What murmurest thou?
MARGARET (half aloud)
He loves me—loves me not.
FAUST
Thou sweet, angelic soul!
MARGARET (continues)
Loves me—not—loves me—not—
(plucking the last leaf, she cries with frank delight:)
He loves me!
FAUST
Yes, child! and let this blossom-word
For thee be speech divine! He loves thee!
Ah, know’st thou what it means? He loves thee!