FURST (attentively).
Say on. What is it?
STAUFFACHER.
There dwells in Melchthal, then,
Just as you enter by the road from Kearns,
An upright man, named Henry of the Halden,
A man of weight and influence in the Diet.
FURST.
Who knows him not? But what of him? Proceed.
STAUFFACHER.
The Landenberg, to punish some offence,
Committed by the old man's son, it seems,
Had given command to take the youth's best pair
Of oxen from his plough: on which the lad
Struck down the messenger and took to flight.
FURST.
But the old father—tell me, what of him?
STAUFFACHER.
The Landenberg sent for him, and required
He should produce his son upon the spot;
And when the old man protested, and with truth,
That he knew nothing of the fugitive,
The tyrant called his torturers.
FURST (springs up and tries to lead him to the other side).
Hush, no more!
STAUFFACHER (with increasing warmth).
"And though thy son," he cried, "Has escaped me now,
I have thee fast, and thou shalt feel my vengeance."
With that they flung the old man to the earth,
And plunged the pointed steel into his eyes.
FURST.
Merciful heavens!
MELCHTHAL (rushing out).
Into his eyes, his eyes?