Wallenstein. A heavy, heavy blow! 10
And she so unprepared! Poor child! How is it? [Turning to the Duchess.
Is she coming to herself?
Duchess. Her eyes are opening.
Countess. She lives.
Thekla (looking around her). Where am I?
Wallenstein (steps to her, raising her up in his arms). Come, cheerly, Thekla! be my own brave girl!
See, there's thy loving mother. Thou art in 15
Thy father's arms.
Thekla (standing up). Where is he? Is he gone?
Duchess. Who gone, my daughter?
Thekla. He—the man who uttered
That word of misery.
Duchess. O! think not of it,
My Thekla!
Wallenstein. Give her sorrow leave to talk!
Let her complain—mingle your tears with hers, 20
For she hath suffered a deep anguish; but
She'll rise superior to it, for my Thekla
Hath all her father's unsubdued heart.