REUBEN. Sister, we are lost! The streets are thronged with panic-stricken folk. Wild rumors fill the air. Two of our tribe, Young Mordecai, as I hear, and old Baruch, Seized by the mob, were dragged towards Eisenach, Cruelly used, left to bleed out their lives, In the wayside ditch at night. This morn, betimes, The iron-hearted Governor of Salza Rides furious into Nordhausen; his horse, Spurred past endurance, drops before the gate. The Council has been called to hear him read The Landgrave's message,--all men say, 'tis death Unto our race. LIEBHAID. Where is our father, Reuben? REUBEN. With Rabbi Jacob. Through the streets they walk, Striving to quell the terror. Ah, too late! Had he but heeded the prophetic voice, This warning angel led to us in vain! LIEBHAID. Brother, be calm. Man your young heart to front Whatever ills the Lord afflicts us with. What does Prince William? Hastes he not to aid? REUBEN. None know his whereabouts. Some say he's held Imprisoned by the Landgrave. Others tell While he was posting with deliverance To Nordhausen, in bloody Schnetzen's wake, He was set upon by ruffians--kidnapped--killed. What do I know--hid till our ruin's wrought. [LIEBHAID swoons.] CLAIRE. Hush, foolish boy. See how your rude words hurt. Look up, sweet girl; take comfort. REUBEN. Pluck up heart: Dear sister, pardon me; he lives, he lives! LIEBHAID. God help me! Shall my heart crack for love's loss That meekly bears my people's martyrdom? He lives--I feel it--to live or die with me. I love him as my soul--no more of that. I am all Israel's now--till this cloud pass, I have no thought, no passion, no desire, Save for my people. Enter SUSSKIND. SUSSKIND. Blessed art thou, my child! This is the darkest hour before the dawn. Thou art the morning-star of Israel. How dear thou art to me--heart of my heart, Mine, mine, all mine to-day! the pious thought, The orient spirit mine, the Jewish soul. The glowing veins that sucked life-nourishment From Hebrew mother's milk. Look at me, Liebhaid, Tell me you love me. Pity me, my God! No fiercer pang than this did Jephthah know. LIEBHAID. Father, what wild and wandering words are these? Is all hope lost?