Tell them to-morrow, grandfather; tell them when it is light.... They will not be so sorrowful.... THE OLD MAN. Perhaps you are right, my child.... It would be better to leave all this in the night. And the light is sweet to sorrow.... But what would they say to us to-morrow? Misfortune renders jealous; they whom it strikes, wish to be told before strangers; they do not like to have it left in the hands of those they do not know.... We should look as if we had stolen something.... THE STRANGER. There is no more time, besides; I hear the murmur of prayers already.... MARY. There they are.... They are passing behind the hedges.... _Enter_ MARTHA. MARTHA. Here I am. I have brought them this far. I have told them to wait on the road. [_Cries of children heard._] Ah! the children are crying again.... I forbade their coming.... But they wanted to see too, and the mothers would not obey.... I will go tell them.... No; they are silent.--Is everything ready?--I have brought the little ring that was found on her.... I have some fruit, too, for the child.... I laid her out myself on the litter. She looks as if she were asleep.... I had a good deal of trouble; her hair would not obey.... I had some marguerites plucked.... It is sad, there were no other flowers.... What are you doing here? Why are you not by them?... [_She looks at the windows._] They do not weep?... They ... you have not told them? THE OLD MAN. Martha, Martha, there is too much life in your soul; you cannot understand.... MARTHA. Why should I not understand?... [_After a silence and in a tone of very grave reproach._] You cannot have done that, grandfather.... THE OLD MAN. Martha, you do not know.... MARTHA. _I_ will tell them. THE OLD MAN. Stay here, my child, and look at them a moment. MARTHA. Oh, how unhappy they are!... They can wait no longer. THE OLD MAN. Why? MARTHA. I do not know;... it is no longer possible!... THE OLD MAN. Come here, my child.... MARTHA. How patient they are! THE OLD MAN. Come here, my child.... MARTHA. [_Turning._] Where are you, grandfather? I am so unhappy I cannot see you any more.... I do not know what to do myself any more.... THE OLD MAN. Do not look at them any more; till they know all.... MARTHA. I will go in with you.... THE OLD MAN. No, Martha, stay here.... Sit beside your sister, on this old stone bench, against the wall of the house, and do not look.... You are too young; you never could forget.... You cannot know what a face is like at the moment when death passes before its eyes.... There will be cries, perhaps.... Do not turn round.... Perhaps there will be nothing.... Above all, do not turn if you hear nothing.... One does not know the course of grief beforehand.... A few little deep-rooted sobs, and that is all, usually.... I do not know myself what I may do when I shall hear them.... That belongs no longer to this life.... Kiss me, my child, before I go away....