FERDINAND (in the most ungovernable fury). A murderer—the murderer of his son; he must along with us that the Judge of the world may pour his wrath on the guilty alone. (Hastening away).
LOUISA. My dying Redeemer pardoned his murderers,—may God pardon thee and thy father! (She dies.)
FERDINAND (turns quickly round, and perceives her in the convulsions of death, throws himself distractedly on the body). Stay! stay! Fly not from me, angel of light! (Takes her hand, but lets it fall again instantly.) Cold! cold and damp! her soul has flown! (Starting up suddenly.) God of my Louisa! Mercy! Mercy for the most accursed of murderers! Such was her dying prayer! How fair, how lovely even in death! The pitying destroyer has touched gently on those heavenly features. That sweetness was no mask—the hand of death even has not removed it! (After a pause.) But how is this? why do I feel nothing. Will the vigor of my youth save me? Thankless care! That shall it not. (He seizes the glass.)
SCENE VIII.
FERDINAND, the PRESIDENT, WORM, and SERVANTS, who all rush in alarm into the room. Afterwards MILLER, with a crowd, and OFFICERS of justice, who assemble in the background.
PRESIDENT (an open letter in his hand). My son! what means this? I never can believe——
FERDINAND (throwing the glass at his feet). Convince thyself, murderer!
(The PRESIDENT staggers back. All stand speechless. A dreadful pause.)
PRESIDENT. My son! Why hast thou done this?
FERDINAND (without looking at him). Why, to be sure I ought first to have asked the statesman whether the trick suited his cards. Admirably fine and skilful, I confess, was the scheme of jealousy to break the bond of our hearts! The calculation shows a master-mind; 'twas pity only that indignant love would not move on wires like thy wooden puppets.
PRESIDENT (looking round the circle with rolling eyes). Is there no one here who weeps for a despairing father?