[_Roars after him._] He's no right to forbid, it--not if we was to roar till the windows shook an' they could hear us at Reichenbach--not if we sang till the manufacturers' houses tumbled about their ears an' all the superintendents' helmets danced on the top of their heads. It's nobody's business but our own.
[_BECKER has in the meantime got up, made a signal for singing, and now leads off, the others joining in._
The justice to us weavers dealt Is bloody, cruel, and hateful; Our life's one torture, long drawn out; For Lynch law we'd be grateful.
[_WELZEL attempts to quiet them, but they pay no attention to him.
WIEGAND puts his hands to his ears and rushes off. During the singing of the next stanza the weavers rise and form, into procession behind BECKER and WITTIG, who have given pantomimic signs for a general break-up._
Stretched on the rack, day after day, Hearts sick and bodies aching, Our heavy sighs their witness bear To spirit slowly breaking.
[_Most of the weavers sing the following stanza, out on the street, only a few young fellows, who are paying, being still in the bar. At the conclusion of the stanza no one is left in the room except WELZEL and his wife and daughter, HORNIG, and OLD BAUMERT._
You villains all, you brood of hell, You fiends in fashion human, A curse will fall on all like you Who prey on man and woman.
WELZEL
[_Phlegmatically collecting the glasses._] Their backs are up to-day, an'
no mistake.
HORNIG
[_To OLD BAUMERT, who is preparing to go._] What in the name of Heaven are they up to, Baumert?
BAUMERT
They're goin' to Dreissiger's to make him add something on to the pay.
WELZEL
And are you joining in these foolish goings on?
OLD BAUMERT
I've no choice, Welzel. The young men may an' the old men must.
[_Goes out rather shamefacedly._
HORNIG
It'll not surprise me if this ends badly.
WELZEL
To think that even old fellows like him are goin' right off their heads!
HORNIG
We all set our hearts on something!
END OF THE THIRD ACT
THE FOURTH ACT
_Peterswaldau.--Private room of DREISSIGER, _the fustian manufacturer--luxuriously furnished in the chilly taste of the first half of this century. Ceiling, doors, and stove are white, and the wall paper, with its small, straight-lined floral pattern, is dull and cold in tone. The furniture is mahogany, richly-carved, and upholstered in red. On the right, between two windows with crimson damask curtains, stands the writing-table, a high bureau with falling flap. Directly opposite to this is the sofa, with the strong-box; beside it; in front of the sofa a table, with chairs and easy-chairs arranged about it. Against the back wall is a gun-rack. All three walls are decorated with bad pictures in gilt frames. Above the sofa is a mirror with a heavily gilt rococo frame. On the left an ordinary door leads into the hall. An open folding door at the back shows the drawing-room, over-furnished in the same style of comfortless ostentation. Two ladies, MRS. DREISSIGER and MRS. KITTELHAUS, the Pastor's wife, are seen in the drawing-room, looking at pictures.
PASTOR KITTELHAUS is there too, engaged in conversation with WEINHOLD, the tutor, a theological graduate._
KITTELHAUS
[_A kindly little elderly man, enters the front room, smoking and chatting familiarly with the tutor, who is also smoking; he looks round and shakes his head in surprise at finding the room empty._] You are young, Mr. Weinhold, which explains everything. At your age we old fellows held--well, I won't say the same opinions--but certainly opinions of the same tendency. And there's something fine about youth--youth with its grand ideals. But unfortunately, Mr. Weinhold, they don't last; they are as fleeting as April sunshine. Wait till you are my age. When a man has said his say from the pulpit for thirty years--fifty-two times every year, not including saints' days--he has inevitably calmed down. Think of me, Mr. Weinhold, when you come to that pass.
WEINHOLD
[_Nineteen, pale, thin, tall, with lanky fair hair; restless and nervous in his movements._] With all due respect, Mr. Kittelhaus.... I can't think ... people have such different natures.
KITTELHAUS
My dear Mr. Weinhold, however restless-minded and unsettled, a man may be--[_in a tone of reproof_]--and you are a case in point--however violently and wantonly he may attack the existing order of things, he calms down in the end. I grant you, certainly, that among our professional brethren individuals are to be found, who, at a fairly advanced age, still play youthful pranks. One preaches against the drink evil and founds temperance societies, another publishes appeals which undoubtedly read most effectively. But what good do they do? The distress among the weavers, where it does exist, is in no way lessened--but the peace of society is undermined. No, no; one feels inclined in such cases to say: Cobbler, stick to your last; don't take to caring for the belly, you who have the care of souls. Preach the pure Word of God, and leave all else to Him who provides shelter and food for the birds, and clothes the lilies of the field.--But I should like to know where our good host, Mr. Dreissiger, has suddenly disappeared to.
[_MRS. DREISSIGER, followed by MRS. KITTELHAUS, now comes forward.
She is a pretty woman of thirty, of a healthy, florid type. A certain discrepancy is noticeable between her deportment and way of expressing herself and her rich, elegant toilette._]
MRS. DREISSIGER
That's what I want to know too, Mr. Kittelhaus. But it's what William always does. No sooner does a thing come into his head than off he goes and leaves me in the lurch. I've said enough about it, but it does no good.
KITTELHAUS
It's always the way with business men, my dear Mrs. Dreissiger.
WEINHOLD
I'm almost certain that something has happened downstairs.
_DREISSIGER enters, hot and excited._
DREISSIGER
Well, Rosa, is coffee served?
MRS. DREISSIGER
[_Sulkily._] Fancy your needing to run away again!