Thanks for your song of happiness and spring—
From out my inmost heart it seemed to spring.
[Lifts his glass and exchanges a glance, unobserved, with Anna.
Here’s to the blossom in its fragrant pride!
What reck we of the fruit of autumn-tide?
[Empties his glass.
Falk [looks at him with surprise and emotion, but assumes a light tone].
Behold, fair ladies! though you scorn me quite,
Here I have made an easy proselyte.
His hymn-book yesterday was all he cared for—