Recover’d somewhat. And he fondled me.
“I see, my child, you love this Haydn, yes.
Why, here you stand a woman when I thought
You only were my pet, my little girl.—
But do not cry: no, no; I honor you,
My little woman!—There, forgive me now;
Forgive my words. And when it comes, my child,
The absolution, then, we then shall see,
If your old father can be kind or not.”
With this he kiss’d me. And at that, I wept;