Oh, by this hearth's bright hospitable blaze,
By your dear children's heads, which I embrace—
[Grasps the boys.]
HEDWIG.
Stand back, I say! What is your purpose, man?
Back from my boys! You are no monk,—no, no,
Beneath the robe you wear peace should abide,
But peace abides not in such looks as yours.
MONK.
I am the wretchedest of living men.
HEDWIG.
The heart is never deaf to wretchedness;
But your look freezes up my inmost soul.
WALTER (springs up).
Mother, here's father!