The mandolin twangs out, the doorway for a moment is all
glamorous; and they pass through. Illumined by the glimmer of
the lamp the Youth of THE WINE Hour is seen again. And slowly
to the chords of his mandolin he begins to sing:
"The windy hours through darkness fly
Canst hear them little heart?
New loves are born, and old loves die,
And kissing lips must part.
"The dusky bees of passing years
Canst see them, soul of mine—
From flower and flower supping tears,
And pale sweet honey wine?
[His voice grown strange and passionate]
"O flame that treads the marsh of time.
Flitting for ever low.
Where, through the black enchanted slime.
We, desperate, following go
Untimely fire, we bid thee stay!
Into dark air above.
The golden gipsy thins away—
So has it been with love!"
While he is singing, the moon grows pale, and dies. It falls dark, save for the glimmer of the lamp beneath which he stands. But as his song ends, the dawn breaks over the houses, the lamp goes out—THE WINE HORN becomes shadow. Then from the doorway of the Inn, in the shrill grey light SEELCHEN comes forth. She is pale, as if wan with living; her eyes like pitch against the powdery whiteness of her face.
SEELCHEN. My heart is old.
But as she speaks, from far away is heard a faint chiming of COWBELLS; and while she stands listening, LAMOND appears in the doorway of the Inn.
LAMOND. Little soul!
SEELCHEN. You! Always you!