Ethbert. Was Theobald! Yes, my lord, it was he who had just, as he thought, struck your death-blow.
Arnold. And who directed your steps thither, at night?
Ethbert. God, himself. O, what a work of his wonderful love! Yes, God himself guided your noble father and your son to the Stag Cliffs at the moment when Theobald, flying before the two chevaliers, passed through the defile of the wood; and your father summoned Matthew and myself to descend there with him.
Arnold, (with adoration.) My father! sent from God to the murderer of his son? How wonderful are the ways of the Most High! But, Ethbert, did you not say that he was dead?
Ethbert. We thought so. But your pious and benevolent father, my lord, knelt, touched the supposed, corpse, and exclaimed, "He is not dead!" and aided by our hands, disengaged him. He extended him on the mossy ground, called for water, bathed and refreshed the pale countenance of the chevalier; his life returned, and your father glorified God.
"Theobald is living!" said Arnold, lifting towards heaven his eyes filled with tears. "O, who will make it known to his wife and children?"
Ethbert. Your father, my lord, commissioned the captain who brought you here, to inform them of his safety; but she is still ignorant of the asylum of her husband.
"And where is he?" asked Arnold.
Ethbert turns, and pointing to one side of the chamber, says, "Behind that wall, my lord—Theobald is in your father's bed."
Arnold clasped his hands, praying, and blessing God. Erard, who had just entered softly, approached him, and said to him, with tenderness, "Good papa, have you slept well? It is I, papa!--It is your little Erard! Will you not embrace me?"