Ha! they are upon me! On I on! They are at last but a sword's length from me! Back! Back! into the abyss, ye sons of freedom. Back! Rushing on of man, confusion, struggle. * * * * * Another part of the wall of the castle. Men in the distance in line of battle. Jacob is seen stretched out upon the wall: the Man, sprinkled with blood, hastily approaches him. THE MAN. Faithful old man, what has happened to you? JACOB. May the devil reward you in hell for your obstinacy, and my dying agonies! So help me God the Lord! Dies. THE MAN (_throwing away his sword_). I will need thee no longer, sword of my fathers! My son is in heaven--the very last of my retainers lies dead at my feet--the craven nobles have deserted their cause; already they kneel before the victor, and sue and howl for mercy! (_Looking in every direction around him._) There still is time; as yet the enemy are not upon me! I will steal a moment's rest before.... Ha! the New Men scale the northern tower; they shout 'Count Henry'--they seek him in every direction! Here I am! here I am! here I am! But you are not to pronounce sentence upon me; the dead have already given in their verdict. I go to meet the judgment and justice of my God! (_He clambers up a steep cliff jutting out over the abyss._) I see thee, my eternity, as thou rapidly floatest on to meet me, black with the shadows of eternal night! shoreless, limitless, infinite! And in the midst of thy rayless gloom, like a burning sun, eternally shining, but illumining nothing, I see my God! (_He takes some steps forward, and stands on the brink of the precipice._) Ha! they run, the New Men--they see me now! Jesus! Mary! O Poetry! be cursed by me, as I shall be to all eternity! Up, ye strong arms! cut through these waves of air! He springs into the abyss. * * * * * The courtyard of the castle. Pancratius, Leonard; Bianchetti stands at the head of a regiment of soldiers. The remaining princes and counts, accompanied by their wives and children, file in before Pancratius. PANCRATIUS. Your name? A COUNT. Christopher von Volsagen. PANCRATIUS. You have pronounced it for the last time! And yours? A PRINCE. Wladislaus, Lord of Schwarzwald. PANCRATIUS. It shall be heard on earth no more! And yours? A BARON. Alexander von Godalberg. PANCRATIUS. It is already erased from the list of the living. Go! BIANCHETTI (_to Leonard_). They have repulsed us for two long months; their arms are wretched, and their accoutrements utterly worthless. LEONARD. Are there many of them left? PANCRATIUS. They are all given over to you for execution, that their blood may flow as an example to the world. But if there is one among them who can tell me where Count Henry hides, he shall have his life for his information! MANY VOICES. He vanished from our sight at last.