CHARLES VON M. (rushes towards him). Brother, brother! the letter, the letter!
SCHW. (gives him a letter, which he opens hastily). What's the matter? You have grown as pale as a whitewashed wall!
CHARLES VON M. My brother's hand!
SCHW. What the deuce is Spiegelberg about there?
GRIMM. The fellow's mad. He jumps about as if he had St. Vitus' dance.
SCHUF. His wits are gone a wool gathering! He's making verses, I'll be sworn!
RAZ. Spiegelberg! Ho! Spiegelberg! The brute does not hear.
GRIMM. (shakes him). Hallo! fellow! are you dreaming? or—
SPIEGEL. (who has all this time been making gestures in a corner of the room, as if working out some great project, jumps up wildly). Your money or your life! (He catches SCHWEITZER by the throat, who very coolly flings him against the wall; Moor drops the letter and rushes out. A general sensation.)
ROLLER. (calling after him). Moor! where are you going? What's the matter?