light. A large, very poor room, high walls, the color of old rose, covered here and there with beautiful, fantastic, roughly drawn designs. To the right are two lofty windows, eight panes in each, with the darkness of night glooming through them. Two poor beds, two chairs, and a bare table, on which stands a half-broken pitcher of water and a pretty bunch of flowers.
In the darkest corner stands Someone in Gray, the candle in His hand now reduced by a third, but the flame still very bright, high, and white. It throws a powerful light on His face and chin.
Enter the Neighbors, dressed in light, gay dresses, their hands full of flowers, grasses, and fresh branches of oak and birch. They run about the room, scattering them. Their faces are merry, simple, and good-natured.
NEIGHBORS' CONVERSATION
—How poor they are! Look, they haven't even a single spare chair.
—And no curtains in the windows.
—And no pictures on the walls.
—How poor they are! All they eat is hard bread.
—And all they drink is water, cold water from the spring.
—They don't own any clothes at all except what they have on. She always goes about in her rosy dress with her neck bare, which makes her look like a young girl.
—And he wears his blouse and loose necktie, which makes him look like an artist, and makes the dogs bark at him.
—And makes all the respectable people disapprove of him.
—Dogs hate the poor. I saw three dogs attack him yesterday. He beat them off with a stick and shouted: "Don't you dare to touch my trousers; they're my last pair!" And he laughed, and the dogs flung themselves at him and showed their teeth and barked viciously.
—I saw two respectable people, a lady and a gentleman, meet him on the street to-day. They were terribly frightened and crossed to the other side. "He'll ask for money," said the gentleman. "He'll kill us," piped the lady. From the other side of the street they looked back at him and held on to their pockets. He shook his head and laughed.
—He's such a jolly good fellow.
—They're always laughing.
—And singing.
—It's he who sings. She dances.
—In her rosy dress, with her little bare neck.
—It does one good to look at them. They are so young and wholesome.
—I am sorry for them. They're starving. Do you understand? They're actually going without food.
—Yes, it's true. They had more clothes and furniture, but they sold every bit, and now they've nothing more to sell.
—I know. She had such pretty earrings, and she sold them to buy bread.
—He had a beautiful black frock-coat, the one in which he was married, and he sold that too.
—The only thing they'll have left is their engagement rings. How poor they are!
—That's nothing. I was once young myself, and I know what it is.
—What did you say, grandpa?
—I said it's nothing, nothing at all.
—Look, the mere thought of them makes grandpa want to sing.
—And dance.
[They laugh.
—He is so kind. He made my boy a bow and arrow.
—She cried with me when my daughter was ill.
—He helped me mend the rickety fence. He's strong.
—It's nice to have such good neighbors. Their youth warms our cold old age. Their jolliness drives away our cares.
—But their room is like a prison, it's so empty.
—No, it's like a temple. It's so bright.
—Look, they have flowers on the table, the flowers she picked on her walk in the country in her rosy dress with her little bare neck. Here are lilies-of-the-valley. The dew hasn't dried on them yet.
—There is the burning campion.
—And violets.
—Don't touch; don't touch the flowers, girls. Her kisses are upon them. Don't throw them on the floor, girls. Her breath is upon them. Don't blow them away with your breath. Don't touch, don't touch the flowers, girls.
—He'll come and he'll see the flowers.
—He'll take the kisses.
—He'll drink her breath.
—How poor they are! How happy they are!
—Come, let's leave.
—Haven't we brought our dear neighbors anything?
—What a shame!
—I brought a bottle of milk and a piece of white, sweet-smelling bread. (Puts them on the table)
—I brought flowers. (Scatters them)
—We brought branches of oak and birch with green leaves. Let's put them up around the walls. The room will look like cheerful green woods.
[They decorate the room with the branches, concealing the dark windows and covering the pinkish nakedness of the walls with leaves.
—I, brought a good cigar. It is a cheap one, but it's strong and fragrant and will give pleasant dreams.
—And I brought a ribbon, a red ribbon. It makes a very pretty fancy bow for the hair. It's a present my sweetheart gave me; but I have so many ribbons and she hasn't even one.
—What did you bring, grandpa? Did you bring anything?
—Nothing, nothing, except my cough. They don't want that, do they, neighbor?
—No more than they want my crutches. Hey, girls, who wants my crutches?
—Do you remember, neighbor?
—Do you remember, neighbor?
—Come, let's go to sleep, neighbor. It's late already. (They sigh and leave, one coughing, the other knocking the floor with his crutches)
—Come, come!
—May God give them happiness. They are such good neighbors.
—God grant that they may always be healthy and merry and always love each
