about you, and darkness blaze
upon your damned soul like a noonday sun.
FRANCIS. But I do not wish to be immortal--let them be so that like;
I have no desire to hinder them. I will force him to annihilate me;
I will so provoke his fury that he may utterly destroy me. Tell me
which are the greatest sins--which excite him to the most terrible
wrath?
MOSER. I know but two. But men do not commit these, nor do men even
dream of them.
FRANCIS. What are they?
MOSER (very significantly). Parricide is the name of the one;
fratricide of the other. Why do you turn so suddenly pale?
FRANCIS. What, old man? Art thou in league with heaven or with hell?
Who told thee that?
MOSER. Woe to him that hath them both upon his soul! It were better
for that man that he had never been born! But be at peace; you have no
longer either a father or a brother!
FRANCIS. Ha! what! Do you know no greater sin? Think again! Death,
heaven, eternity, damnation, hang upon thy lips. Not one greater?
MOSER. No, not one
FRANCIS (falling back in a chair). Annihilation! annihilation!
MOSER. Rejoice, then, rejoice! Congratulate yourself! With all your
abominations you are yet a saint in comparison with a parricide. The
curse that falls upon you is a love ditty in comparison with the curse
that lies upon him. Retribution--
FRANCIS (starting up). Away with thee! May the graves open and swallow
thee ten thousand fathoms deep, thou bird of ill omen! Who bade thee
come here? Away, I tell thee, or I will run thee through and through!
MOSER. Can mere "priestly cant" excite a philosopher to such a pitch of
frenzy? Why not blow it away with a breath of your lips?
(Exit.)
[FRANCIS throws himself about in his chair in
terrible agitation. Profound stillness.]
Enter a SERVANT, hastily
SERVANT. The Lady Amelia has fled. The count has suddenly disappeared.
Enter DANIEL, in great alarm.
DANIEL. My lord, a troop of furious horsemen are galloping down the
hill, shouting "murder! murder!" The whole village is in alarm.
FRANCIS. Quick! let all the bells be tolled--summon everyone to the
chapel--let all fall on their knees--pray for me. All prisoners shall
be released and forgiven--I will make two and threefold restitution to
the poor--I will--why don't you run? Do call in the father confessor,
that he may give me absolution for my sins. What! are you not gone yet?
(The upro
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