oh, I believe
And yet there is a part of Melchior that knows not all is lost- there is hope, hope evident in Thea's giggling and Hanschen's smirks and the dew drops that hover on the tip of every strand of morning grass. He watches Wendla sneakily hitch her dress up when her mother doesn't watch…pushing her stockings down to her knees, he catches a glimpse of that pale pink thigh, of lace unseen. Oh, how he would love to trail his fingers down her legs, so shapely when revealed as she curls up in a chair, legs bent at the knees, with her calves curving into thinner ankles and dirty black shoes. Melchior believes someday he might know the absolute ecstasy of everything around him that is hidden.
If only he could explain this utter wanting to Morit, though he would never understand. To Moritz, bliss was approval; happiness was passing under the nasty glares of teachers and his stern parents. All he wanted in this world, in this life, was to make the grade and earn his keep. Melchior loves him, but he is a pathetic child. He reminds Melchior of a faithful but blind dog, wanting so badly to be loved, not knowing his owners had moved away.