Ilse.
Come as far as our house with me!
Moritz.
What for?——What for?——
Ilse.
To drink warm goat's milk! I will singe your hair and hang a little bell around your neck.——Then we have another kid with which you can play.
Moritz.
I must go back. I have yet the Sassanides, the Sermon on the Mount and the parallelepipedon on my thoughts.——Good-night, Ilse!
Ilse.
Sleep well!——Do you ever go to the wigwam where Melchi Gabor buried my tomahawk?——Brrr! until you are married I'll lie in the straw.