CARL (sings).
A ship lies in the offing,
A-sporting with the winds.
Yes indeed, there is nothing to bind me to the bench here any longer! Mother is dead, there is no longer any one to stop eating fish after every storm, and that has been my wish from boyhood. Away! I shall not prosper here—at least not until I know for sure that luck no longer favors the brave fellow who stakes his life on the game, who throws back onto the table the copper coin that he has received from the great treasure, in order to see whether luck will pocket it or return it to him gilded!
CLARA.
And are you going away to leave your father all alone? He is sixty years old!
CARL.
Alone? Aren't you going to be left?