nd before whom? Have I not felt, during the few hours
that the count has been within these walls as if a spy from hell were
gliding at my heels. Methinks I should know him! There is something so
lofty, so familiar, in his wild, sunburnt features, which makes me
tremble. Amelia, too, is not indifferent towards him! Does she not
dart eager, languishing looks at the fellow looks of which she is so
chary to all the world beside? Did I not see her drop those stealthy
tears into the wine, which, behind my back, he quaffed so eagerly that
he seemed to swallow the very glass? Yes, I saw it--I saw it in the
mirror with my own eyes. Take care, Francis! Look about you! Some
destruction-brooding monster is lurking beneath all this! (He stops,
with a searching look, before the portrait of CHARLES.)

His long, crane-like neck--his black, fire-sparkling eyes--hem! hem!--
his dark, overhanging, bushy eyebrows. (Suddenly starting back.)
Malicious hell! dost thou send me this suspicion? It is Charles! Yes,
all his features are reviving before me. It is he! despite his mask!
it is he! Death and damnation! (Goes up and down with agitated steps.)
Is it for this that I have sacrificed my nights--that I have mowed down
mountains and filled up chasms? For this that I have turned rebel
against all the instincts of humanity? To have this vagabond outcast
blunder in at last, and destroy all my cunningly devised fabric. But
gently! gently! What remains to be done is but child's play. Have I
not already waded up to my very ears in mortal sin? Seeing how far the
shore lies behind me, it would be madness to attempt to swim back. To
return is now out of the question. Grace itself would be beggared, and
infinite mercy become bankrupt, were they to be responsible for all my
liabilities. Then onward like a man. (He rings the bell.) Let him be
gathered to the spirit of his father, and now come on! For the dead I
care not! Daniel! Ho! Daniel! I'd wager a trifle they have already
inveigled him too into the plot against me! He looks so full of
mystery!

Enter DANIEL.

DANIEL. What is your pleasure, my master?

FRANCIS. Nothing. Go, fill this goblet with wine, and quickly! (Exit
DANIEL.) Wait a little, old man! I shall find you out! I will fix my
eye upon you so keenly that your stricken conscience shall betray itself
through your mask! He shall die! He is but a sorry bungler who leaves
his work half finished, and then looks on idly, trusti