Leonard. The God of Freedom will give us power for gigantic tasks.
Pancratius. What! You speak of God! Do you not see that it is crimson and slippery here—that we are standing deep in human gore?
Whose blood is this beneath our feet?
There is nothing behind us save the court of the castle; no one is near us. I know that we are quite alone, and yet, Leonard, I feel there is another here!
Leonard. I see nothing but this bloody corpse.
Pancratius. It is the corpse of his faithful old servant—that is only a dead body; but a spirit haunts this spot, and stands beside me; this cap—see, his arms are embroidered upon it; Count Henry's shield; look, Leonard! there is the jutting rock o'erhanging the abyss—upon this very spot his great heart broke!
Leonard. How pale you grow, Pancratius!
Pancratius. Look up! IT is there! above you! Do you not see it?
Leonard. I see nothing but a broken mass of clouds drifting down, and surging o'er the top of yonder craggy peak o'erhanging the abyss, which is turning crimson in the setting sun.
Pancratius. A fearful symbol burns upon it!