For news of her. Well, this one shook her head,
And that one sighed; a third looked dubious,
Uncertain whether she should shake or sigh,
Then finally did both. I breathe again.
Meph. The maid is well—a little pale, perhaps.
But then, poor child—her lover at the wars!
’Twas hardly fair to leave her as you did,
With a mere cold “good-bye.”
Gott.Why, as for that,
I have no claim, alas! to rank as lover.