He is free now!
Aymer enters, armed as for battle.
Aymer! you look so changed!
Aym. Changed!—it may be. A storm o’ the soul goes by
Not like a breeze! There’s such a fearful grasp
Fix’d on my heart! Speak to me—lull remorse!
Bid me farewell!
Mor. Yes! it must be farewell!
No other word but that.
Aym. No other word!