The next scene exhibits Firmilian pacing the cloisters. His three friends have died by poison, but he is not able by any means to conjure up a feeling of adequate remorse. He does not see that he is at all responsible in the matter. If he had poured out the wine into their glasses, and looked upon their dying agonies, then, indeed, he might have experienced the desired sensation of guilt. But he did nothing of the kind. They helped themselves, of their own free will and accord, and died when he was out of the way. On the whole, then, his first experiment was a blunder. During his reverie, an old preceptor of his, the Priest of St Nicholas, passes; and certain reminiscences of stripes suggest him as the next victim. The reader will presently see by what means this scheme is carried into execution. Suffice it to say, that the mere anticipation of it sheds a balm upon Firmilian’s disappointed spirit, who, being now fully convinced that in a few days he will be able to realise the tortures of Cain, departs for an interview with Lilian, a young lady for whom he entertains a clandestine attachment. The next scene speaks for itself. EXTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL OF ST NICHOLAS. _Choir heard chaunting within._ _Enter_ FIRMILIAN. How darkly hangs yon cloud above the spire! There’s thunder in the air— What if the flash Should rend the solid walls, and reach the vault Where my terrestrial thunder lies prepared, And so, without the action of my hand, Whirl up those thousand bigots in its blaze, And leave me guiltless, save in the intent? That were a vile defraudment of my aim, A petty larceny o’ the element, An interjection of exceeding wrong! Let the hoarse thunder rend the vault of heaven, Yea, shake the stars by myriads from their boughs, As autumn tempests shake the fruitage down;— Let the red lightning shoot athwart the sky, Entangling comets by their spooming hair, Piercing the zodiac belt, and carrying dread To old Orion, and his whimpering hound;— But let the glory of this deed be mine! ORGAN _and_ CHOIR. Sublimatus ad honorem Nicholai presulis: Pietatis ante rorem Cunctis pluit populis: Ut vix parem aut majorem Habeat in seculis. FIRMILIAN.