Had I desired to feast my eyes on the castle in flames, it would, perhaps, now lie in ashes.

So I became what I am.

True--and this is something--I grew to be at least one person's joy--his.

No, no, at home there are others also, though they dwell in wretched hovels, who would gladly welcome me back.

But except these, who will ask about the reckless countess?
I myself do not care to linger long when the mirror shows me my image.