The Dramatic Works of Gerhart Hauptmann
Chapter 100 : What? Who ist you say? ADELAIDE I think the voice was Motess voice. MRS. WOLFF [_Vehem

What? Who is't you say?

ADELAIDE

I think the voice was Motes's voice.

MRS. WOLFF

[_Vehemently._] Go down! Ran! Tell papa to come up! That fool Motes can stay on the other side. He don't need to come sniffin' around in the house here.

_ADELAIDE exits. MRS. WOLFF hides and clears away everything that could in any degree suggest the episode of the stag. She covers the sauce-pan with an ap.r.o.n. ADELAIDE comes back._

ADELAIDE

Mama, I got down there too late. I hear 'em talkin' a'ready.

MRS. WOLFF

Well, who is it then?

ADELAIDE

I've been tellin' you: Motes.

_MR. and MRS. MOTES appear in turn in the doorway. Both are of medium height. She is an alert young woman of about thirty, modestly and neatly dressed. He wears a green forester's overcoat; his face is healthy but insignificant; his left eye is concealed by a black bandage._

MRS. MOTES

[_Calls in._] We nearly got our noses frozen, Mrs. Wolff.

MRS. WOLFF

Why do you go walkin' at night. You got time enough when it's bright day.

MOTES

It's nice and warm here.--Who's that who has time by day?

MRS. WOLFF

Why, you!

MOTES

I suppose you think I live on my fortune.

MRS. WOLFF

I don't know; I ain't sayin' what you live on.

MRS. MOTES

Heavens, you needn't be so cross. We simply wanted to ask about our bill.

MRS. WOLFF

You've asked about that a good deal more'n once.

MRS. MOTES

Very well. So we're asking again. Anything wrong with that? We have to pay sometime, you know?

MRS. WOLFF

[_Astonished._] You wants to pay?

MRS. MOTES

Of course, we do. Naturally.

MOTES

You act as if you were quite overwhelmed. Did you think we'd run off without paying?

MRS. WOLFF

I ain't given to thinkin' such things. If you want to be so good then.

Here, we can arrange right now. The amount is eleven s.h.i.+llin's, six pence.

MRS. MOTES

Oh, yes. Mrs. Wolff. We're going to get money. The people around here will open their eyes wide.

MOTES

There's a smell of roasted hare here.

MRS. WOLFF

Burned hair! That'd be more likely.

MOTES

Let's take a look and see.

[_He is about to take the cover from the sauce-pan._

MRS. WOLFF