Then only did I find time to compose the lullaby. It is a weird yet tuneful little piece which took me but half an hour to write down.
When Mitzi heard it she was enraptured. She let herself fall in my arms and looked at me with loving eyes.
"Oh Patrick," she said, "you will write a masterpiece for me, won't you?"
I promised. Never had I felt so much sympathy between us.
"I will do my best, Mitzi," I replied, "for I love you, love you truly, you are my better self, you are my good angel."
She laughed. Yes, she laughed at my fervent words.
"How solemn you are, Patrick. How English. You declaim as if you wanted to appeal to my passions."
"Mitzi, I cannot help worshipping you. No woman can wish to be loved better than I love you."
I found my words quite nice and the right thing to say. But she went on laughing.
"I can make any man say that to me. But I doubt whether I can make any man compose a beautiful opera. Will you?"