.. It's
exactly twelve now ... The dyers are coming out for their dinner ...
BECKER
I gets my pay into my hand--here--that's where!
[_Points with the fingers of his right hand at the palm of his left._
DREISSIGER
[_To the APPRENTICE._] Pick up the money, Tilgner.
[_The APPRENTICE lifts the money and puts it into BECKER'S hand._
BECKER
Everything in proper order.
[_Deliberately takes an old purse out of his pocket and puts the
money into it._
DREISSIGER
[_As BECKER still does not move away._] Well? Do you want me to come and
help you?
[_Signs of agitation are observable among the crowd of weavers. A
long, loud sigh is heard, and then a fall. General interest is at
once diverted to this new event._
DREISSIGER
What's the matter there?
CHORUS OF WEAVERS AND WOMEN
"Some one's fainted."--"It's a little sickly boy."--"Is it a fit, or what?"
DREISSIGER
What do you say? Fainted?
[_He goes nearer._
OLD WEAVER
There he lies, any way.
[_They make room. A boy of about eight is seen lying on the floor as
if dead._
DREISSIGER
Does any one know the boy?
OLD WEAVER
He's not from our village.
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