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A STORY OF BOHEMIAN LOVE
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one. With what delight she will see the punishment executed!

But no, impossible for any one to scorn Maria Felicia! The harper did not hear distinctly; he is mistaken. For such offense imprisonment would be a light punishment. Such a man would deserve to be put to death; yes; put to death. A vision of blood floated before the harper’s eyes. Oh, you first Felsenburk, the harper knows in this moment how you felt when the lutanist rejected you; how your head pulsed; how you saw blood, only blood; how everything noble within you suddenly died of that black venomous anger; how you had ears for nothing but for those thousand hissing voices in your head, your heart, and your every vein. Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance! Let those who have insulted me suffer! The harper sees how that terrible ruthlessness came to you; why you longed to be a judge, to pronounce the sentence of death. The harper sees the jailer and his terrible instruments, the gallows, the block; he sees the pool of blood; he sees a