Plain kissing was more in her way--as I have been told.
So I aired my book of chivalry to Katrin Texel.
"Fair maid," said I, "have you heard the refrain of the song that I love so well?
It is like sweet music to me to hear it.

I love sweet music.
This is the latest catch: "'My true love hath my heart and I have his.' "How goes it, Helene ?" I asked, turning to her as she stood smiling bitterly by the window.

For I knew that it would annoy her to be referred to.

"Goes it not something like this ?" And I hummed fairly enough: "'My true love hath my heart and I have his.'" *** "And if it goes like that," said she, quickly, "it goeth like a tomcat mollrowing on the tiles in the middle of the night." Now this being manifestly only spiteful, I took no notice of her work.
"Helene does not love good music," said I; "'tis her only fault.

But I trust that you, dear Katrin, have a greater taste for angelic song ?" "And I trust you love to scratch upon the twangling zither as cats sharpen their claws upon the bark of trees?
You love such music, _dear_ Katrin, do you not ?" cried Helene over her shoulder from the window.
But Katrin, the divine cow, knew not what to make of us.