The main room is
empty but one continues to hear the farmer's voice:_ Ain' I got the
finest teeth? Ain' I got a fine farm? _MIELE comes through the middle
door and looks searchingly about. She calls:_ Miss Helen! Miss Helen!
_Meanwhile the farmer's voice:_ The money 'sh mi-ine! _Without
further hesitation MIELE has disappeared into HOFFMANN'S room, the
door of which she leaves open. In the next moment she rushes out with
every sign of insane terror. Screaming she spins around
twice--thrice--screaming she flies through the middle door. Her
uninterrupted screaming, softening as it recedes, is audible for
several seconds. Last there is heard the opening and resonant
slamming of the heavy house door, the tread of the farmer stumbling
about in the hall, and his coarse, nasal, thick-tongued drunkard's
voice echoes through the room:_ Hay-hee! Ain' I got a couple o'
han'some gals?
CURTAIN
THE WEAVERS
_I DEDICATE THIS DRAMA TO MY FATHER
ROBERT HAUPTMANN.
You, dear father, know what feelings lead me to dedicate this work to
you, and I am not called upon to analyse them here.
Your stories of my grandfather, who in his young days sat at the
loom, a poor weaver like those here depicted, contained the germ of
my drama.
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