Good dog. - Vogel!
My little dove.
Are we expecting guests?
Indeed we are. Even a famous poet.
Wonderful. What does he write?
He has written about a marquise
who, while unconscious, is impregnated by an unknown man
and then discovers that the unknown man
is the man she thought she was in love with.
And consequently she can no longer love him.
That sounds rather strange. Incidents of that kind rarely happen.
Yet I find the fate of the marquise moving.
As if I were her.
Well then, he must be a truly outstanding poet,
if his writings give you such a curious idea!
A violet in the meadow stood
With humble brow, demure and good
It was the sweetest violet
There came along a shepherdess
With youthful step and happiness
Who sang Who sang along the way
This song
Oh! thought the violet
How I pine for nature's beauty to be mine
If only for a moment
For then my love might notice me
And on her bosom fasten me
Oh, I wish
Oh, I wish if only for a moment long
But, cruel fate!
The maiden came
Without a glance or care for it
She trampled down the violet
It sank
And died
But happily
And so I die then let me die for her
For her
Beneath her darling feet
Poor little violet
It was the sweetest violet
Simply to die for!
She is an admirer of your marquise. - Really?
Oh, I wouldn't call it admiration.
Which woman has experienced such a fate?
That is what makes the story so appealing.
To read something one would never wish to experience,
and yet, bizarrely, one yearns to imagine it all the same.
I try to describe what engenders fear,
but perhaps also desire.
Desire?
I would say one has to accept one's fate.
No matter how cruel it may be. - But you said it yourself.
The marquise is appealing.
Yes.
That may often be the case.
You say one thing but also feel another.
Yes, this may often be the case.
You think you want to live, but in fact you want to die.
The poor thing.
Who?
Frau von Krahl.
I feel sorry for her.
Why is that?
It must be terrible to be such a famous singer,
being exposed to the opinion of the public.
What if she made a mistake?
It would be so embarrassing.
But everybody admires her.
Yes, but if she makes a mistake, she will be despised.
People can be so cruel.
But she is famous, respected.
She has achieved a position. All by herself.
Nevertheless...
I may have achieved nothing in life except to take care of you and Pauline.
But that's enough for me. That's just the way I am.
And how did you find our poet?
Oh, him.
He seems to have a rather melancholic disposition.
He depresses me.
But he appears to like you.
Certainly not.
My soul is in such a precarious state
that when I stick my nose out of the window
the daylight pains me with its constant shimmering.
Some people would consider this an illness or excess tension.
But not you.
You have the ability to see the world from a perspective other than your own.
I have become so sensitive
that even the smallest of onslaughts to which my feelings are exposed
causes me the greatest of suffering.
You are indeed melancholic today.
Perhaps it is your gall that troubles your soul? Or...
My dearest friend, it is not my gall,
but the world itself that troubles my soul.
I know a doctor who understands the soul thoroughly.
He healed a woman who was blinded by a shock and now she can see again.
Nothing upon this earth can help me.
The present has no appeal for me at all,
and as for the future, I can only think of the mortifying fact
that it will end one day.
However, what I long for is that you, Marie, can understand me.
But I do understand you,
you dear and sensitive man.
Then may I ask something of you? - Of course.
Would you care to die with me?
Of course not.
But with pistols it can be very quick.
First I'd shoot you, and then myself.
You would make me very, very happy.
I'm very fond of you, as you know, my dear.
But now you really are going too far.
But I love you, Marie. - And I love you too, my dear.
Then please do consider my request, my dearest Marie!
Because I love you.
And if you love me too, really love me, you will do this for me.
Because nothing in life should be more important to you than this love.
Not even life itself.
I'm afraid Pauline has a piano lesson on Tuesday.
I therefore cannot go fora walk with you.
On Wednesday Vogel has a free afternoon, so we shall spend the time together.
But if you are available on Friday,
I would be glad if you would join us for a musical evening,
at about seven o'clock.
Whatever you wanted to tell me face to face
can surely be revealed in the company of others after all.
Tell me, my dear friend, for surely you know.
It would interest me: The new tax...
Must absolutely everybody pay it?
Yes.
Including the aristocracy? - Yes.
But also the townsman, the peasant and the beggar.
The new tax applies to everybody. That's what's new about it.
And that is why the peasant is to be freed? Merely so he can pay taxes?
How unjust. - But still, it is a rather nice idea.
Freedom and equality for all before the law.
That is French, is it not?
