"'Tis strange," she murmured, as though speaking to herself, "strange that the poor Flying Dutchman is doomed to sail on forever, because he can find no one who will love him till death! Are we maidens, then, all so fickle and heartless?"
"No, we are not heartless, at anyrate!" laughed one of the girls. "But who wants to wed the captain of a Phantom Ship that comes to port only once in seven years?"
"And who will outlive you, and marry someone else, a hundred years from now?" chimed in another.
"No, no!" said Senta; "that would be because you did not love him!"
"But who could love him—a ghost like that? Ugh!" said a third.
"I could!" exclaimed Senta, her fine eyes flashing. "If I knew that I could save him, I would devote myself to him gladly!"
"Oh, Senta! What are you saying!" cried the girls in a chorus.
"You forget Erik!" said one.
Erik was a young hunter who lived in the mountains, and who was devoted in his attentions to Senta. She had always liked him, having grown up with him, but she had not given him all her love.
"No, I do not forget Erik," she said stoutly, "but he is not the Flying Dutchman."