MR. ANHALT. Should I find you to be the person whom I have long been in search of, your history is not altogether unknown to me. AGATHA. “That you have been in search of!” Who gave you such a commission? MR. ANHALT. A man, who, if it so prove, is much concerned for your misfortunes. AGATHA. How? Oh, Sir! tell me quickly—Whom do you think to find in me? MR. ANHALT. Agatha Friburg. AGATHA. Yes, I am that unfortunate woman; and the man who pretends to take concern in my misfortunes is——Baron Wildenhaim——he who betrayed me, abandoned me and my child, and killed my parents.—He would now repair our sufferings with this purse of gold. [_Takes out the purse_.] Whatever may be your errand, Sir, whether to humble, or to protect me, it is alike indifferent. I therefore request you to take this money to him who sent it. Tell him, my honour has never been saleable. Tell him, destitute as I am, even indigence will not tempt me to accept charity from my seducer. He despised my heart—I despise his gold.—He has trampled on me—I trample on his representative. [_Throws the purse on the ground_.] MR. ANHALT. Be patient—I give you my word, that when the Baron sent this present to an unfortunate woman, for whom her son had supplicated, he did not know that woman was Agatha. AGATHA. My son? what of my son? MR. ANHALT. Do not be alarmed—The Baron met with an affectionate son, who begged for his sick mother, and it affected him. AGATHA. Begged of the Baron! of his father! MR. ANHALT. Yes; but they did not know each other; and the mother received the present on the son’s account. AGATHA. Did not know each other? Where is my son? MR. ANHALT. At the Castle. AGATHA. And still unknown? MR. ANHALT. Now he is known—an explanation has taken place;—and I am sent here by the Baron, not to a stranger, but to Agatha Friburg—not with gold! his commission was—“do what your heart directs you.” AGATHA. How is my Frederick? How did the Baron receive him? MR. ANHALT. I left him just in the moment the discovery was made. By this time your son is, perhaps, in the arms of his father. AGATHA. Oh! is it possible that a man, who has been twenty years deaf to the voice of nature, should change so suddenly? MR. ANHALT. I do not mean to justify the Baron, but—he has loved you—and fear of his noble kindred alone caused his breach of faith to you. AGATHA. But to desert me wholly and wed another—