It is true that I have stormed and taken a
greater number of such fair citadels than there are drops of water in
the ocean, or stars in the sky--why, I sleep on a mattress stuffed with
thousands of beautiful curls and tresses of every shade, light and dark,
golden and jet-black, which are among my most treasured trophies.
Juno herself has made overtures to me, but I turned a deaf ear to her
blandishments, finding her charms rather too ripe for my taste; I prefer
the first flush of youthful beauty; it is a pure and innocent maiden
that I would honour with my notice now, but she repulses me--that I
should live to say it!--she dares to repulse me. I cannot permit such
an impertinence on her part, and the fair Isabelle must humbly sue to me
for pardon, and herself bringing the golden keys of the citadel of her
heart, upon a salver of silver, offer them to me upon her bended knees,
with streaming eyes and dishevelled tresses, begging for grace and
favour in my sight. Go now, and summon the fortress to surrender--this
house contains the rebellious fair."
But doors and windows remain inexorably closed, and no notice is taken
of the valet's thundering knocks and mocking summons to surrender;
secure in the strength of their bolts and bars, the garrison, which
consists of Isabelle and her maid, vouchsafes no reply.
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