"Just as the masked man is rushing into the chamber of the sick woman, there is a violent knocking at Dr. Grey's door. 'Who is there? Open in the name of the law!' It is the father, a constable and two police-officers. The doctor is obliged to admit that he has given shelter to the two fugitives; the father declares that he will carry his daughter away instantly. The doctor opposes in the name of humanity and his wife; the father insists; the doctor then informs him of the condition of the sick woman, and both beg him to be merciful to her. Fury of the father, who completely ignores the situation. At that moment, the masked man comes joyfully out of the sickroom and is aghast to see the father of the woman he has carried off; the father leaps at his throat and demands his arrest. The noise of the struggle reaches the _accouchée_, who comes out half-fainting and falls at her father's feet: she vows she will follow her lover everywhere, even to prison; that he is her husband in the eyes of men. The father again and more energetically calls into requisition the assistance of the constable and takes his daughter in his arms to carry her away. The doctor and his wife implore in vain. The masked man comes forward in his turn ... and the act finishes there; stay, I have outlined the last scene ... Let us suppose that the masked man has assumed the name of Robertson, that the father is called Da Sylva and the young lady Caroline:-- "ROBERTSON, _putting his hand on Da Sylva's shoulder._--Leave her alone. CAROLINE.--Oh, father!... my Robertson!... DA SYLVA.--Thy Robertson, indeed!... Look, all of you and I will show you who thy Robertson is ... Off with that mask." (He snatches it from Robertson's face).--"Look he is ..." "ROBERTSON.--Silence; in the name of and for the sake of your daughter." "You understand," Beudin went on "he quickly puts his mask on again, so quickly that nobody, except the audience whom he is facing, has time to see his countenance." "Well; after that?" "After?" "You are right," says Da Sylva; "she alone shall know who you are.... This man." "Well?" asks Caroline anxiously. "This man," says Da Sylva leaning close to his daughter's ear; "this man is the executioner!" "Caroline shrieks and falls. That is the end of the prologue." "Wait a bit," I said, "surely I know something similar to that ... yes ... no. Yes, in the _Chronicles of the Canongate!_" "Yes; it was, in fact, Walter Scott's novel which gave us the idea for our play." "Well, but what then? There is no drama in the remainder of the novel." "No.... So we depart completely from it here." "Good! And when we leave it what follows?"