Karl.
Don’t you like the idea? Leave it alone, then. You won’t see me for a long time again.
Clara (shuddering).
No.
Karl.
No! Do you know already that I’m going to sea? Do my thoughts crawl on my forehead for you to read them? Or has the old man been raving in his usual fashion and threatening to lock me out? Bah! That would be much the same as if the warder had said to me—“You can’t stay in prison any longer; I’ll throw you out where you’ll be free.”
Clara.
You don’t understand me.
Karl (sings).
“The good ship puffs its sails, oh,