——and when at last I am an old man with gray hair, then, perhaps, you will again stand closer to me than all those living about me.
Moritz.
I thank you. Good luck to your journey, gentlemen. Do not delay any longer.
The Masked Man.
Come, child! (He lays his arm upon that of Melchior and disappears with him over the graves.)
Moritz.
(Alone.)
Now I sit here with my head under my arm.——The moon covers her face, unveils herself again and seems not a hair the cleverer.——I will go back to my place, right my cross, which that madcap trampled down so inconsiderately, and when everything is in order I will lie down on my back again, warm myself in the corruption and smile.