“You do not believe me? You think that an old man, with gray hair, and one foot in the grave, and who loves Moritz, could tell you a shameful untruth! I swear to you by the heads of my children, by all that is holy, that Moritz already suffers from an excitement of the brain; and if he does not soon have liberty and mental occupation, it is almost certain that he will become insane.” Almost convulsed with anguish, Marie seized the old man’s hand with fierce passion. “He shall not be crazed,” she shrieked. “He shall not suffer--he shall not be imprisoned and buried in the house of correction on my account. I will rescue him--I and my love! I am prepared to do what the king commands! I will--marry the man--which--my parents have chosen. But--tell me, will he then be free?” “To-day even--in three hours, my poor child!” “Free! And I shall have saved him! Tell me what I have to do. What is the king’s will?” “First sign this document,” said the director, as he drew a second paper. “It runs thus: ‘I, Marie von Leuthen, that of my own free will and consent I will renounce every other engagement, and will marry Herr Ebenstreit von Leuthen, and be a faithful wife to him. I witness with my signature the same.’” “Give it to me quickly,” she gasped. “I will sign it! He must be free! He shall not go mad!” She rapidly signed the paper. “Here is my sentence of death! But he will live! Take it!” “My child,” cried the old man, deeply agitated, “God will be mindful of this sacrifice, and in the hour of death it will beam brightly upon you. You have by this act rescued a noble and excellent being, and when he wins fame from science and art he will owe to you alone the gratitude.” “He shall not thank me!” she whispered. “He shall live and--if he can be happy!--this is all that I ask for! What is there further to be done?” “To announce to your parents in my presence that you will marry Herr Ebenstreit, and let the ceremony take place as soon as possible.” “You swear that he shall then be released? You are an old man--reflect well; you swear to me that as soon as the marriage takes place, Philip Moritz will be free this very day and that he will be reinstated in an honorable, active occupation?” “I swear it to you upon my word of honor, by my hope of reward from above.” “I believe you. Call my parents. But first--you are a father, and love your children well. I have never had a father who loved me, or ever laid his hand upon my head to bless me. You say that you love Moritz as a son! Oh, love me for a moment as your daughter, and bless me!” The old man folded her in his arms, tears streaming down his cheeks. “God bless you, my daughter, as I bless you!” “I dare not tarry,” she shuddered. “Let my parents enter.”