MARY.

You shall remain, father.  And if you go, I go with you.

FORESTER.

The way I have to go one goes alone.  Go, Mary.

SOPHY.

Go to bed, Mary.

FORESTER.

Good-night.  And now it’s enough.  You know I cannot bear lamentations.

MARY.

You are not going without me, father.  You cannot live without me, father.  Father, I now feel that in my heart.

FORESTER (protesting).

Yes, I can.  What doesn’t such a greenhorn feel!

MARY.

You turn away, father, so that I should not see you crying.  Father, pretend you are ferocious, as much as you like—­

FORESTER (wants to disengage himself).

Silly thing there—­

MARY.

I am going with you.  You insist upon your right, and I upon mine, and that is, that I must not leave you.  Father, I feel now for the first time that I love no one in the world as much as you.  Tomorrow we go together—­if you must go.  I am going to put on William’s clothes.  There are still green forests in the world.  And surely you shall not hear me complaining.  Don’t be afraid of that.  Why, I can cry during the nights, when you don’t see it.  But then you will see it by my eyes in the daytime.  Why, I must not cry at all!  I will only laugh and skip along before you and sing—­the beautiful hunting songs.—­You see, father, this is the last tear for Robert!  And it is already dried, do you see?  I am sure that we shall still find happiness in this world—­if you must go, father.  And if it is not to be, we will thank God and pray, if He only keeps us honest.  Then we will think:  It is asking too much, if we also wish to be happy.  Have I not you?  Have not you your good conscience and your Mary?  What more do we need?

[Hanging on his neck.]

FORESTER (who has been warding her off constantly, almost furious, because he can scarcely control his emotion).

Indeed, indeed!  Stupid thing!

[More calmly.]

And a “table—­spread—­thyself,” a “gold—­mule—­stretch-thyself,” and the fairy-story is complete.  Now go to bed, Mary.

[Roughly.]

Do you hear?

SOPHY.

Come, Mary.

MARY (at the door of her room she looks around, and runs again to him; embracing him, beside herself).

Good-night, good-night!

[She hurries to her room; SOPHY follows.]

FORESTER (looking after her).

My girl, my poor girl!  It must not be here that I make an end of myself!—­Confound it.  Shame on you, old—­

SCENE VI

WEILER; The FORESTER.

WEILER (greets him with a silent nod; he is very much excited; hangs the rifle on the rack and busies himself with the hunting utensils).