Thus she spoke, and towards the door she hastily turn’d her,
Holding under her arm the bundle she brought when arriving. 
But the mother seized by both of her arms the fair maiden,
Clasping her round the body, and cried with surprise and amazement
“Say, what signifies this?  These fruitless tears, what denote they? 
No, I’ll not leave you alone!  You’re surely my dear son’s betroth’d one!”
But the father stood still, and show’d a great deal of reluctance,
Stared at the weeping girl, and peevishly spoke then as follows
“This, then, is all the indulgence my friends are willing to give me,
That at the close of the day the most unpleasant thing happens! 
For there is nothing I hate so much as the tears of a woman,
And their passionate cries, set up with such heat and excitement,
Which a little plain sense would show to be utterly needless. 
Truly, I find the sight of these whimsical doings a nuisance. 
Matters must shift for themselves; as for me, I think it is bed-time.” 
So he quickly turn’d round, and hasten’d to go to the chamber
Where the marriage-bed stood, in which he slept for the most part. 
But his son held him back, and spoke in words of entreaty
“Father, don’t go in a hurry, and be not amniote with the maiden! 
I alone have to bear the blame of all this confusion,
Which our friend has increased by his unexpected dissembling. 
Speak then, honour’d Sir! for to you the affair I confided;
Heap not up pain and annoyance, but rather complete the whole matter;
For I surely in future should not respect you so highly,
If you play practical jokes, instead of displaying true wisdom.”

Thereupon the worthy pastor smilingly answer’d
“What kind of wisdom could have extracted the charming confession
Of this good maiden, and so have reveal’d all her character to us? 
Is not your care converted at once to pleasure and rapture? 
Speak out, then, for yourself!  Why need explanations from others
Hermann then stepped forward, and gently address’d her as follows
“Do not repent of your tears, nor yet of your passing affliction;
For they perfect my happiness; yours too, I fain would consider. 
I came not to the fountain, to hire so noble a maiden
As a servant, I came to seek to win you affections. 
But, alas! my timid gaze had not strength to discover
Your heart’s leanings; it saw in your eye but a friendly expression,
When you greeted it out of the tranquil fountain’s bright mirror. 
Merely to bring you home, made half of my happiness certain
But you now make it complete!  May every blessing be yours, then!”
Then the maiden look’d on the youth with heartfelt emotion,
And avoided not kiss or embrace, the summit of rapture,
When they also are to the loving the long-wish’d-for pledges
Of approaching bliss in a life which now seems to them endless. 
Then the pastor told the others the whole of the story;