Although I murmured—tis—it is my Son!120
Josepha. Aye, 'tis dear Ulric—yet, methinks, he's changed, too:
His cheek is tanned, his frame more firmly knit!
That scar, too, dearest Ulric—I do fear me—
Thou hast been battling with these heretics,
And that's a Swedish token on thy brow.
Ulric. My heart is glad with yours—we meet like those
Who never would have parted:—of the past
You shall know more anon—but, here's a guest
That asks a gentle welcome. Noble Baron,