Margarita laughed.
‘The thrush, and the lark, and the blackbird,
They taught me how to sing:
And O that the hawk would lend his eye,
And the eagle lend his wing.’
‘I will not hear these shameless songs,’ exclaimed Aunt Lisbeth.
‘For I would view the lands they view,
And be where they have been:
It is not enough to be singing
For ever in dells unseen!’
A voice was heard applauding her. ‘Good! right good! Carol again, Gretelchen! my birdie!’
Margarita turned, and beheld her father in the doorway. She tripped toward him, and heartily gave him their kiss of meeting. Gottlieb glanced at the helm of Siegfried.
‘Guessed the work was going well; you sing so lightsomely to-day, Grete! Very pretty! And that’s Drachenfels? Bones of the Virgins! what a bold fellow was Siegfried, and a lucky, to have the neatest lass in Deutschland in love with him. Well, we must marry her to Siegfried after all, I believe! Aha? or somebody as good as Siegfried. So chirrup on, my darling!’
‘Aunt Lisbeth does not approve of my songs,’ replied Margarita, untwisting some silver threads.
‘Do thy father’s command, girl!’ said Aunt Lisbeth.
‘And doing his command,
Should I do a thing of ill,
I’d rather die to his lovely face,
Than wanton at his will.’