t are you looking at?

OLD MAN. The river; it's rising. And I'm asking myself, as I've done for
seventy years--when I shall reach the sea.

MOTHER. You're sad to-night, Father.

OLD MAN.... et introibo ad altare Dei: ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem
meam. Yes. I do feel sad.... Deus, Deus meus: quare tristis es anima
mea, et quare conturbas me.

MOTHER. Spera in Deo....

(The Maid comes in, and signs to the MOTHER, who goes over to her. They
whisper together and the maid goes out again.)

OLD MAN. I heard what you said. O God! Must I bear that too!

MOTHER. You needn't see them. You can go up to your room.

OLD MAN. No. It shall be a penance. But why come like this: as
vagabonds?

MOTHER. Perhaps they lost their way and have had much to endure.

OLD MAN. But to bring her husband! Is she lost to shame?

MOTHER. You know Ingeborg's queer nature. She thinks all she does is
fitting, if not right. Have you ever seen her ashamed, or suffer from a
rebuff? I never have. Yet she's not without shame; on the contrary. And
everything she does, however questionable, seems natural when she does
it.

OLD MAN. I've always wondered why one could never be angry with her. She
doesn't feel herself responsible, or think an insult's directed at her.
She seems impersonal; or rather two persons, one who does nothing but
ill whilst the other gives absolution.... But this man! There's no one
I've hated from afar so much as he. He sees evil everywhere; and of no
one have I heard so much ill.

MOTHER. That's true. But it may be Ingeborg's found some mission in this
man's life; and he in hers. Perhaps they're meant to torture each other
into atonement.

OLD MAN. Perhaps. But I'll have nothing to do with at seems to me
shameful. This man, under my roof! Yet I must accept it, like everything
else. For I've deserved no less.

MOTHER. Very well then. (The LADY and the STRANGER come in.) You're
welcome.

LADY. Thank you, Mother. (She looks over to the OLD MAN, who rises and
looks at the STRANGER.) Peace, Grandfather. This is my husband. Give him
your hand.

OLD MAN. First let me look at him. (He goes to the STRANGER, puts his
hands on his shoulders and looks him in the eyes.) What motives brought
you here?

STRANGER (simply). None, but to keep my wife company, at her earnest
desire.

OLD MAN. If that's true, you're welcome! I've a long and stormy life
behind me, and at last I've found a certain peace in solitude. I beg you
no