His righteous wrath was awful to behold. I was so frightened that I felt
quite pale. With those wiles of the serpent which every noble woman
finds herself forced to employ at times I endeavored to pacify him.
"Of course I did not really believe he was You," I said tremulously. "He
was your inferior in every respect. His waistcoat was not nearly so
beautiful as yours. His eyes were not so soul compelling. His legs were
not nearly so elegant and slender. And there was an expression about his
beak which I distrusted from the first. You HEARD me tell him he was an
Impostor."
He began to listen--he became calmer--he relented. He kindly ate a
crumb out of my hand.
We began mutually to understand the infamy of the situation. The
Impostor had been secretly watching us. He had envied us our happiness.
Into his degenerate mind had stolen the darkling and criminal thought
that he--Audacious Scoundrel--might impose upon me by pretending he was
not merely "a robin" but "The Robin"--Tweetie himself and that he might
supplant him in my affections. But he had been confounded and cast into
outer darkness and again we were One.
I will not attempt to deceive. He was jealous beyond bounds. It was
necessary for me to be most discreet in my demeanor towards the head
gardener with whom I was obliged to consult frequently.
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