"Higher!—no, lower!—you get nothing right!...
Now let this sapphire sparkle on my brow.
You're pricking me, you careless thing! That's good!
I love you, Anna dear. How fair I am....
"I hope he'll be there, too—the one I've tried
To forget! no use! (Anna, my gown!) he too ...
(O fie, you wicked girl! my necklace, this?
These golden beads the Holy Father blessed?)
"He'll be there—Heavens! suppose he takes my hand—
I scarce can draw my breath for thinking of it!