_Huld._ [_stopping her._] He is not on the road! No, never more Will he repass this threshold! _Ter._ ’Tis a dream! _Huld._ Dear lady, no!--too plainly tell the hunters All that has happened! _Ter._ And, pr’ythee, what has happened? _Huld._ A quarrel ’twixt the hunter and our master, Who now comes wounded home. _Ter._ And what of Paolo? _Huld._ Oh heavy, heavy news!--The child is missing! _Ter._ Nay, then he is not dead!--Oh no, not dead! I told thee heaven would not so deal with me! My precious boy will come back on the morrow,-- Hunters are often lost for many days. These men shall seek for him among the wilds-- I, too, will go myself. Where are the men! _Enter the_ HUNTER, _hastily_. _Hunt._ Dear lady, woe is me! _Huld._ Away, away! _Ter._ Where is my boy? _Hunt._ Oh wretched, wretched mother! _Ter._ Torture me not, but tell me where he is? _Hunt._ Lady, forgive me for the news I bring! _Ter._ Then he is dead? _Hunt._ Most terrible recital! Lady, thy husband, to preserve himself, Hath given thy little Paolo to the wolves! _Ter._ [_with a scream of horror._] Oh no, no, no! _Hunt._ He stopped their maws With thy poor Paolo’s blood! _Ter._ He did not so! _Hunt._ Poor little one, how he did cry for thee! _Huld._ Peace! can’st not hold thy peace. Oh hear it not! Lady, he is but missing. _Hunt._ Poor weak thing! How he did cling to me, and pray that I Would save him from his father! [_Teresa clasps her hands, and stands in speechless agony._ I might have snatched a pretty lock of hair; I wish I had--a pretty curling lock! _Ter._ [_falling on her knees._] God, of thy mercy strengthen, strengthen me! Enable me to bear what is thy will! [_She falls insensible to the floor._ _Huld._ Wretch, why didst tell it her so cruelly-- Besides, the iceberg hunters say not so. Thou’st killed her by thy tidings! _Hunt._ Hark, he comes! I hear her husband’s voice! _Huld._ She must not see him! [_She bears Teresa out._ _Hunt._ I must off! I’ll not again meet Olaf; He’s not the facile fool that once he was: But there’s that damning deed laid to his charge, Will make Teresa curse both him and heaven! [_He goes out._ SCENE VII. _The following day--the interior of the chapel--Teresa on her knees before the image of the Virgin._ Mother of God, who borest That cruel pang which made thy spirit bleed! Who knew’st severest anguish, sorrow sorest, Hear me in my great need! My need is great, my woe is like thine own! I am bereaved of mine only one! Thou know’st I have no other! Comfort me, oh my mother!