Marie. [_Glancing up from her work, sorting linen_.] Of whom, mama dear? Mrs. Brauer. Why, the new pastor. Marie. Oh mama, my mind is so occupied, I hadn't given him a thought. Gertrude. [_Aside to_ George.] Now you tell her, George. Marie. Gertrude, how about our manzanillo-tree--any blossoms this morning? Mrs. Brauer. You don't mean to say you haven't looked after that beloved tree of yours this morning? Marie. I have had no time, mama dear. Gertrude. [_To_ George.] Now tell her. George. Marie, both Gertrude and myself insist, that you cease this endless drudgery for our sakes; it isn't right. [Marie, _humming, pays no heed--looks into space_.] Gertrude. See, she is not even listening. Mrs. Brauer. What's that you are singing? Marie. I--? Was I singing? Mrs. Brauer. Well then, humming. Marie. Oh yes, last night at the station I heard a strange song--some one in a fourth-class coach was singing. Listen. [_Sings_.] "Zwirio czenay, zwirio tenay--kam'mano bernyczo--Rid wid wil dai dai--Ne'r mano bernyczo." George. And the Lithuanian text--you memorized it just from hearing it? Marie. Certainly. George. Well, where did you learn all that? Marie. Why, I have always known it. George. And could you translate it readily? Marie. Oh, it means nothing, really--[_makes one or two attempts_.]--"here"--no! "I look here and I look there--where may be my lover? Rid wid will dai dai--Nowhere is my lover!" Brauer. [_Enters during this, unseen by her, puts arms around her. She shrieks_.] There, there--[_caressing her_.] Patience, my darling, some day you will have one--perhaps very soon. Why, what's the matter, dear? Marie. [_Leans on him in tearless sobbing_.] Oh, you have frightened me so! Brauer. What is the matter with you this morning? What has happened? Marie. I have already told you, nothing. Brauer. Tut, tut! something has gone wrong! I can see it--and now, I demand that you tell me the truth. Marie. Well, then--yes! Brauer. What is it? Come, come, out with it. Marie. Some one attacked me.