Faust.  Sweet darling!

Margaret.  Let me once!

  [She plucks a china-aster and picks off the leaves one after another.]

Faust.  What’s that for?  A bouquet?

Margaret.  No, just for sport.

Faust.  How?

Margaret.  Go! you’ll laugh at me; away!
     [She picks and murmurs to herself.]

Faust.  What murmurest thou?

Margaret [half aloud].  He loves me—­loves me not.

Faust.  Sweet face! from heaven that look was caught!

Margaret [goes on].  Loves me—­not—­loves me—­not—­
     [picking off the last leaf with tender joy]
He loves me!

Faust.  Yes, my child!  And be this floral word
An oracle to thee.  He loves thee! 
Knowest thou all it mean?  He loves thee!
     [Clasping both her hands.]

Margaret.  What thrill is this!

Faust.  O, shudder not!  This look of mine. 
This pressure of the hand shall tell thee
What cannot be expressed: 
Give thyself up at once and feel a rapture,
An ecstasy never to end! 
Never!—­It’s end were nothing but blank despair. 
No, unending! unending!

     [MARGARET presses his hands, extricates herself, and runs away. 
      He stands a moment in thought, then follows her].

Martha [coming].  The night falls fast.

Mephistopheles.  Ay, and we must away.

Martha.  If it were not for one vexation,
I would insist upon your longer stay. 
Nobody seems to have no occupation,
No care nor labor,
Except to play the spy upon his neighbor;
And one becomes town-talk, do whatsoe’er they may. 
But where’s our pair of doves?

Mephistopheles.  Flown up the alley yonder.  Light summer-birds!

Martha.  He seems attached to her.

Mephistopheles.  No wonder.  And she to him.  So goes the world, they say.

      A SUMMER-HOUSE.

      MARGARET [darts in, hides behind the door, presses the tip of
      her finger to her lips, and peeps through the crack].

Margaret.  He comes!

      Enter FAUST.

Faust.  Ah rogue, how sly thou art! 
I’ve caught thee!
      [Kisses her.]

Margaret [embracing him and returning the kiss].  Dear good man!  I love thee from my heart!

      [MEPHISTOPHELES knocks.]

Faust [stamping].  Who’s there?

Mephistopheles.  A friend!

Faust.  A beast!

Mephistopheles.  Time flies, I don’t offend you?

Martha [entering].  Yes, sir, ’tis growing late.

Faust.  May I not now attend you?

Margaret.  Mother would—­Fare thee well!