[A moment's pause.]
What holds the future now in store for you?
NATALIE. After this thunderbolt which cleaves the ground
Beneath my very feet, what can I do?
My father and my precious mother rest
Entombed at Amsterdam; in dust and ashes
Dordrecht, my heritage ancestral lies.
Pressed hard by the tyrannic hosts of Spain
Maurice, my kin of Orange, scarcely knows
How he shall shelter his own flesh and blood.
And now the last support that held my fate's
Frail vine upright falls from me to the earth.
Oh, I am orphaned now a second time!
THE PRINCE (throwing his arm about her waist).
Oh, friend, sweet friend, were this dark hour not given
To grief, to be its own, thus would I speak
Oh, twine your branches here about this breast,
Which, blossoming long years in solitude,
Yearns for the wondrous fragrance of your bells.
NATALIE. My dear, good cousin!
THE PRINCE. Will you, will you?
NATALIE. Ah,
If I might grow into its very marrow!
[She lays her head upon his breast.]
THE PRINCE. What did you say
NATALIE. Go now!