virgins who preferred prison and torture, yea, even death by their own hand, rather than endure a brigand's passionate embrace. These are tales for the nursery, not for my lady's bower, where the birds are impatient for flight. The more rudely I carried off Marie, the more intense grew her love. When she saw my ship nearing the coast she pretended to flee. It was so much more wonderful to be taken on board by force than, docile and willing, to trip up the gangway.
XLIXThe torches are lit, I am expecting Marie.
I am leaning against the wall nearest the staircase; there I can hear the instant her foot touches the first step. My thoughts grow so gentle while I thus wait for Marie, whose little foot in another moment or two will be on my stairs. How many times I have sat like this, listening for the first sound of Marie's arrival, and yet my heart is beating as passionately as of old.
My sweet little girl! Ah, if you knew how I am longing for you! But you don't know it, because you always see me so self-controlled. It never dawns on you that in lonely hours your lover knows too well that vague terror which makes the heart tremble.
You dearest of all dear ones, I am a vain and obstinate fool, that I don't draw you close into my arms, lay your hand on my heart and say, 'Do you feel how restless it is here? Yes, your lover, who pretends to be so sure of you, is in fact so