MOSER. No, not one
FRANCIS (falling back in a chair). Annihilation! annihilation!
MOSER. Rejoice, then, rejoice! Congratulate yourself! With all your abominations you are yet a saint in comparison with a parricide. The curse that falls upon you is a love ditty in comparison with the curse that lies upon him. Retribution—
FRANCIS (starting up). Away with thee! May the graves open and swallow thee ten thousand fathoms deep, thou bird of ill omen! Who bade thee come here? Away, I tell thee, or I will run thee through and through!
MOSER. Can mere "priestly cant" excite a philosopher to such a pitch of
frenzy? Why not blow it away with a breath of your lips?
(Exit.)
[FRANCIS throws himself about in his chair in
terrible agitation. Profound stillness.]
Enter a SERVANT, hastily
SERVANT. The Lady Amelia has fled. The count has suddenly disappeared.
Enter DANIEL, in great alarm.
DANIEL. My lord, a troop of furious horsemen are galloping down the hill, shouting "murder! murder!" The whole village is in alarm.
FRANCIS. Quick! let all the bells be tolled—summon everyone to the chapel—let all fall on their knees—pray for me. All prisoners shall be released and forgiven—I will make two and threefold restitution to the poor—I will—why don't you run? Do call in the father confessor, that he may give me absolution for my sins. What! are you not gone yet? (The uproar becomes more audible.)
DANIEL. Heaven have mercy upon me, poor sinner! Can I believe you in earnest, sir? You, who always made a jest of religion? How many a Bible and prayer-book have you flung at my head when by chance you caught me at my devotions?