THE BAPTIZED (_aside_). May you soon fall into a like ruin, and the dogs tear the flesh from your rotting corpse!--(_Aloud._) I beg that your excellency will now permit me to return, that I may give an account of my embassy! THE MAN. You may say that, believing you to be a spy, I forcibly detained you.--(_Looking around him._) The tumult and noise of the carousal is dying away behind us; before us there is nothing to be seen but fir and pine trees bathed in the crimson rays of sunset. THE BAPTIZED. Clouds are gathering thick and fast over the tops of the trees: had you not better return to your people, Count Henry, who have been waiting so long for you in the vault of St. Ignatius? THE MAN. Thank you for your exceeding care of me, Sir Jew! But back! I will return and take another look at the festival of the citizens. VOICES (_under the trees_). The children of Ham bid good night to thee, old Sun! VOICE (_on the right_). Here's to thy health, old enemy! Thou hast long driven us on to unpaid work, and awaked us early to unheeded pain! Ha! ha! When thou risest upon us to-morrow, thou wilt find us with fish and flesh: now off to the devil, empty glass! THE BAPTIZED. The bands of peasants are coming this way. THE MAN. You shall not leave me. Place yourself behind this tree trunk, and be silent! CHORUS OF PEASANTS. Forward, forward, under the white tents to meet our brethren! Forward, forward, under the green shade of the beeches, to rest, to sleep, to pleasant sunset greetings! Our maidens there await us; there await us our slaughtered oxen, the old teams of our ploughs! A VOICE. I am pulling and dragging him on with all my strength--now he turns and defends himself--down! down among the dead! VOICE OF THE DYING NOBLE. My children, pity! pity! SECOND VOICE. Chain me to your land and make me work without pay again--will you! THIRD VOICE. My only son fell under the blows of your lash, old lord; either wake him from the dead, or die to join him! FOURTH VOICE. The children of Ham drink thy health, old lord! they beg thee for forgiveness, lord! CHORUS OF PEASANTS (_passing on out of sight_). A vampire sucked our blood, and lived upon our strength: We have caught the vampire, he shall escape no more! By Satan, thou shalt hang as high as a great lord should! By Satan, thou shalt die high, high above us all! Death to the nobles; tyrants were they all! Drink, food, and rest for us; poor, weary, hungry, thirsty, naked! Your bodies shall lie like sheaves upon our fields; the ruins of your castles fly like chaff beneath the flail of the thresher! VOICE. The children of Ham will dance merrily round their bonfires! THE MAN. I cannot see the face of the murdered noble, they throng so thickly round him. THE BAPTIZED. It is in all probability a friend or relation of your excellency! THE MAN. I despise him, and hate you! Poetry will sweeten all this horror hereafter. Forward, Jew, forward! They disappear among the trees.