_Antonietta._ My husband!
_Matilde._ O my father!
_Antonietta._ Ah, thus thou comest back! Is this the moment
So long desired?
_Count._ O poor souls! Heaven knows
That only for your sake is it dreadful to me.
I who so long am used to look on death,
And to expect it, only for your sakes
Do I need courage. And you, you will not surely
Take it away from me? God, when he makes
Disaster fall on the innocent, he gives, too,
The heart to bear it. Ah! let _yours_ be equal
To your affliction now! Let us enjoy
This last embrace--it likewise is Heaven's gift.
Daughter, thou weepest; and thou, wife! Oh, when
I chose thee mine, serenely did they days
Glide on in peace; but made I thee companion
Of a sad destiny. And it is this thought
Embitters death to me. Would that I could not
See how unhappy I have made thee!
_Antonietta._ O husband
Of my glad days, thou mad'st them glad! My heart,--
Yes, thou may'st read it!--I die of sorrow! Yet
I could not wish that I had not been thine.
_Count._ O love, I know how much I lose in thee:
Make me not feel it now too much.
_Matilde._ The murderers!
_Count._ No, no, my sweet Matilde; let not those
Fierce cries of hatred and of vengeance rise
From out thine innocent soul.
Pages:
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174