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D'RI AND I
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age to take command of me. I warn you, Thérèse, if I think he knows—when I see him—I shall be cruel to him; I shall make him hate me. So you see I will not be cheated of my wooing, and I know you would not endanger my life's happiness. I have written a little song—for him. Well, some day I shall sing it to him, and will he not be glad to know I could do it? Here are the first lines to give you the idea:—

My emperor! my emperor!
Thy face is fair to see;
Thy house is old, thy heart is gold,
Oh, take command of me!

O emperor! my emperor!
"Thy sceptre is of God;
Through all my days I'll sing thy praise,
And tremble at thy nod.

But, dear Thérèse, you ought to hear the music; I have quite surprised myself. Indeed, love is a grand thing; it has made me nobler and stronger. They really say I am not selfish any more. But I am weary of waiting here, and so eager to get home. You are in love, and you have been through this counting of the hours. We are very comfortable here, and they let us go and come as we like inside the high walls.