I left the house with the idea of just speaking to you and turning back again.
Hans.
I waited for you.——Virtue is not a bad garment, but it requires an imposing figure.
Ernest.
It fits us loosely as yet.——I should not have been content if I had not met you.——I love you, Hans, as I have never loved a soul——
Hans.
Let us not be sad.——If we recall this in thirty years, perhaps we shall make fun of it.——And yet everything is so beautiful. The mountains glow; the grapes hang before our mouths and the evening breeze caresses the rocks like a playful flatterer.——
SCENE SEVENTH.
A clear November night. The dry foliage of the bushes and trees rustles. Torn clouds chase each other beneath the moon——Melchior clambers over the churchyard wall.
Melchior.