'Let us vow, over the cold form of Sophia, to tear him to atoms.'

In the mean time the Duke’s sons arrived. The icy form of Sophia had not yet embraced the silent earth; and the Duke, with the savage grief of a lion robbed of his young, seized his / sons, and dragged them to the chamber where lay their ill-fated sister. A room hung with black, and illuminated with tapers, struck their astonished eyes. The Duke raised a velvet pall, and discovered the cold remains of Sophia, with an expression of horror on her countenance, that even the marble hand of death had not effaced. ‘Knowest thou Sophia now?’ asked the Duke, in a voice like thunder.