He
turned towards the well-known voice; his knees smote together; he
endeavoured to stretch forth his pinioned arms, and felt himself
clasped in the embraces of his child. The emotions of both were too
agonizing for utterance. Convulsive sobs and broken exclamations, and
embraces more of anguish than tenderness, were all that passed between
them. The procession was interrupted for a moment. The astonished
monks and familiars were filled with involuntary respect, at the agony
of natural affection. Ejaculations of pity broke from the crowd,
touched by the filial piety, the extraordinary and hopeless anguish,
of so young and beautiful a being.
Every attempt to soothe her, and prevail on her to retire, was
unheeded; at length they endeavoured to separate her from her father
by force. The movement roused her from her temporary abandonment. With
a sudden paroxysm of fury, she snatched a sword from one of the
familiars. Her late pale countenance was flushed with rage, and fire
flashed from her once soft and languishing eyes. The guards shrunk
back with awe. There was something in this filial frenzy, this
feminine tenderness wrought up to desperation, that touched even their
hardened hearts. They endeavoured to pacify her, but in vain.
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