I am desolated--afflicted; there are no words that can say.

And you awaiting me still, my little bird of Paradise, singing so bravely in the darkness!" "Whistling," corrected Chris; "I can't sing.

What on earth has happened?
Are you hurt ?" "No, no! It is nothing--a _bagatelle_.

Ah, but you have found the good Cinders! I am rejoiced indeed!" "Yes, he came to me--ages ago.

It is you I have been waiting for all this time.