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作者: Adam Mickiewicz

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"O woman beyond my comprehension!" said the Count, "formerly in
thy feelings thou wast poetic; but now thou seemest altogether
prosaic. What are your marriages except chains that bind only the
hands and not the spirit? Believe me, there are proffers of love
even without an avowal of it, and there are duties even without
an engagement! Two burning hearts at the two ends of the earth
converse together like stars with trembling beams. Who knows?
Perhaps for this very reason the earth so aspires towards the
sun, and is thus ever dear to the moon-that they gaze upon each
other eternally, and run towards each other by the shortest path,
but can never draw near to each other!"
"Enough of that," she interrupted; "by the grace of God I am no
planet, Count! Enough, Count, I am a woman. I know what's coming;
make an end to all this chatter. Now I warn you; if you utter one
word to break off my marriage, then, as God is in Heaven, I will
jump at you with these nails and--"

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