Par. How sayest thou?
(Looking off.) Oh, what a lovely red ! Go, pluck me some.
Ing. (Starting at the suggestion.) I go for thee?
the master serve the slave!
And yet, why not ? I'll go — the poor child's tired.
Par. Dost thou hesitate?
Ing. No, thou shalt have the flowers
As fresh and dewy as the bush affords.[He goes off, r.
Par. (Holding out the wreath.)
I never yet succeeded half so well.
It will be charming! Charming? and for whom?
Here among savages 1 no mother here
Looks smiling on it—I am alone, forsaken!
But no, I'll weep no more! No, none shall say I fear.
Re-enter Ingomar, with a bunch of flowers, and slowly advancing towards Parthenia.
Ing. (Aside.) The little Folko, when in his play he wanted
Flowers or fruit, would so cry "Bring them to me;
Quick! I will have them—these I will have or none;"
Till somehow he compelled me to obey him,
And she, with the same spirit, the same fire—
Yes, there is much of the bright child in her.
Well, she shall be a little brother to me!
There are the flowers. [He hands her the flowers.
Par. Thanks, thanks ! Oh, thou hast broken them
Too short off in the stem!
Ing. Shall I go and get thee more?
Par. No : these will do.
Ing. Tell me now about your home — I will sit here,
Near thee.
Par. Not there: thou art crushing all the flowers.
Ing. (Seating himself at her feet.)
Well, well ; I will sit here, then. And now tell me,
What is your name?
Par. Parthenia.
Ing. Parthenia!
A pretty name! and now, Parthenia, tell me
How that which you call love grows in the soul;
And what love is: 'tis strange, but in that word
There's something seems like yonder ocean — fathomless.
Par. How shall I say? Love comes, my mother says,
