Enter countess Roland, leading in Ulrica through the stage door.
Coun. There! and now, whilst I return, and consult with the baron, I'll take care nobody consults with you. [Taking the key out of the stage door.
Ul. Heavens! what have I done, aunt?
Coun. What have you not done? And till you're wife to Ravensburg this and the adjoining chamber shall be your prison—it shall! for even if the great young count Roland were to offer marriage, who knows but you might write to him about "humble sphere," and "early education." Write! nonsense! Why here I am who never wrote a letter in my life.
Ul. This my prison! Aunt, my dear aunt, if I have long sickened at this scene of splendid misery, and sighed for your sister's calm cottage in Franconia, what must I now, when poor Agnes, and this frightful tribunal——
Coun. My sister's cottage!
Ul. And my cousin Christopher——
Coun. How's again! again insult me with this low relationship! I'm gone, madam (Christopher re-enters behind, smiles, rubs his hands, and stops at the door, and listens)—gone to prepare for your marriage with a man of my own rank, madam. And once more take notice, I disclaim, I disown the whole Franconia family; and if any poor cousin, niece, or nephew attempt to hang on me, depend on't they shall hang on something more substantial. Oh! by way of example, only let me catch one of them—just that this frightful tribunal may catch, rack, and torture him into confession of his own and your presumption. [Exit at the stage door, banging and locking it after her.
Chris. (groaning loudly) Oh! h! h!
Ul. (half turning round.) A man! a strange—help!