The Man. It is vain to struggle; useless to combat! the giddy bliss of the abyss draws me on—my head is dizzy—the plunge is inevitable—my brain whirls!—O God!—Thy fiend has conquered!
The Guardian Angel (floating over the sea). Peace, ye waves! Be still!
At this very moment of time the holy water of baptism is poured upon the head of the infant, George Stanislaus.
Guardian Angel. Return to thy house: and sin no more!
Return to thy house: and love thy child!
The saloon with the piano. The Man enters, and a servant follows with a light.
The Man. Where is the countess?
Servant. My lady is ill.
The Man. She is not in her chamber; I have been there, and found it empty.