But the maiden came and gracefully bent o’er the father,
Kissing the while his hand, which he to draw back attempted. 
And she said:—­” I am sure that you will forgive the surprised one,
First for her tears of sorrow, and then for her tears of true rapture. 
O forgive the emotions by which they both have been prompted,
And let me fully enjoy the bliss that has now been vouchsafed me! 
Let the first vexation, which my confusion gave rise to,
Also be the last!  The loving service which lately
Was by the servant promised, shall now by the daughter be render’d.”

And the father, his tears concealing, straightway embraced her;
Lovingly came the mother in turn, and heartily kiss’d her,
Warmly shaking her hand; and silently wept they together. 
Then in a hasty manner, the good and sensible pastor
Seized the hand of the father, his wedding-ring off from his finger
Drawing (not easily though; so plump was the member that held it)
Then he took the mother’s ring, and betroth’d the two children,
Saying:—­“Once more may it be these golden hoops’ destination
Firmly to fasten a bond altogether resembling the old one! 
For this youth is deeply imbued with love for the maiden,
And the maiden confesses that she for the youth has a liking. 
Therefore, I now betroth you, and wish you all blessings hereafter,
With the parents’ consent, and with our friend here as a witness.”

And the neighbour bent forward, and added his own benediction;
But when the clergyman placed the gold ring on the hand of the maiden,
He with astonishment saw the one which already was on it,
And which Hermann before at the fountain had anxiously noticed. 
Whereupon he spoke in words at once friendly and jesting
“What!  You are twice engaging yourself?  I hope that the first one
May not appear at the altar, unkindly forbidding the banns there!”

But she said in reply:—­“O let me devote but one moment
To this mournful remembrance!  For well did the good youth deserve it,
Who, when departing, presented the ring, but never return’d home. 
All was by him foreseen, when freedom’s love of a sudden,
And a desire to play his part in the new-found Existence,
Drove him to go to Paris, where prison and death were his portion. 
‘Farewell,’ said he, ’I go; for all things on earth are in motion
At this moment, and all things appear in a state of disunion. 
Fundamental laws in the steadiest countries are loosen’d,
And possessions are parted from those who used to possess them,
Friends are parted from friends, and love is parted from love too. 
I now leave you here, and whether I ever shall see you
Here again,—­who can tell?  Perchance these words will our last be. 
Man is a stranger here upon earth, the proverb informs us;
Every person has now become more a stranger than ever. 
Ours the soil is no longer; our treasures are fast