"Fool that you were, indeed," replied his brother; "for fool must be every man who takes not warnings repeatedly given. You have had every means; you have had every chance. When I could have struck you in the halls that you had taken from my son,--when I could have punished you at the board, where you had no right to sit but as a guest,--when I could have made you bow the head amongst the soldiery, where you had no place but as a vassal--I forebore; although I knew you to be perfidious, blood-stained, cruel! But yet I hoped that there might be some grace left,--that some redeeming quality--some tardy repentance of error--might give room for clemency,--might excuse, to my own heart, the traitor against my own life, the plotter against my child, the persecutor of my wife, the assassin of a faithful though humble friend. Yet here, even here, to the very last, no touch of remorse has shaken you,--no shame has found place in your bosom. When proofs, as clear as day, have established rights of another and your own guilt, you have resisted, with base and dishonourable subterfuges, the restitution of that to which you had no claim; and have striven to murder, with words, him whom your steel was impotent to reach. The day of mercy and tenderness is past; I have swept from my bosom every feeling of brotherly love--every memory of youthful hours--all the linked tenderness of young affections,--all the sweet bonds of the early heart. I deal with you as traitor, knave, assassin;--false to your brother and your lord; and henceforth, from me, hope neither grace, nor favour, nor compassion. Not as you have done to others will I do to you; but, with the stern and rigid arm of impartial justice, I will strike at proved crimes and wickedness unrepented.--My lord the Emperor," he continued, rising, "I have usurped this seat too long, and crave your gracious pardon; but at your hands I demand this man, my vassal and my liegeman, whom I formerly called brother, to deal with him, in my court, according as justice shall determine; and justice he shall have, even to the uttermost jot, according to the laws and customs of the nobles of this realm." While he spoke, the culprit had remained with his head bent down, and his face hidden; but the moment that the stern words left the Count's lips, his brother made a convulsive motion forward, and grasped his knees, exclaiming, "Ferdinand! Ferdinand!--Have mercy, have pity!"