I believe the peasants would rather remain in bondage
than be free like their masters just so they can pay taxes.
That is an undesirable freedom, which nobody would want.
They would have to be freed by force. - Exactly.
How should a serf, who knows nothing but bondage, survive on his own!
It will be his downfall.
And yet...
I would rather be free and face my downfall than remain in bondage.
I would not.
I am my husband's property, and I should never dare to demand freedom.
Our government's attempt to reform the state according to French ideas
is a mockery of our understanding of justice and injustice.
What they call equality is really injustice,
and what they call freedom is a trick.
Whereas the feudal state has developed in Prussia over centuries
and represents the natural order.
Why should we abandon it?
In exchange for the shortsighted ideas of some dreamers,
who claim to be Republicans or even Democrats?
Dreamers who have apparently not noticed that the revolt in France failed!
A violet in the meadow stood
With humble brow, demure and good
It was the sweetest violet
There came along a shepherdess
With youthful step and happiness
Who sang Who sang along the way
This song
Oh! thought the violet
How I pine for nature's beauty to be mine
Oh, if only for a moment
For then my love might notice me
And on her bosom fasten me
I wish
I wish if only for a moment long
But, cruel fate!
The maiden came
Without a glance or care for it
She trampled down the violet
It sank and died
But happily
And so I die
Then let me die for her
For her
Beneath her darling feet
Poor little violet
It was the sweetest violet
Thank you, thank you. Oh, please...
Of course, I am no Frau von Krahl.
I'm just...
Bravo.
First... I do not wish to keep this secret from you.
I love another.
You know her, I believe.
A lady of high society and of noble education.
However,
this love has not been reciprocated.
What can be worse than being rejected? It makes me feel lonelier than ever.
When love is not reciprocated, love dies.
I'm searching for an individual who does return my love
and will share with me the wish I hold so dear.
However, that particular lady has refused to comply with this wish of mine.
And so I no longer love her. - You speak of marriage?
Not exactly.
It is in fact something else.
And now it appears to me that you may be more right for this.
I'm falling in love with you.
Unless you are not...
It may sound odd, but I am not looking for a partner in life.
But rather in death.
Are you ill?
One might say that.
My soul is ill with weariness and solitude.
It's the fault of my foolish disposition,
that can only enjoy what cannot be.
I'm no good at life,
but I don't want to die alone, without love.
So I seek the joy of finding a kindred soul
who understands my suffering
and is like me,
so that we can die together.
And you thought of me?
But why? - Forgive me if I'm too direct.
But you seem to be
an outsider just like me.
You are also lonely.
Bereft of friends. And nothing really matters to you.
You love nothing,
and nobody loves you.
What? How can you say that?
I have my child
and my husband, who loves me very much indeed.
But do you love him? - Yes.
And my little Pauline loves me too,
and I love her.
Well, perhaps I was mistaken.
Forgive me.
Oh, Vogel. I am so happy to see you.
How was your journey?
It confirmed what I keep trying to tell the chancellor.
Many people are still not registered in a trade, so they can't be taxed.
I am only responsible for taxing the trades.
How can I demand payment of the general tax
when not everyone is registered yet?
And I doubt that the registered trades will bear the burden in the meantime.
Mama?
Please tell me what you really think.
What sort of infection is this? If it really is one.
If I knew, I would tell you.
Amazing how suddenly everything can change.
Only yesterday I was...
happy
and carefree.
And now this.
Ah, it will pass.
But do you not worry about me?
If Pauline were ill, I would be beside myself with worry.
That would not help her much.
Henriette.
How lovely to see you. - Yes.
How are you?
Madame Vogel is still weak because of these ailments.
You must not tire her, my friend.
Oh, really? What is wrong with you? - Oh, nothing.
Or at least, they say it is nothing.
But perhaps they just don't know what it is.
It is upsetting to have an illness nobody knows or understands.
I also suffer
from something internal, invisible, which nobody knows or understands.
How similar we are.
“And when the count, during a happy hour,
asked his wife why, despite seeming capable of withstanding all depravity,
she had fled from him as if he were the devil,
she replied, throwing her arms around his neck,
that he would never have seemed like the devil to her
if he had not seemed like an angel upon his first appearance.”
How well-worded. - You are smart.
But now I ask you:
When the count slept with the woman he loved without her agreement,
was he acting justly or unjustly?
Unjustly. - Precisely.
