Until that day! Then, as all the busy girls laughingly teased her for her idleness, and twitted her for being in love with a mere shadow instead of with the real, strong, young hunter Eric, who wanted to marry her, she grew impatient. To still their chatter, she cried out fretfully: "Oh, girls, cease your foolish songs and your spinning! I am tired of all the humming and buzzing. Do you want me to join you? Listen, and I'll sing the ballad of the Flying Dutchman. Then you'll know why his sad fate touches my heart." Senta began her singing. The girls stopped their wheels to listen, and as they listened, their eyes grew round with wonder. They, too, pitied the poor captain and his unhappy crew. But when Senta described these aimless wanderings that nothing could change except that maiden fair who would be willing to die for love, the girls interrupted her. "Oh!" cried they. "Where in all the world is there such a maiden?" "Here!" answered Senta, and she sang: "Angel above, oh! bring to me The pale man sailing o'er the sea!" Do you wonder that all the girls, even Marie, started up in alarm when they heard that strange prayer? No doubt they thought Senta had gone out of her mind. Loudly they called, until Eric the hunter came running into the room. He reasoned, he pleaded with Senta, but all in vain. She could think of nothing but the story of the man whose picture hung on the wall. Just when the excitement was greatest, a cry from without told of the approach of Daland's boat. There was no time for foolish thoughts, then. A meal must be prepared, the table set, the glasses filled! Away hurried the girls and old Marie. In a moment Daland was at the door. Who was that pale visitor, so strangely like the picture above his head, entering behind him? Senta stared from one to the other. She could scarcely greet her father. She knew at once who this stranger was, just as you know and as I know. But Daland knew not. He, proud and happy, thinking of that ship full of treasures, lost no time in telling Senta that this was the man he had chosen to be her husband on the morrow, if she were willing. Senta was quite willing, for had she not loved this stranger for a long, long time? As for the Flying Dutchman, he gazed into those trusting eyes, and was filled with a great joy and a greater hope. Often when tossed about on the cruel waves had he dreamed of a maiden just as fair, just as pure as this one who now stood before him. If she would but be constant, all would be well, thought he. And, as he gazed, he heard her sweet voice saying, "Whoever thou art, whatever thy fate, I will be thy love, I will be thy mate." IV The marriage feast was quickly prepared. The jolly sailor boys, the pretty peasant girls, all lent helping hands, and soon the merrymaking on board the gayly lighted ship began. Only on the black ship with the red sails was there darkness and silence.