here.
A boundless kindness in my heart upsprings,
I love the straw, I love the creeping things;
They also in my joy shall have a share.

FALK.
Yes, only tell me this, though--

LIND.
I have told it,--
My precious secret, and our three hearts hold it!

FALK.
But have you thought about the future?

LIND.
Thought?
I?--thought about the future? No, from this
Time forth I live but in the hour that is.
In home shall all my happiness be sought;
We hold Fate's reins, we drive her hither, thither,
And neither friend nor mother shall have right
To say unto my budding blossom: Wither!
For I am earnest and her eyes are bright,
And so it must unfold into the light!

FALK.
Yes, Fortune likes you, you will serve her turn!

LIND.
My spirits like wild music glow and burn;
I feel myself a Titan: though a foss
Opened before me--I would leap across!

FALK.
Your love, you mean to say, in simple prose,
Has made a reindeer of you.

LIND.
Well, suppose;
But in my wildest flight, I know the nest
In which my heart's dove longs to be at rest!

FALK.
Well then, to-morrow it may fly _con brio_,
You're off into the hills with the quartette.
I'll guarantee you against cold and wet--

LIND.
Pooh, the quartette may go and climb in _trio_,
The lowly dale has mountain air for me;
Here I've the immeasurable fjord, the flowers,
Here I have warbling birds and choral bowers,
And lady fortune's self,--for here is she!

FALK.
Ah, lady Fortune by our Northern water caught her!
[With a glance towards the house.
Hist--Svanhild--

LIND.
Well; I go,--disclose to none
The secret that we share alone with one.
'Twas good of you to listen; now enfold it
Deep in your heart,--warm, glowing, as I told it.

[He goes out in the background to the others. FALK
looks after him a moment, and paces up and down
in the garden, visibly striving to master his
agitation. Presently SVANHILD comes out with a
shawl on her arm, and is going towards the back.
FALK approaches and gazes at her fixedly.
SVANHILD stops.

SVANHILD [after a short pause].
You gaze at me so!

FALK [half to himself].
Yes, 'tis there--the same;
The shadow in her eyes' deep mirror sleeping,
The roguish elf about her lips a-peeping,
It is there.

SVANHILD.
What?