HERMANN. Here is the sword; and here, too, is a picture which he drew from his breast at the same time. It is the very image of this young lady. "This for my brother Francis," he said; I know not what he meant by it. FRANCIS (feigning astonishment). For me? Amelia's picture? For me-- Charles--Amelia? For me? AMELIA (rushing violently upon HERMANN). Thou venal, bribed impostor! (Lays hold of him.) HERMANN. I am no impostor, noble lady. See yourself if it is not your picture. It may be that you yourself gave it to him. FRANCIS. By heaven, Amelia! your picture! It is, indeed. AMELIA (returns him the picture) My picture, mine! Oh! heavens and earth! OLD M. (screaming and tearing his face.) Woe, woe! my curse drove him into death! He fell in despair! FRANCIS. And he thought of me in the last and parting hour--of me. Angelic soul! When the black banner of death already waved over him he thought of me! OLD M. (stammering like an idiot.) My curse drove him into death. In despair my son perished. HERMANN. This is more than I can bear! Farewell, old gentleman! (Aside to FRANCIS.) How could you have the heart to do this? [Exit in haste.] AMELIA (rises and rushes after him). Stay! stay! What were his last words? HERMANN (calling back). His last sigh was "Amelia." [Exit.] AMELIA. His last sigh was Amelia! No, thou art no impostor. It is too true--true--he is dead--dead! (staggering to and fro till she sinks down)--dead--Charles is dead! FRANCIS. What do I see? What is this line on the sword?--written with blood--Amelia! AMELIA. By him? FRANCIS. Do I see clearly, or am I dreaming? Behold, in characters of blood, "Francis, forsake not my Amelia." And on the other side, "Amelia, all-powerful death has released thee from thy oath." Now do you see--do you see? With hand stiffening in death he wrote it, with his warm life's blood he wrote it--wrote it on the solemn brink of eternity. His spirit lingered in his flight to unite Francis and Amelia. AMELIA. Gracious heaven! it is his own hand. He never loved me. [Rushes off] FRANCIS (stamping the ground). Confusion! her stubborn heart foils all my cunning! OLD MOOR. Woe, woe! forsake me not, my daughter! Francis, Francis! give me back my son! FRANCIS. Who was it that cursed him? Who was it that drove his son into battle, and death, and despair? Oh, he was an angel, a jewel of heaven! A curse on his destroyers! A curse, a curse upon yourself! OLD MOOR (strikes his breast and forehead with his clenched fist). He was an angel, a jewel of heaven! A curse, a curse, perdition, a curse on myself! I am the father who slew his noble son! He loved me even to death! To expiate my vengeance he rushed into battle and into death! Monster, monster that I am! (He rages against himself.)