Same place, same scene, same actors! but this was funereal grief in place of the joys of motherhood; the night of death instead of the dawn of life.

At that moment the storm, threatened by the melancholy moaning of the sea since sundown, suddenly burst forth.
"Dear flower of my life!" said the mother, kissing her son.

"You were taken from my bosom in the midst of a tempest, and in a tempest I am taken from you.

Between these storms all life has been stormy to me, except the hours I have spent with you.

This is my last joy, mingled with my last pangs.