_[The Old Women titter. The cries grow louder and die away. Silence._
--What's the matter with her? Maybe she has died already.
--No. If she had, we'd hear crying, and the doctor would come running and begin to talk nonsense. They'd bring her husband out in a faint, and we'd have to work over him. No, she's not dead.
--He won't tell. He never tells anything.
--He orders us about as he pleases, gets us out of bed, and makes us watch; and then it turns out that our coming wasn't even needed.
--We came of our own accord, didn't we? We must tell the truth. There, she's screaming again.
--Haven't you had as much of it as you want?
--Listen to her. What fearful pain she must be suffering. Have you any idea of what the pain is like? It's as if your insides were being torn to pieces.
--It's just as if she were not herself. I don't recognize our friend's voice. It's naturally so soft and gentle.
--Her screaming is more like the roar of a wild beast.
--You feel the boundless black forest and hopelessness and terror.
--You feel solitude and grief. There are other people with her. Why can't you hear other voices beside that savage, dismal wail?
--They are talking, but you can't hear them. Have you ever noticed how solitary man's cries are? Any number of men will talk, and you won't hear them. But let one human being cry, and it seems as if the others were all silent, listening.
--I once heard a man scream who had been run over by a Carriage and had his leg crushed. The street was full of people. Yet he seemed to be the only one there.
--No, it's more terrible. You feel death in it.
--You had a feeling of death then, too. In fact, the man did die.
--Don't dispute. It's all the same to you.
--How strange man's crying is! When you yourself are ill and cry, you don't notice how strange it is. I can't imagine the mouth that produces such sounds. Can it be a woman's mouth? I can't imagine it.
--As if the sound issued from some depth. Now it's like the cry of someone drowning. Listen, she's choking.
--A heavy person is sitting on her chest.
--At last she has quieted down. You get tired of crying. It's monotonous and not beautiful.
--You're looking for beauty here too, are you?
--Whoever heard Him laugh? You are simply repeating hearsay. So many lies are told about Him.