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and it became clear to them both what had
been done against them and with them; and
she showed him a withered rose which she kept
in her bosom, and she bent towards him and
gave him a kiss, the last – their eternal
leave-taking – and then they separated. He died
shortly afterwards, but Catherine was stronger,
yet not strong enough for her heart’s deep
sorrow. Here, in the bed-chamber, in uneasy
dreams, says the story, she betrayed in sleep the
constant thought of her heart, her youth’s love,
to the King, saying: "Gustavus I love dearly;
but the rose – I shall never forget."
From a secret door we walk out on to the
open rampart, where the sheep now graze; the
cattle are driven into one of the ruined towers.
We see the palace-yard, and look from it up to a
window. Come, thou birch-wood’s thrush, and
warble thy lays; sing, whilst we recal the
bitterness of love in the rude – the chivalrous
ages.
Under that window there stood, one cold
winter’s night, wrapped in his white cloak, the
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