You can come back for these, for you’ll carry him to the gatehouse, that’s what you’ll do. ‘My papa he does not wish me to marry the man I choose, and thus he places me in the convent that the nuns may lock me up and I cannot escape. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. “I wish you and I had drunk that love potion,” he said.
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