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Heaven hath not cast him off. O do not think it! The heart that loved him hath not cast him off, And do not thou. Pray for him: God will hear thee. (He retires from her; she still following him.) I do entreat, I do beseech thee, Father! I saw thy big tears glancing as they fell, Though shrouded be thy face. Wilt thou not speak?

I will obey thee. Lady.

He hath a strange, mistuned, and hollow voice, For one of so much sympathy. (Alarm bell without.) Ha! the alarm! What may it be? Ho! Pietro.

Haste, shut the castle gates, and with all speed Muster our strength,—there is no time to lose. Madam, give orders quickly. Where's Rovani?

What is the matter? Why this loud alarm?

The Marquis of Tortona, not far distant,