Ah, my lamb, I have done little for you, but one thing I did unceasingly: I prayed for you, poor boy, morning and night; have you noticed, have you felt it ?" He drew her to his heart again, but she released herself from his embrace, saying: "To-morrow, Ulrich; Zorrillo...." "Zorrillo, always Zorrillo," he repeated, his blood boiling angrily.
"You are mine and, if you love me, you will leave him." "I cannot, Ulrich, it will not do.

He is kind, you will yet be friends." "We, we?
On the day of judgment, nay, not even then! Are you more firmly bound to yon smooth fellow, than to my honest father?
There stands something in the darkness, it is good steel, and if needful will cut the tie asunder." "Ulrich, Ulrich!" wailed Flora, raising her hands beseechingly.

"Not that, not that; it must not be.

He is kind and sensible, and loves me fondly.

Oh, Heaven! Oh, Ulrich! The mother has glided to her son at night, as if she were following forbidden paths.