FRANCIS (runs to the wall, and takes down a pistol). Here is treason! I must be resolute—
HERMANN (draws a pistol as quickly from his pocket, and presents it at him). Don't trouble yourself—one must be prepared for everything with you.
FRANCIS (lets the pistol fall, and throws himself on the sofa in great confusion). Only keep my council till—till I have collected my thoughts.
HERMANN. I suppose till you have hired a dozen assassins to silence my
tongue forever! Is it not so! But (in his ear) the secret is committed
to paper, which my heirs will publish.
[Exit.]
SCENE IX.
FRANCIS, solus.
Francis! Francis! Francis! What is all this? Where was thy courage?
where thy once so fertile wit? Woe! Woe! And to be betrayed by thy
own instruments! The pillars of my good fortune are tottering to their
fall, the fences are broken down, and the raging enemy is already
bursting in upon me. Well! this calls for some bold and sudden resolve!
What if I went in person—and secretly plunged this sword in his body?
A wounded man is but a child. Quick! I'll do it. (He walks with a
resolute step to the end of the stage, but stops suddenly as if overcome
by sensations of horror). Who are these gliding behind me? (Rolling
his eyes fearfully) Faces such as I have never yet beheld. What
hideous yells do I hear! I feel that I have courage—courage! oh yes to
overflowing! But if a mirror should betray me? or my shadow! or the
whistling of the murderous stroke! Ugh! Ugh! How my hair bristles! A
shudder creeps through my frame. (He lets a poigniard fall from under
his clothes.) I am no coward—perhaps somewhat too tenderhearted. Yes!
that is it! These are the last struggles of expiring virtue. I revere
them. I should indeed be a monster were I to become the murderer of my
own brother. No! no! no! That thought be far from me! Let me cherish
this vestige of humanity. I will not murder. Nature, thou hast
conquered. I still feel something here that seems like—affection. He
shall live.
[Exit.]
Enter HERMANN, timidly.
HERMANN. Lady Amelia! Lady Amelia!
AMELIA. Unhappy man! why dost thou disturb me?