We're in an awful state here. It's not livin' an' it's not dyin'. A man fights to the bitter end, but he's bound to be beat at last--to be left without a roof over his head, you may say without ground under his feet. As long as he can work at the loom he can earn some sort o poor, miserable livin'. But it's many a day since I've been able to get that sort o' job. Now I tries to put a bite into my mouth with this here basket-mak-in'. I sits at it late into the night, and by the time I tumbles into bed I've earned three-halfpence. I puts it to you as knows things, if a man can live on that, when everything's so dear? Nine shillin' goes in one lump for house tax, three shillin' for land tax, nine shillin' for mortgage interest--that makes one pound one. I may reckon my year's earnin' at just double that money, and that leaves me twenty-one shillin' for a whole year's food, an' fire, an' clothes, an' shoes; and I've got to keep up some sort of a place to live in. An' there's odds an' ends. Is it a wonder if I'm behindhand with my interest payments? OLD BAUMERT Some one would need to go to Berlin an' tell the King how hard put to it we are. JAEGER Little good that would do, father Baumert. There's been plenty written about it in the news-papers. But the rich people, they can turn and twist things round ... as cunning as the devil himself. OLD BAUMERT [_Shaking his head._] To think they've no more sense than that in Berlin. ANSORGE And is it really true, Moritz? Is there no law to help us? If a man hasn't been able to scrape together enough to pay his mortgage interest, though he's worked the very skin off his hands, must his house be taken from him? The peasant that's lent the money on it, he wants his rights--what else can you look for from him? But what's to be the end of it all, I don't know.--If I'm put out o' the house ... [_In a voice choked by tears._] I was born here, and here my father sat at his loom for more than forty year. Many was the time he said to mother: Mother, when I'm gone, keep hold o' the house. I've worked hard for it. Every nail means a night's weavin', every plank a year's dry bread. A man would think that ... JAEGER They're just as like to take the last bite out of your mouth--that's what they are. ANSORGE Well, well, well! I would rather be carried out than have to walk out now in my old days. Who minds dyin'? My father, he was glad to die. At the very end he got frightened, but I crept into bed beside him, an' he quieted down again. Think of it; I was a lad of thirteen then. I was tired and fell asleep beside him--I knew no better--and when I woke he was quite cold. MOTHER BAUMERT [_After a pause._] Give Ansorge his soup out o' the oven, Bertha. BERTHA Here, father Ansorge, it'll do you good. ANSORGE [_Eating and shedding tears._] Well, well, well! [_OLD BAUMERT has begun to eat the meat out of the saucepan._ MOTHER BAUMERT