand!

CLARA.

Nothing!

CARL.

Nothing?  Is it a secret?

[He snatches LEONARD’S letter.]

Give me that!  When the father is not here the brother is guardian!

CLARA.

I held fast to the scrap of paper, and yet the evening wind is so strong that it blows the tiles off the roofs.  As I was passing the church one fell right in front of me, so that my foot struck against it.  Oh, God!  I thought—­one more!  And I stood still.  That would have been fine; they would have buried me and said:  “She met with an accident!”—­But I waited in vain for the second.

CARL (has read the letter).

Thunder and—­I’ll lame the hand that wrote that!—­Bring me a bottle of wine!  Or is your savings box empty?

CLARA.

There is one more in the house.  I had bought it secretly for mother’s birthday and put it aside.  Tomorrow would have been the day—­[She turns away.]

CARL.

Give it to me!

CLARA (brings the wine).

CARL (drinks quickly).

Now we can start in again—­planing, sawing, hammering, and, in between, eating, drinking, and sleeping, so that we can go on planing, sawing, and hammering, and on Sundays do a bit of praying into the bargain!  I thank Thee, O Lord, that I may plane, saw, and hammer!

[Drinks.]

Long live every good dog that is tied to a chain, and yet does not snap at everything around him!

[He drinks again.]

And once more:  Here’s to his health!

CLARA.

Carl, do not drink so much!  Father says the devil lurks in wine!