Ah, Saints of Paradise, give back my Pierre.
Comfort, console me, if you value him!
(She rises.)
He’s not yet home. I am so tired out!
(She goes to Rosette’s cradle and looks at the sleeping child.)
She sleeps a sound soft sleep. Oh, may God grant
That I be spared you, little one, my sweet!
(She turns toward Saint Rose.)
I give her to your keeping while I rest,
To you, her patron saint.