Then why are you plaguing yourself and us with the absurd suggestion
that he could win the love of the marquise in the end?
What useless hypochondria.
But, Mother, if the marquise truly loves this man,
and her love is stronger than his crime. - Nonsense.
In that case the poor woman is seriously ill
and needs to be cured from an unhealthy kind of love
which is nothing more than artificial exultation.
I hope, my child, that I have taught you otherwise.
Mother...
I really prefer Goethe.
It's strange to have an illness that may not be one.
A figment of the imagination which is as real as reality.
So what's the difference?
The main thing is, it's nothing serious.
Please, tell my wife all this. I couldn't repeat your words.
Believe me...
It really is most interesting.
It is extraordinary and rather difficult for me to describe.
Medicine is facing a mystery here.
The latest examination of Madame Vogel's urine,
which I was sure would help us
and which, to be certain, I performed myself together with a colleague,
revealed nothing.
Nothing to cause alarm from a medical point of view.
I shall have the results checked by the medical board of the Charité.
Then we can be certain.
But what causes the spasms if there's nothing wrong with me?
We doctors are in the dark about this.
But perhaps this is a female complaint
of a more spiritual than physical nature.
This assumption is based on the theory
that a certain fluidum flows through both the soul and the body,
which therefore influence each other.
This would explain why spiritual disturbances
can lead to physical illnesses.
Nonsense.
Thank God, it isn't serious at least.
So Mama doesn't have to die?
And what can be done?
Relax.
I can't.
Something is depressing and destroying my mood,
making me anxious and sad.
Would you like to tell us something?
I'm afraid.
There's nothing to be afraid of.
It's the flowers. They frighten me.
The flowers?
Yes.
I can't bear to see their sweet beauty.
It reminds me of the fact that they will fade.
Their bittersweet scent lingers in my nose.
I see. The flowers. - Yes.
The flowers and other quite banal things.
They strike me as menacing,
and an undefined fear arises within me
which causes me to see the world
and everything in it with a terrible doubt:
What if all this was a mistake?
I can't remember anything.
That is quite normal. Wouldn't you say?
The patient can't remember anything she says or does during the treatment
due to a kind of protective mechanism.
In a magnetic sleep the patient utters things
that she would never say in a waking state.
What did I say?
Nothing important, really.
Wouldn't you say?
This treatment requires a number of sessions
in order to achieve success.
Is the treatment working, then?
It often takes months or even years until one finds something
that might indicate the spiritual origin of the current ailment.
Here, we are in the darkness.
Where the blue mountains
Rise from the lowering skies
Look inside
Where the sun sets
Where the clouds spread
There I would like to be
There in that quiet valley
Which silences pain and woe
“So I spend my evenings with the Vogels,
because this lady does not let me see her alone, for the sake of decency.
You see, my friend, how limited she is by convention.
But I intend to free her from this,
for her own good,
since this narrow-minded life is humiliating
and deprives one of all possibility of doing what one's soul wishes.
It produces people who do not know themselves
and behave like puppets, moving to a fixed choreography.
So, in short, when I observe this idyllic scene
and pretend that I am part of it,
I am thrilled by the wonderful idea
that Henriette would give up all this worldly happiness
for my sake.
That she would sacrifice it all at my feet.
How divine that would be.”
Eternally
Bon appétit.
I think I had better wait in the salon.
After examining the findings on Madame Vogel,
the medical board of the Charité in Berlin
has come to a different conclusion
regarding the manner and extent of her illness.
The Charité sent me this letter, which I will read to you now.
“The examination of Madame Vogel
by the medical board of Charité in Berlin,
performed on the 7th of May 1811, gave the following conclusion.
The patient is suffering from an incurable ulcer or tumor
in the lower abdomen, with discharge.
The ulcer or tumor is approximately two inches in diameter,
about the size of an unripe green apple or an orange.
Considering the type of ulcer or tumor, this means it is in an advanced stage.
It appears to have been present in the patient's abdomen for some time,
approximately two years.
It also appears that this ulcer or tumor
has caused the faintings and spasms that the patient has suffered.
The patient should be treated according to the advice of the family doctor,
since we do not advise any special treatment.
With best regards, Dr. Kienast, Prussian Medical Board of the Charité, Berlin.”
So it is serious after all.
So Mama does have to die?
Everyone has to die sometime.
And what can be done?
Bed rest and bloodletting.
Two cups of chamomile tea a day.
