_A room, furnished peasant fashion, in the basement of the "Grey Swan" hotel. Through two windows set high in the left wall, the gloomy light of a late winter afternoon sickers in. Under the windows there stands a bed of soft wood, varnished yellow, in which MRS. HENSCHEL is lying ill. She is about thirty-six years of age. Near the bed her little six-months-old daughter lies in her cradle. A second bed stands against the back wall which, like the other walls, is painted blue with a dark, plain border near the ceiling. In front, toward the right, stands a great tile-oven surrounded by a bench. A plentiful supply of small split kindling wood is piled up in the roomy bin. The wall to the right has a door leading to a smaller room. HANNE SCHAeL, a vigorous, young maid servant is very busy in the room. She has put her wooden pattens aside and walks about in her thick, blue stockings. She takes from the oven an iron pot in which food is cooking and puts it back again. Cooking spoons, a twirling stick and a strainer lie on the bench; also a large, thick earthenware jug with a thin, firmly corked neck. Beneath the bench stands the water pitcher. HANNE'S skirts are gathered up in a thick pad; her bodice is dark grey; her muscular arms are bare. Around the top of the oven is fastened a square wooden rod, on which long hunting stockings are hung up to dry, as well as swaddling clothes, leathern breeches and a pair of tall, water-tight boots. To the right of the oven stand a clothes press and a chest of drawers--old fashioned, gaily coloured, Silesian pieces of furniture. Through the open door in the rear wall one looks out upon a dark, broad, underground corridor which ends in a glass door with manicoloured panes. Behind this door wooden steps lead upward. These stairs are always illuminated by a jet of gas so that the panes of the door shine brightly. It is in the middle of February; the weather without is stormy._ _FRANZ, a young fellow in sober coachman's livery, ready to drive out, looks in._ FRANZ Hanne! HANNE Eh? FRANZ Is the missis asleep? HANNE What d'you suppose? Don't make so much noise! FRANZ There's doors enough slammin' in this house. If that don't wake her up--! I'm goin' to drive the carriage to Waldenburg. HANNE Who's goin'? FRANZ The madam. She's goin' to buy birthday presents. HANNE Whose birthday is it? FRANZ Little Karl's. HANNE Great goin's on--those. To hitch up the horses on account o' that fool of a kid an' travel to Waldenburg in such weather! FRANZ Well, I has my fur coat! HANNE Those people don't know no more how to get rid o' their money! We got to slave instead!