[_The rioters are now all gone. The entry-room, gradually fills again with curious onlookers from the different rooms of the house. OLD HILSE knots at his web. GOTTLIEB has taken an axe from behind the stove and is unconsciously feeling its edge. He and the old man are silently agitated. The hum and roar of a great crowd penetrate into the room._ MOTHER HILSE The very boards is shakin', father--what's goin' on? What's goin' to happen to us? [_Pause._] OLD HILSE Gottlieb! GOTTLIEB What is it? OLD HILSE Let that axe alone. GOTTLIEB Who's to split the wood, then? [_He leans the axe against the stove._ [_Pause._] MOTHER HILSE Gottlieb, you listen, to what father says to you. [_Some one sings outside the window:_ Our little man does all that he can, Heigh-ho, heigh! At home he cleans the pots an' the pan, Heigh-diddle-di-dum-di! [_Passes on._ GOTTLIEB [_Jumps up, shakes his clenched fist at the window._] Beast! Don't drive me crazy! [_A volley of musketry is heard._ MOTHER HILSE [_Starts and trembles._] Good Lord! Is that thunder again? OLD HILSE [_Instinctively folding his hands._] Oh, our Father in heaven! defend the poor weavers, protect my poor brothers. [_A short pause ensues._ OLD HILSE [_To himself, painfully agitated._] There's blood flowin' now. GOTTLIEB [_Had started up and grasped the axe when the shooting was heard; deathly pale, almost beside himself with excitement._] An' am I to lie to heel like a dog still? A GIRL [_Calls from the entry-room._] Father Hilse, father Hilse! get away from the window. A bullet's just flown in at ours upstairs. [_Disappears._ MIELCHEN [_Puts her head in at the window, laughing._] Gran'father, gran'father, they've shot with their guns. Two or three's been knocked down, an' one of 'em's turnin' round and round like a top, an' one's twistin' hisself like a sparrow when its head's bein' pulled of. An' oh, if you saw all the blood that came pourin'--! [_Disappears._ A WEAVER'S WIFE Yes, there's two or three'll never get up again. AN OLD WEAVER [_In the entry-room._] Look out! They're goin' to make a rush on the soldiers. A SECOND WEAVER [_Wildly._] Look, look, look at the women! skirts up, an' spittin' in the soldiers' faces already! A WEAVER'S WIFE [_Calls in._] Gottlieb, look at your wife. She's more pluck in her than you. She's jumpin' about in front o' the bay'nets as if she was dancin' to music. [_Four men carry a wounded rioter through the entry-room. Silence, which is broken by some one saying in a distinct voice,_ "It's weaver Ulbrich." _Once more silence for a few seconds, when the same voice is heard again:_ "It's all over with him; he's got a bullet in his ear." _The men are heard climbing the wooden stair. Sudden shouting outside:_ "Hurrah, hurrah!" VOICES IN THE ENTRY-ROOM