“Ah, you, with your old engagement,” said Daniel, “I don’t give a hang where you are going; I am going along.”
“No, you’re not, Daniel,” cried Eleanore. And when Daniel looked at her in astonishment, she blushed and continued: “You are not going with him; he is going to see some women!”
The three young men laughed, and in her confusion Eleanore laughed too.
“How tragic you are, little Eleanore,” said Daniel in a tone of unusual flippancy, “what do you want me to do? Do you think that Wurzelmann and I are just alike when it comes to an evening’s amusement? Do you think the earth claims me as soon as I see a tear?”
“Let him go,” whispered Benda to the girl, “he is right. Don’t bring an artificial light into this darkness; it serves his purpose; let him do with it as he pleases.”
Eleanore looked at Benda with wide-opened eyes. “Darkness? What do you mean? The fire then was merely a will-o’-the-wisp,” she said, her eyes shining with pride, “I see him full of light.” Daniel had heard what she said. “Really, Eleanore?” he asked with greedy curiosity.
She nodded: “Really, Daniel.”
“For that you can have anything you want from me.”
“Well then I beg you and Benda to come over to our house. Father will be delighted to see you, and we will have something to eat.”
“Fine. That sounds good to me. Addio, Wurzelmann, and remember me to the girls. You are coming along, aren’t you, Friedrich?”