“Let us also go; it is getting cold,” say the other two, rising. “Good night, Mariet.”
“Good night.”
“Why are you alone, Mariet? Why are you alone, Mariet, in the daytime and at night, on week days and on merry holidays? Do you love to think of your betrothed?”
“Yes, I do. I love to think of Philipp.”
The girl laughs.
“But you don’t want to see him. When he goes out to sea, you look at the sea for hours; when he comes back—you are not there. Where are you hiding yourself?”
“I love to think of Philipp.”
“Like a blind man he gropes among the houses, forever calling: ‘Mariet! Mariet! Have you not seen Mariet?’”
They go off laughing and repeating:
“Good night, Mariet. ‘Have you not seen Mariet! Mariet!’”