—­She thinks girls don’t drown.  I have seen many girls drowned.  They look like all drowned people, wet and green.

—­She thinks girls don’t get killed by stones thrown at them.

—­Poor woman, she has such a hard time giving birth to her child.  We have been sitting here sixteen hours, and she is still crying.  At first she cried out loud.  Her screams pierced our ears.  Then she cried more quietly, and now she is only moaning.

—­The doctor says she’ll die.

—­No, the doctor says the child will die and she will live.

—­Why do they bear children?  It is so painful.

—­And why do they die?  It is still more painful.

[The Old Women laugh suppressedly.

—­Yes, they bear children and die.

—­And bear children again.

[They laugh.  A subdued cry of the suffering woman is heard.

—­Beginning again.

—­She’s recovered her voice.  That’s good.

—­That’s good.

—­Poor husband.  He’s lost his head completely.  You ought to see him.  He’s a sight.  At first he was glad his wife was pregnant and said he wanted a boy.  He thinks his son will be a cabinet minister or a general.  Now he doesn’t want anything, neither a boy nor a girl.  He just goes about grieving and crying.

—­Every time she is seized with pain he begins to labor, too, and gets red in the face.

—­He was sent to the chemist’s shop for medicine, and he hung about there for two hours without being able to remember what he was sent for.  He returned without it.

[The Old Women titter.  The cries grow louder and die away.  Silence.

—­What’s the matter with her?  Maybe she has died already.

—­No.  If she had, we’d hear crying, and the doctor would come running and begin to talk nonsense.  They’d bring her husband out in a faint, and we’d have to work over him.  No, she’s not dead.

—­Then what are we sitting here for?

—­Ask Him.  What do we know?

—­He won’t tell.

—­He won’t tell.  He never tells anything.

—­He orders us about as he pleases, gets us out of bed, and makes us watch; and then it turns out that our coming wasn’t even needed.

—­We came of our own accord, didn’t we?  We must tell the truth.  There, she’s screaming again.

—­Haven’t you had as much of it as you want?

—­Are you satisfied?

—­I keep my mouth shut and wait.

—­You’re an angel.

[They laugh.  The cries grow louder.

—­Listen to her.  What fearful pain she must be suffering.  Have you any idea of what the pain is like?  It’s as if your insides were being torn to pieces.

—­We all have borne children.

—­It’s just as if she were not herself.  I don’t recognize our friend’s voice.  It’s naturally so soft and gentle.

—­Her screaming is more like the roar of a wild beast.