Anka. Goodbye!
Jerman. Halt! (Sends them the last kiss.)
Anka. (Turns around.) Take down this ugly, plain top hat of yours. Do lower your black suit, farmer! Release the bible! Greetings! (Enters their house.)
Jerman. (Watches their movements.) Before you could've gained her, you've lost her . . . So to say – for me it is late evening, and the sun hasn't risen yet. (Slowly walks to the back door of the garden.)
Minka. Do you not tremble, do you not hope, grieving Romeo?
Jerman. (Surprised.) Why tremble and why hope? I am no poet!
Minka. How come you do not tremble, as today they will . . . So to say . . . Conduct their sentencing of the whole Slovenian nation?
Geni. Jerman is a smart-head. I as well prefer a sweet ration to this funky comedy. Those tricks are barely any excuse for drinking and that only.
Jerman. Who is being sentenced? And by whom?
Minka. Did you not think of the election?
Jerman. Ah, yes! Shall they elect only saints or only "gypsies", my cloak will be no less patched together and my footwear no more compact.
Minka. This very playfulness and mindlessness digs an early grave to the nation of ours!
Jerman. Do not babble! The Nation shall judge for itself; the bow-person won't and neither shall the priest do it for us! (Gallantly steps to the garden door, nearly bumping into Lojzka. In the meantime, Minka and Geni find themselves on a bench below the balcony.)
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