A pale blue bow—
In my desk it is lying
To this day, just so!”)
This was what Heine read, and falling on his friend’s neck in comical despair, cried:—“If you publish that I am lost!” declaring himself vanquished by this pretended take-off.
To the End
During the last days of his life, a friend visited him at Paris, and entered just as two nurses carried him to a fresh bed.
“How are you, Heinrich?” asked his friend.
“Very well,” replied Heine; “you see the women still carry me on their hands.”