The dear work grows
Beneath my hand,—the last!
Teresa, (falling on his neck in tears.)
Eugene! Eugene!
Break not my heart with thine excess of love!—
Oh! must I lose thee—thou that hast been still
The tenderest—best!
Eugene. Weep, weep not thus, beloved!
Let my true heart o’er thine retain its power
Of soothing to the last! Mine own Teresa!