Dorothea Waldegrave, tr. from [Vergib uns unsere Schuld].

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Page 186 - It seems to me that we have nothing more to say to each other ... for the present.
Page 107 - Her eyes were full of tears, and she could hardly command her voice. . . . What was she to sing? The plaintive song of the imprisoned King Enzio came into her head, and she sang — " Mit meinem Vater, dem Kaiser,
Page 253 - was all he could say, as he folded her in his arms.

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