FRANCIS (pacing up and down the room). Oh! what have you done, father? My Charles! my brother!
HERMANN. Here is the sword; and here, too, is a picture which he drew from his breast at the same time. It is the very image of this young lady. "This for my brother Francis," he said; I know not what he meant by it.
FRANCIS (feigning astonishment). For me? Amelia's picture? For me— Charles—Amelia? For me?
AMELIA (rushing violently upon HERMANN). Thou venal, bribed impostor! (Lays hold of him.)
HERMANN. I am no impostor, noble lady. See yourself if it is not your picture. It may be that you yourself gave it to him.
FRANCIS. By heaven, Amelia! your picture! It is, indeed.
AMELIA (returns him the picture) My picture, mine! Oh! heavens and earth!
OLD M. (screaming and tearing his face.) Woe, woe! my curse drove him into death! He fell in despair!
FRANCIS. And he thought of me in the last and parting hour—of me. Angelic soul! When the black banner of death already waved over him he thought of me!
OLD M. (stammering like an idiot.) My curse drove him into death. In despair my son perished.