I am now at the workbench myself.
Why does no religion place the command: "Thou shalt work" above all others?
They say that the wound sucked by living lips heals quickly. O thou who art called queen! I would like to suck up the blood that trickles from thy heart!
Did I destroy the letter to the queen, or did it reach her?
I started with fright, when the grandmother asked me why I had pained the queen by informing her that I meant to take my life.
Why? I know not why. All I know is that I could not help it; it was the last, the unavoidable tribute I owed to truthfulness.