Blent with his dreams of home? Of that dark tale
The rest is known to vengeance! Art thou here,
With thy deep wrongs and resolute despair,
Childless Montalba?
Mon. (advancing.) He is at thy side.
Call on that desolate father in the hour
When his revenge is nigh.
Pro. Thou, too, come forth,
From thine own halls an exile! Dost thou make
The mountain-fastnesses thy dwelling still,