It is not the
Prince, it is not the King, it is not the principality. Herr, I have
come near to being a very wicked woman, who was about to break the most
sacred promise a sovereign can make. Before I came here a delegation
of my people approached me. On bended knees they asked me not to
voluntarily return the principality to the King, who was likely to give
them a ruler rapacious or cruel or indifferent. And while they
understood what a sacrifice it meant to me, they asked me to bend my
will to the King's and wed the Prince, vowing that I alone should be
recognized as their sovereign ruler. Since my coronation they said
that they had known the first happiness in years. Herr, it was so
pathetic! I love my people, who, after all, are not adopted since I
was born here. So I gave my promise, and, heaven forgive me, I was
about to break it! There are some things, Herr, which the publican
does not understand. One of these is the duty a sovereign owes to the
people. The woman in me wishes to follow your fortunes, though they
carry her to the ends of the world; but the sovereign sees but one
path--honor and duty.
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