They have flown up there. The wanton butterflies!
And she to him. 'Tis of the world the way!
(Margaret runs in, hides behind the door, holds the tip of her finger to her lip,
and peeps through the crevice.)
Ah, little rogue, so thou Think'st to provoke me! I have caught thee now!
(embracing him, and returning the kiss)
Dearest of men! I love thee from my heart!
Oh no - my mother would - adieu, adieu!