But stay!” she added, “I will go my way,
And you go yours. Who cares what either does?”
XXXII.
“Doretta, nay; but stop,” I cried again,
“Put by the knife!—and if you will, then I—
Then I and Haydn will not”—
“You?” she laugh’d,
“And Haydn?—Humph!—Who cares what you may do?—
But ah—if planning thus to vent your thought,
Could I have chosen, eh, a shrewder way?—