He twines his arms more closely around her. They stand there silent and motionless while the storm tugs and tears at them, and the rain beats down upon their heads. Then from the village come the cracked notes of the post-horn, half drowned by the blast. "Our time is up," he says, shivering. "I must go." "Now--the night?" she stammers voicelessly. He nods. "And I shall never see you again?" A wild scream rends the storm. "Johannes, have pity, I cannot let you go. I cannot live without you!" Her fingers dig themselves into his shoulders. "You shall not--I will not let you." He tries to free himself by main force. "Ah, well--you are going--oh--you--you--you are wicked! You know that I must die if you go, I cannot--Take me with you! Take me with you!" "Are you out of your senses, woman?" He covers his face with his hands and groans aloud. "So--this is what you call being out of one's senses! Does not even a lamb struggle--when led to the slaughter? And you are capable of----Ah, is this all your love for me? Is this all? Is this all?" "Don't you think of Martin?" "He is your brother. That is all I know about him. But I know that I must die if I stay with him any longer. It makes me shudder to think of him! Take me with you, my husband! Take me with you!" He grasps both her wrists, and shaking her to and fro, he whispers with half-choked utterance: "And do you know besides that I am ruined and disgraced--an outcast, a drunkard, no good at all in the world? If you could see me, you would have a horror of me, good people shun me and loathe me--do you think I should be good to you? I shall never forgive you for coming between me and Martin--never forgive you for making me sin against him as I have done for your sake. He will be between us as long as we live. I shall insult you--I shall beat you when I am drunk. You will find it hell at my side. Well? What do you say now?" She bows her head demurely, folds her hands and says: "Take me with you!" A scream of exultant joy escapes his lips. "Then come--but come quickly. The coach stops for a quarter of an hour. No one will see us except Franz Maas--the only one he will not betray us. In the town you can get clothes and then.... Stop! What does this mean?" The mill has awakened to life. A yellow light streams out into the darkness from the wide-opened door. A lantern sways across the yard then, thrown to one side, flies in a gleaming curve through the air like a shooting star. Martin lies in bed asleep. Suddenly there is a tap at the window-pane. "Who is there?" "I--David!" "What do you want?" "Open the door, Master! I have something important to tell you." Martin jumps out of bed, strikes a light and hurries on his clothes. A casual glance falls upon Trude's empty bed. Evidently she has dozed off on the sitting-room over her sewing, for it is a long time since she has known sound, healthy sleep.