And she began, and chided me, and said:
“How dared you talk! and what were Haydn’s words?—
He lay so ill, with fever high, so high.
He could but rave. How dared you lead him on?
He worse may grow,—Who knows, Pauline?—may die;
And all the cause may be your nursing him!—
When will you learn to learn what you know not?”
XIX.
And then she told me such a long, sad tale,
Of how great store she placed upon his life;