Avoid all local irritation. This also includes intercourse.
The condition is not contagious,
but you need rest,
and plenty of fresh air.
I'm afraid she doesn't have much time left.
Imagine: I'm going to die. - Oh.
It is that serious?
I heard the doctor tell Vogel.
I don't have long to live.
I am ashamed that I understand you only now.
Now that I am facing death myself.
But now I prefer to die with you
than be killed by this terrible illness, alone in a sick bed.
I didn't think I was so close to death.
I was in the prime of my life, and now this.
So you were right to choose me after all.
I no longer expected this. - Neither did I.
This is rather a surprise for me now. - For me, too.
Allow me to think about it.
Do stay!
It is good not to be alone,
to speak with somebody
who knows me better than I know myself.
And who is also so close to death.
I'm not really sure.
You said things about me that I had never dared to think,
and now I feel that everything you said may be true.
You spoke about my loneliness
and said I did not love and was not loved.
It's as if I can see clearly now.
I see that my existence is meaningless,
something which you saw already.
You say these things because you are ill.
What of it? Now I understand you, Heinrich.
Like you understood me.
Because I now feel as lonely as you.
I have become the woman you saw in me earlier.
I am yours now.
Suddenly I am not so sure.
Forgive me, Henriette,
I had hoped you would decide to take this step for my sake.
Because you accept my sorrow as your own and love me for it.
And not because of your fear of death.
You see, I suffer not from death, but from life.
Is Fräulein Marie at home?
The Fräulein is out of town.
But Frau von Massow is at home.
You are acquainted with this Adam Müller, are you not?
He told us recently that the reform has been decided upon.
What do you say to that? Isn't it awful?
Even we must pay taxes now.
It is utterly inconvenient for me.
I shall have to dismiss my valet, the poor man.
Was that the aim of it? - My dear aunt.
I have lost my allowance from the queen,
which I received until her untimely death.
Even my sister is losing faith in my talent and has withdrawn my funds.
So what do I care for your valet?
Then you must find yourself a sensible position.
Or at least join the volunteer corps.
Make yourself useful,
and protect us from these new French ideas,
which lead to slaughter, as we've witnessed.
The people cannot be left to rule over themselves.
Even Queen Luise dressed in the Parisian fashion.
Oh, and Marie, your dear cousin,
is marrying a Frenchman. Just imagine.
What? - Yes, she is engaged.
In Paris? - Exactly.
To a Frenchman? - Yes.
Why isn't anything going right for me?
Are you expecting her to return soon?
My dear friend, do not raise your hopes about that.
It's too late.
One never knows. - In this case, one does.
The chancellor enforced the new laws. - What a pity.
What will you do?
I shall do my best to deal with the problems threatening the reforms
and ensure they can be effective.
These reforms may fail due to the lack of a system
for measuring income and property as the basis for taxation.
We have too few officials.
And the nobility cling to their privileges like a dog to his bone.
That may be.
My dear Vogel, I shall go to the country tomorrow.
How lovely. It will do you good.
I shall stay overnight.
Yes, do enjoy yourself.
I will not be alone.
I see...
Do you like this cup?
It is quite valuable.
It would fetch a good price.
I don't know about such things.
Well...
There is no need to sell it.
You can simply enjoy its fine appearance.
Yes, ma'am.
For the love and kindness,
you, my dear, have shown me in the 72 years of our marriage,
I cannot thank you enough.
I beg of you from the bottom of my heart,
to forgive me if! have ever offended you.
We shall meet again in a place
where all shall be forgiven.
But the doctor said you should rest.
Be a good girl and always obey your father.
Yes.
You'll see, soon you will be a grown-up,
and have your place in life.
Yes.
And you will be content with it.
Yes.
How long do you intend to stay?
Until tomorrow. - One night, then.
Oh, Heinrich, I'm so happy that we found one another.
It happens more often than one might think,
that two people who are destined for one another
simply do not find each other.
Yes, that does happen.
What a fine thing it is that now we can experience how it feels
to truly love.
Yes, it is a fine thing.
Why two?
In case one doesn't work. - I see.
“My dear Marie,
... might surprise you.
I have replaced you with another friend.
But not one who wants to live with me. Rather, one who wants to die with me.
A friend whose soul floats...
Whose soul...
flies like a young
eagle,
like I have never seen before.
She understands that my sadness is deep and incurable,
and therefore wants to die with me.”
Yes?
Oh, excuse me.
