And you will pause with sure deliberate judgment

Before you leave our father.

Does love steal
So gently o’er our soul? What if he come,
A cloud, a fire, a whirlwind, to o’erbear
The feeble barriers wherewith we oppose him,
And blind our eyes and wrest from us our reason?
Fear not, Annicca, for in no such guise
He visits my calm breast; but yet you speak
Somewhat too sagely. Did such cautious wisdom
Guide your own fancy?

Jest no more, Maria.
Since I became a wife, is much made clear,
Which a brief year ago was dark and vague.
Tommaso loves me we are happier
Than I had dreamed; yet matching now with then,
I see his love is not that large, rich passion
Our father bore us.

You regret your home?