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| bear my slackjawed burden, and cure your faithful servant, this rustic debutante at a cotton cotillion, her every embroidered button hole fortified with the worsted tyranny of gimcrack virginity. Once I too was Hussar-booted and Bonaparte, intent on market value. Yet how it jumped the day I allowed that first kiss to be followed by and, when I landed across the Rubicon sans map or cardinal. I knew no man without your aid, but the orisons that lined my lips weren't proud, but irritations nacred with quiet self-chiding. If I'd been more regular in my church going. A serious student. Or dutiful to those that raised me. But tucked under that regret, an indulgent violence and delight — so Sir, why question my severe devotion, exiled as I am from France, or even Elba? Yea, know this: though I walk in the glitz zirconia, I will wife to no man's and.
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