LAMOND. I have new wonders.
SEELCHEN. [Mournfully] No.
LAMOND. I swear it! You have not tired of me, that am never the same? It cannot be.
SEELCHEN. Listen!
The chime of THE COWBELLS is heard again.
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?