But when Furio began to take up the babes, the boy from his nest among
his cradle pillows, the girl from her soft refuge in the mother's
bosom,--then the sorrow of Griselda would have melted the tough flint
to tears. She prayed with moving words, she shed such floods of tears,
she gave such piteous cries of agony, that Furio, tearing the children
away with one strong effort, ran from the room with the screaming
infants, his own face drenched with weeping. When the duke heard of
all this, though it did not move him from his obstinacy of purpose, he
yet grieved in secret, and wondered if Griselda's love could outlast
this trial.
The twin babes, torn so rudely from their mother, were sent to a noble
sister of the duke, who dwelt in Pavia; but no word was told to
Griselda of their fate; and she, poor mother, submissive to her
husband's will, because she believed it supreme, like God's, dared not
ask after them, lest she should hear that they were slain.
When the duke saw how Griselda had no reproaches, nothing but grief, to
oppose to his will, even his jealousy was forced to confess that her
faith had stood the test.
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