You may come in.
There is a problem.
What is it? - We are not alone.
Adam Müller is here. He is sitting downstairs.
I think he recognized me.
Madame Vogel has been kind enough to read my poetry,
which assists me greatly in my work.
Don't worry, my friend. I shall be as silent as a grave.
You completely misunderstand, my dear friend.
Heinrich, don't be such a moralist. You are offending the lady.
This lady is here to read my poetry and for no other purpose.
At least, not the purpose you imagine.
No offense. As you wish.
I had no idea the lady was such a gifted reader.
And the tragedy? How was it received?
With a lot of bellyache and some well-meant criticism, I hear.
That's enough. I have had enough of your insults.
I had better leave you to your business and say good night.
It is late.
No, I shall leave. You stay.
I wanted to go anyway.
Please stay. - Too late.
I can't stay any longer.
Where the blue mountains
Rise from the lowering skies
Look inside
Where the sun sets
Where the clouds spread
There I would like to be
There in that quiet valley
Which silences pain and woe
Where in rocky spaces
Softly sleep the primroses
And sweeps so gently
Will we go to Freienwalde again next summer?
Perhaps.
And will we visit the Poggenpohl's bunnies then?
Certainly.
For improvements to the servants' quarters: 50 thalers.
For warm clothes, shoes and hair-bands for the child: 11 thalers.
And finally, for daily expenses: 24 thalers.
Very good. You were thrifty.
We are left with 15 Reichsthalers.
Use the money for yourself. Buy something nice.
Thank you.
Do you intend to go on excursions again?
No.
It would certainly do you good.
You know... - I know.
Marie?
Oh!
You are back in town?
I asked your aunt to tell me as soon as you returned to Berlin.
I returned earlier to take care of some matters.
Do come to tea one day. My aunt will be delighted.
Perhaps now? If that is convenient?
Of course.
What matters do you need to take care of here in Berlin?
I believe my aunt has told you.
I am to be married.
I heard,
but I didn't want to believe it.
Do you have no feelings for me whatsoever?
On the contrary, my friend.
The friendship I feel for you will not end because of my marriage.
Perhaps not because of your marriage,
but because I decided to end myself.
Oh, no. - Oh, yes.
Marie,
do you remember our conversation in the salon?
When I made a certain request of you? - Yes.
Well, I had hoped that you might have changed your mind.
As a result of your experiences
or the letters we exchanged.
Yes, your letters. I meant to reply, but so many things came up.
I'm sure you know what I mean. - I'm afraid not.
In my case, nothing ever comes up.
I myself arrange everything I need for my daily work.
Nobody offers me anything. But I'm not complaining.
Marie,
I ask you:
Do you want to die with me?
No. - But Marie!
Dying with you would be a happy end to my constant suffering on this earth.
With you at my side it would be so easy to say farewell.
Certain of your love I would prefer the grave to the bed of any queen.
I am not the person you think I am.
But how could I be so wrong?
How could I dare ask again, despite your refusal,
if I were not certain that a kindred heart beats in your breast?
That kindred thoughts fill your mind,
that your soul is the sister of my own?
In short, if I did not know
that you can understand my disappointment with the world?
Because you also
see the emptiness of all worldly efforts.
Oh, why do you let yourself go like this?
I always enjoyed philosophizing with you,
but you are starting to spoil my good mood.
I agree that life is meaningless and people are cruel,
but there's no need to let it bother you so much.
You have to make an effort,
use a bit of imagination and good will to see the pleasant side of things.
So you do not love me? - Not in the way you imagine.
You and your romantic ideas.
In the end everybody has to die alone.
Not even you can change that. - Yes, I can.
We shall see.
“Henriette,
my wish to die together with you,
in the hope that you can love me and that I may love you,
is stronger than ever.
Forgive me my long silence.
Is it too late?
Or may I still hope?
Are you really the person I have always believed you to be?
Give me a sign
to answer my tormenting questions.”
How have you been?
I had not heard from you and assumed you had forgotten about me.
Never, Henriette, could I ever forget you.
I think of you constantly.
It is the same for me.
At least every second thought that passes through my mind
is addressed to you,
my dear.
I was a fool.
Blinded, selfish,
full of mistrust.
I could not believe that I could be so lucky
to find the one who would prefer death at my side
to life at the side of another
out of love.
So then it is settled?
We shall become immortal together?
First I will shoot you and then myself.
Henriette?
