Anxiously Hermann turned and signed to his ally the pastor
That he should rush to the rescue and straightway dispel the delusion. 
Then stepped the wise man hastily forward and looked on the maiden’s
Tearful eyes, her silent pain and repressed indignation,
And in his heart was impelled not at once to clear up the confusion,
Rather to put to the test the girl’s disquieted spirit. 
Therefore he unto her said in language intended to try her: 
“Surely, thou foreign-born maiden, thou didst not maturely consider,
When thou too rashly decidedst to enter the service of strangers,
All that is meant by the placing thyself ’neath the rule of a master;
For by our hand to a bargain the fate of the year is determined,
And but a single ‘yea’ compels to much patient endurance. 
Not the worst part of the service the wearisome steps to be taken,
Neither the bitter sweat of a labor that presses unceasing;
Since the industrious freeman must toil as well as the servant. 
But ’tis to bear with the master’s caprice when he censures unjustly,
Or when, at variance with self, he orders now this, now the other;
Bear with the petulance, too, of the mistress, easily angered,
And with the rude, overbearing ways of unmannerly children. 
All this is hard to endure, and yet to go on with thy duties
Quickly, without delay, nor thyself grow sullen and stubborn. 
Yet thou appearest ill fitted for this, since already so deeply
Stung by the father’s jests:  whereas there is nothing more common
Than for a girl to be teased on account of a youth she may fancy.”

Thus he spoke.  The maiden had felt the full force of his language,
And she restrained her no more; but with passionate outburst her feelings
Made themselves way; a sob broke forth from her now heaving bosom,
And, while the scalding tears poured down, she straightway made answer: 
“Ah, that rational man who thinks to advise us in sorrow,
Knows not how little of power his cold words have in relieving
Ever a heart from that woe which a sovereign fate has inflicted. 
Ye are prosperous and glad; how then should a pleasantry wound you? 
Yet but the lightest touch is a source of pain to the sick man. 
Nay, concealment itself, if successful, had profited nothing. 
Better show now what had later increased to a bitterer anguish,
And to an inward consuming despair might perhaps have reduced me. 
Let me go back! for here in this house I can tarry no longer. 
I will away, and wander in search of my hapless companions,
Whom I forsook in their need; for myself alone choosing the better. 
This is my firm resolve, and I therefore may make a confession
Which might for years perhaps have else lain hid in my bosom. 
Deeply indeed was I hurt by the father’s words of derision;
Not that I’m sensitive, proud beyond what is fitting a servant;
But that my heart in truth had felt itself stirred