And sorrow, saved alone from death,
Inscribes above the mighty bier.
Vanity, all is vanity.
Yes, Yes.

BERTHA [Comes in with a coffee-pot and some embroidery. She speaks
in a low voice]. Margret, may I sit with you? It is so frightfully
lonely up there.

NURSE. For goodness sake, are you still up, Bertha?

BERTHA. You see I want to finish Father's Christmas present. And
here's something that you'll like.

NURSE. But bless my soul, this won't do. You must be up in the
morning, and it's after midnight now.

BERTHA. What does it matter? I don't dare sit up there alone. I
believe the spirits are at work.

NURSE. You see, just what I've said. Mark my words, this house was
not built on a lucky spot. What did you hear?

BERTHA. Think of it, I heard some one singing up in the attic!

NURSE. In the attic? At this hour?

BERTHA. Yes, it was such it sorrowful, melancholy song! I never
heard anything like it. It sounded as if it came from the
store-room, where the cradle stands, you know, to the left-- -- --