’Tis very hard indeed, if one muſt not ſpeak ill of one’s neighbours, dead, nor alive.
Cottager.
Who knows whether he was the father of Agatha’s child? She never ſaid he was.
Wife.
Nobody but him—that I am ſure—I would lay a wager—no, no, huſband—you muſt not take his part—it was very wicked! Who knows what is now become of that poor creature? She has not been heard of this many a year. May be ſhe is ſtarving for hunger. Her father might have lived longer too, if that misfortune had not happened.
[Agatha faints.]
Cottager.
See here! Help! She is fainting—take hold!
Wife.
Oh, poor woman!
Cottager.
Let us take her into the next room.
Wife.
Oh poor woman! I am afraid ſhe will not live. Come, chear up, chear up. You are with thoſe who feel for you. [They lead her off.]
SCENE II. An apartment in the Caſtle.
A table ſpread for breakfaſt—Several ſervants in livery diſpenſing the equipage—Baron Wildenhaim enters, attended by a Gentleman in waiting.
Baron.
Has not Count Caſſel left his chamber yet?
Gentleman.
No, my lord, he has but now rung for his valet.
