I shall go as soon as I feel well enough.

My father is refused admittance, but your husband can do much, and I must speak with him." "Will you receive him to-morrow ?" "The sooner the better, for he is your husband and, I repeat, the ground is burning under my feet." "Oh!" exclaimed Maria.
"That sounds very sad," cried Henrica.

"Do you want to hear, that I shall find it hard to leave you?
I shouldn't go yet; but my sister Anna, she is now a widow--Thank God, I should like to say, but she is suffering want and utterly deserted.

I must speak to my father about her, and go forth from the quiet haven into the storm once more." "My husband will come to you," said Maria.
"That's right, that's right! Come in, children! Put the flowers on the table yonder.

You, little elf, sit down on the stool and you, Salvatore, shall give me the flowers.