[She continues pulling the petals, and murmuring to herself.
Faust.
What are you murmuring now, so sweetly low?
Margaret. [half loud]
He loves me, yes!—he loves me, no!
Faust.
Thou sweet angelic face!
Margaret. [murmuring as before]
He loves me, yes!—he loves me, no!
[Pulling out the last petal with manifest delight.]
He loves me, yes!
Faust.
Yes, child! the fair flower-star hath answered Yes!
In this the judgment of the gods approves thee;
He loves thee! know’st thou what it means?—He loves thee!
[He seizes her by both hands.
Margaret.
I scarce can speak for joy!
Faust.
Fear thee not, love! But let this look proclaim,
This pressure of my hand declare
What words can never name:
To yield us to an ecstacy of joy,
And feel this tranceful bliss must be
Eternal! yes! its end would be despair!
It hath no end! no end for thee and me!
[Margaret presses his hands, makes herself free, and runs away. He stands still for a moment thoughtfully, then follows her.
Martha. [coming up]
’Tis getting late.
Mephistopheles.
Yes, and we must away.
Martha.
I fain would have you stay;
But ’tis an evil neighborhood,
Where idle gossips find their only good,
Their pleasure and their business too,
In spying out all that their neighbors do.
And thus, the whole town in a moment knows
The veriest trifle. But where is our young pair?
Mephistopheles.
