The Dramatic Works of Gerhart Hauptmann Volume I Part 83

GOTTLIEB

[_From the other room._] There you are, lettin' that tongue of yours run away with you again.

OLD HILSE

You should think twice, la.s.s, before you talk that G.o.dless way. [_He goes to his loom, calls._] Can you give me a hand, Gottlieb?--there's a few threads to pull through.

LUISE

[_From her tub._] Gottlieb, you're wanted to help father.

[_GOTTLIEB comes in, and he and his father set themselves to the troublesome task of "drawing and slaying," that is, pulling the strands of the warp through the "heddles" and "reed" of the loom.

They have hardly begun to do this when HORNIG appears in the outer room._

HORNIG

[_At the door._] Good luck to your work!

HILSE AND HIS SON

Thank you, Hornig.

OLD HILSE

I say, Hornig, when do you take your sleep? You're on your rounds all day, an' on watch all night.

HORNIG

Sleep's gone from me nowadays.

LUISE

Glad to see you, Hornig!

OLD HILSE

An' what's the news?

HORNIG

It's queer news this mornin'. The weavers at Peterswaldau has taken the law into their own hands, an' chased Dreissiger an' his whole family out of the place.

LUISE

[_Perceptibly agitated._] Hornig's at his lies again.

HORNIG

No, missus, not this time, not to-day.--I've some beautiful pinafores in my cart,--No, it's G.o.d's truth I'm tellin' you. They've sent him to the right-about. He came down to Reichenbach last night, but, Lord love you!

they daren't take him in there, for fear of the weavers--off he had to go again, all the way to Schweidnitz.

OLD HILSE

[_Has been carefully lifting threads of the web and approaching them to the holes, through which, from the other side, GOTTLIEB pushes a wire hook, with which he catches them and draws them through._] It's about time you were stoppin' now, Hornig!

HORNIG

It's as sure as I'm a livin' man. Every child in the place'll soon tell you the same story.

OLD HILSE

Either your wits are a-wool-gatherin' or mine are.

HORNIG

Not mine. What I'm tellin' you's as true as the Bible. I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't stood there an' seen it with my own eyes--as I see you now, Gottlieb. They've wrecked his house from the cellar to the roof.

The good china came flyin' out at the garret windows, rattlin' down the roof. G.o.d only knows how many pieces of fustian are lying soakin' in the river! The water can't get away for them--it's running over the banks, the colour of washin'-blue with all the indigo they've poured out at the windows. Clouds of sky-blue dust was flyin' along. Oh, it's a terrible destruction they've worked! And it's not only the house ... it's the dye-works too ... an' the stores! They've broken the stair rails, they've torn up the fine flooring--smashed the lookin'-gla.s.ses--cut an' hacked an' torn an' smashed the sofas an' the chairs.--It's awful--it's worse than war.

OLD HILSE

An' you would have me believe that my fellow weavers did all that?

[_He shakes his head incredulously._

[_Other tenants of the house have collected at the door and are listening eagerly._

HORNIG

Who else, I'd like to know? I could put names to every one of 'em. It was me took the sheriff through the house, an' I spoke to a whole lot of 'em, an' they answered me back--quite friendly like. They did their business with little noise, but my word! they did it well. The sheriff spoke to 'em, and they answered him mannerly, as they always do. But there wasn't no stoppin' of them. They hacked on at the beautiful furniture as if they was workin' for wages.

OLD HILSE

_You_ took the sheriff through the house?

HORNIG

An' what would I be frightened of? Every one knows me. I'm always turnin'

up, like a bad penny. But no one has anything agin' me. They're all glad to see me. Yes, I went the rounds with him, as sure as my name's Hornig.

An' you may believe me or not as you like, but my heart's sore yet from the sight--an' I could see by the sheriff's face that he felt queer enough too. For why? Not a livin' word did we hear--they was doin' their work and holdin' their tongues. It was a solemn an' a woeful sight to see the poor starvin' creatures for once in a way takin' their revenge.

LUISE

[_With irrepressible excitement, trembling, wiping her eyes with her ap.r.o.n._] An' right they are! It's only what should be!

VOICES AMONG THE CROWD AT THE DOOR

"There's some of the same sort here."--"There's one no farther away than across the river."--"He's got four horses in his stable an' six carriages, an' he starves his weavers to keep 'em."

OLD HILSE