And is it you! your very self, my father?
I thought you had but sent your voice before you,
Where are you lingering still? What mountains, streams,
Or deserts now divide us? Here we are
Once more together, face to face, and yet
You do not hasten to embrace your Recha!
Poor Recha! she was almost burnt alive!
Yet she escaped----But do not, do not shudder.
It were a dreadful death to die by fire!