_OLD HILSE is a bearded man of strong build, but bent and wasted with age, toil, sickness, and hardship. He is an old soldier, and has lost an arm. His nose is sharp, his complexion ashen-grey, and he shakes; he is nothing but skin and bone, and has the deep-set, sore weaver's eyes._ OLD HILSE [_Stands up, as do his son and daughter-in-law; prays._] O Lord, we know not how to be thankful enough to Thee, for that Thou hast spared us this night again in Thy goodness ... an' hast had pity on us ... an' hast suffered us to take no harm. Thou art the All-merciful, an' we are poor, sinful children of men--that bad that we are not worthy to be trampled under Thy feet. Yet Thou art our loving Father, an' Thou will look upon us an' accept us for the sake of Thy dear Son, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. "Jesus' blood and righteousness, Our covering is and glorious dress." An' if we're sometimes too sore cast down under Thy chastening--when the fire of Thy purification burns too ragin' hot--oh, lay it not to our charge; forgive us our sin. Give us patience, heavenly Father, that after all these sufferin's we may be made partakers of Thy eternal blessedness. Amen. MOTHER HILSE [_Who has been bending forward, trying hard to hear._] What a beautiful prayer you do say, father! [_LUISE goes off to the washtub, GOTTLIEB to the room on the other side of the passage._ OLD HILSE Where's the little lass? LUISE She's gone to Peterswaldau, to Dreissiger's. She finished all she had to wind last night. OLD HILSE [_Speaking very loud._] You'd like the wheel now, mother, eh? MOTHER HILSE Yes, father, I'm quite ready. OLD HILSE [_Setting it down before her._] I wish I could do the work for you. MOTHER HILSE An' what would be the good o' that, father? There would I be, sittin' not knowin' what to do. OLD HILSE I'll give your fingers a wipe, then, so that they'll not grease the yarn. [_He wipes her hands with a rag._ LUISE [_At her tub._] If there's grease on her hands, it's not from what she's eaten. OLD HILSE If we've no butter, we can eat dry bread--when we've no bread, we can eat potatoes--when there's no potatoes left, we can eat bran. LUISE [_Saucily._] An' when that's all eaten, we'll do as the Wenglers did--we'll find out where the skinner's buried some stinking old horse, an' we'll dig it up an' live for a week or two on rotten carrion--how nice that'll be! GOTTLIEB [_From the other room._] There you are, lettin' that tongue of yours run away with you again. OLD HILSE You should think twice, lass, before you talk that godless 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.