Champagne
Gruna
Then let people have pity on poor orphans—not work them like mules for nothing. Let them have hearts like human beings and not squeeze out the poor like lemons!
Dvorah
And God, praised be He, what of Him?
Gruna (suddenly stiffening, screams out as if she wanted Heaven itself to hear her)
He should have provided, then, for my fatherless little ones!
Dvorah (screams)
Gruna, God—God will punish you!
Gruna (suddenly fearful)
No, no, He surely wouldn’t do that—not me—not my children. God is just! He will punish others—someone else…
Gruna
My little bird—my sweet, my little song-bird!
Hadas (bursts into the room lively, but a bit befuddled)
Tra-lala. (Seeing Dvorah.) Ah, Dvorah, the busybody, the gossip, the bath-woman—ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha!
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