I have interesting news from Paris.
Yes?
I met a doctor there who specializes in illnesses of the spirit,
similar to Mesmer, who is well known here in Berlin.
I gave him your records
and imagine,
he thought that your condition may be a nervous disorder after all.
He considers it a very interesting case.
He would like to examine you in person.
Really?
Oh, Paris.
That would be a lovely trip.
They are very advanced in such things there, aren't they?
Yes.
Much more so than here,
especially when illnesses of the spirit are concerned,
I have been told.
But I have a real tumor, not an imaginary one.
The two are connected, the imaginary and the real.
But the political situation.
Going to Paris would not be safe now, surely?
The journey was quite dangerous, I admit.
You see? Oh, we should forget about it.
No. There is still hope.
Henriette, we must try everything.
Oh.
I'm scared.
What if there is no cure,
and the hope was in vain?
Henriette,
you have always been loyal to me.
Now it's my turn
to be loyal to you.
I will try everything to keep you.
They are ringing the knells.
In memory of Queen Luise.
Oh no, you are mistaken. Those are the bells of life.
Ringing for her redeemed soul which is immortal.
Take your places for the waltz.
It is bizarre.
I feel as if an outside power was controlling me.
As if I were a puppet in a puppet theater.
Or as if I was hypnotized by a hypnotist,
and I cannot awake from the trance.
And at the same time, I realize there is no awakening.
There is no other life than this one.
You can't choose.
Isn't that right, Vogel?
No, my dear. I do believe some things can be chosen.
But love! That can't be chosen.
In a way it can.
For example, you can choose to live with me or with someone else.
With that poet, for example.
No, I couldn't live with him.
He only thinks of himself.
But if you really did prefer him,
I want you to know that I would respect your choice.
It would be hard for Pauline at first, but children adapt fast.
It has got so cold,
and I don't feel well.
Shouldn't we postpone the excursion?
But, my little dove, an excursion would do you good.
It's exactly what you need in your condition.
Imagine, we will be going out of town soon. To Paris.
Oh. - Yes.
Vogel found a doctor who knows a treatment
for the ulcer.
Or for the fainting fits at least.
He may be able to cure me.
I see.
Yes, there is hope,
although the situation does seem to be serious.
What do you carry in that case?
Pistols?
No.
I catch butterflies.
I need all sorts of equipment for that, which I keep in this case.
Butterflies?
In November? - Yes.
Excuse me...
“My little dove, my life, the light of my life,
my all, my every possession,
my castles and fields, my meadows and vineyards.
Oh, sun, moon and stars,
heaven and earth, past and future,
my bride,
my dearest friend, my heart's blood, my bowels, light of my eyes!
My dearest, what should I call you?
My golden child, my pearl,
my precious stone, my crown,
my queen and empress. My highest and dearest...”
The bodies will be taken to the morgue later today.
The deceased left no letters or messages,
as far as we can tell.
Have you forgotten Silesia?
The illiterate peasants were made dizzy and brought to believe
that since they are paying taxes
they are absolutely free to do whatever they please.
There were even fatalities. - Yes.
Mankind is neither equal nor free by nature.
Each one of us is bound to what he happens to be.
And a state is much closer to this truth
by not making every man responsible for himself.
But rather by helping the ignorant by appointing to power
those who have studied, analyzed and thought everything through,
only to find out how difficult it still is to make the right decisions.
Unfortunately Prussia will soon be bankrupt,
so it will have to make some changes
and introduce a more economical use of land, livestock and manpower.
And this will mean more freedom, of course.
More than we all seem to want.
In England free trade among free citizens brought wealth and prosperity.
Social reforms are good.
But if they mean equality of all subjects,
remember the Jacobite terror,
they must be condemned.
If only we were spared the democracy
where educated people will be outvoted by the mob.
Let's hear it. We have no secrets here.
The autopsy has revealed
that all of Madame Vogel's internal organs were in good health.
No tumor or ulcer was found.
So it would seem it really was a nervous disorder.
It was a mistake after all.
It was out of love after all.
Where the blue mountains
Rise from the lowering skies
Look inside
Where the sun sets
Where the clouds spread
There I would like to be
There in that quiet valley
Which silences pain and woe
Where in rocky spaces
Softly sleep the primroses
And sweeps so gently the wind
There I would like to be
To the forests depths
Pushes me the power of my love
My inner pain
If only I could stay
If only I could be with you
Eternally