_San._ Speak! where are you? [2d bravo emerges from the gloom and directly crosses the path by which _Florian_ is about to escape. _Len._ Here! [_Thunder._ [_Florian_ at the second voice discovers himself to be exactly between the ruffians, and stops. _Flor._ God! [He recedes a single step, and strikes his hand against a tree immediately behind him, the trunk of which is hollowed by time, and open towards the audience. Ha! a tree! [By his touch he discovers the aperture, and glides into the hollow, at the very instant the two bravoes stepping forward quickly from either side of the tree, encounter each other's extended hands in front. _San._ (_raising his poniard_) Die! _Len._ Hold! 'tis I--your comrade! _San._ Why did you not answer before, I took you for--hark? [_Bertrand_ comes through the trees from the top of the stage.] _Bert._ Hist! Sanguine?--Lenoire? _San._ Here!--both of us. _Bert._ (_coming forward_) Why did you whistle? _San._ In answer to your call--you hallooed to us. _Bert._ When? _San._ But now--a minute back. _Bert._ I never spoke. _San._ I'll swear I heard a voice--no doubt then but 'twas he that-- _Bert._ From what quarter did the cry proceed? _San._ I thought it sounded hereabouts, but the storm kept such a confounded patter at the time-- _Bert._ Well--let us take the left-hand path; and if we hear the call repeated-- _San._ Ay!--our daggers meet all questions with a keen reply. [Exeunt to the left. _Flor._ (_extricating himself cautiously from the tree._) Eternal Providence, what have I heard! Murderers then are upon the watch for me! no, no--not for _me_. _I_ cannot be the destined victim. I never yet offended a human being, and fiends themselves would not destroy without a cause for hatred. Heaven guard the threatened one, whoe'er he be! Well, Prudence at least admonishes me to avoid the left-hand path; faith any turn but that must prove the right for _me_. Ha! unless my eyes are cheated by a Will-o'-th'-Wisp, a friendly light now peeps out through yonder coppice. (_looking out_) Perhaps some woodman's hut, with a fresh faggot just crackling on the hearth. Oh, for a seat in such a chimney corner. (_Whistle again at a distance_) I hear you, gentlemen, a pleasant ramble to you. Adieu, Messieurs! space be between us! yours is a left-handed destiny; I'll seek mine to the right. [_Exit._ SCENE V.--_The outside of a cottage in the wood; a light burning in a casement._ Enter _Monica_, supporting herself on a crutch, and carrying a basket of flax. _Mon._ Praise to the virgin! my old limbs have reached their resting place at last: what a tempest! my new cardinal is quite drenched. Well, I've kept the flax dry, however, that's some comfort, (_strikes against the door._) Ho, there, within--open quickly. [The door opens, and a female wildly dressed, appears; she catches Monica's hand with affection, and kisses it.]