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No, no! it cannot be!—Didst thou not say They sent us home?

D'Aubigné.Where is the spirit's home?— Oh! most of all, in these dark evil days, Where should it be—but in that world serene, Beyond the sword's reach, and the tempest's power— Where, but in Heaven?

Blanche.My father!

D'Aubigné.We must die. We must look up to God, and calmly die.— Come to my heart, and weep there!—for awhile Give Nature's passion way, then brightly rise In the still courage of a woman's heart! Do I not know thee?—Do I ask too much From mine own noble Blanche?

Blanche, (falling on his bosom.) Oh! clasp me fast! Thy trembling child!—Hide, hide me in thine arms— Father!

D'Aubigné. Alas! my flower, thou'rt young to go— Young, and so fair!—Yet were it worse, methinks,