LAMOND. [Jealously] The music' of dull sleep! Has life, then, with me been sorrow?
SEELCHEN. I do not regret.
LAMOND. Come!
SEELCHEN. [Pointing-to her breast] The bird is tired with flying.
[Touching her lips] The flowers have no dew.
LAMOND. Would you leave me?
SEELCHEN. See!
There, in a streak of the dawn, against the plane tree is seen the Shepherd of THE COW HORN, standing wrapped in his mountain cloak.
LAMOND. What is it?
SEELCHEN. He!
LAMOND. There is nothing. [He holds her fast] I have shown you the marvels of my town—the gay, the bitter wonders. We have known life. If with you I may no longer live, then let us die! See! Here are sweet Deaths by Slumber and by Drowning!