as arrested, accused, criminally prosecuted, degraded,
and--mark this--transported beyond the frontier, as a special favor. My
estates were confiscated to the minister, and Amelia remained in the
clutches of the tiger, where she weeps and mourns away her life, while
my vengeance must keep a fast, and crouch submissively to the yoke of
despotism.

SCHWEITZER (rising and whetting his sword). That is grist to our mill,
captain! There is something here for the incendiaries!

CHARLES (who has been walking up and down in violent agitation, with a
sudden start to the ROBBERS). I must see her. Up! collect your
baggage--you'll stay with us, Kosinsky! Quick, pack up!

THE ROBBERS. Where to? What?

CHARLES. Where to? Who asks that question? (Fiercely to SCHWEITZER)
Traitor, wouldst thou keep me back? But by the hope for heaven!

SCHWEITZER. I, a traitor? Lead on to hell and I will follow you!

CHARLES (falling on his neck). Dear brother! thou shalt follow me. She
weeps, she mourns away her life. Up! quickly! all of you! to
Franconia! In a week we must be there.
[Exeunt.]

ACT IV.

SCENE I.--Rural scenery in the neighborhood of
CHARLES VON MOOR'S castle.

CHARLES VON MOOR, KOSINSKY, at a distance.

CHARLES. Go forward, and announce me. You remember what you have to
say?

KOSINSKY. You are Count Brand, you come from Mecklenburg. I am your
groom. Do not fear, I shall take care to play my part. Farewell!
[Exit.]

CHARLES. Hail to thee, Earth of my Fatherland (kisses the earth.)
Heaven of my Fatherland! Sun of my Fatherland! Ye meadows and hills,
ye streams and woods! Hail, hail to ye all! How deliciously the
breezes are wafted from my native hills? What streams of balmy perfume
greet the poor fugitive! Elysium! Realms of poetry! Stay, Moor, thy
foot has strayed into a holy temple. (Comes nearer.)

See there! the old swallow-nests in the castle yard!---and the little
garden-gate!--and this corner of the fence where I so often watched in
ambuscade to teaze old Towzer!--and down there in the green valley,
where, as the great Alexander, I led my Macedonians to the battle of
Arbela; and the grassy hillock yonder, from which I hurled the Persian
satrap--and then waved on high my victorious banner! (He smiles.) The
golden age of boyhood lives again in the soul of the outcast. I was
then so happy, so wholly, so cloudlessly happ