Oh, that this were the hand of my Charles! But he is laid far away in the narrow house--he is sleeping the iron sleep--he hears not the voice of my lamentation. Woe is me! to die in the arms of a stranger? No son left--no son left to close my eyes! CHARLES (in violent emotion). It must be so--the moment has arrived. Leave me--(to the ROBBERS.) And yet--can I restore his son to him? Alas! No! I cannot restore him that son! No! I will not think of it. OLD MOOR. Friend! what is that you were muttering? CHARLES. Your son--yes, old man--(faltering) your son--is--lost forever! OLD MOOR. Forever? CHARLES (looking up to heaven in bitter anguish). Oh this once--keep my soul from sinking--sustain me but this once! OLD MOOR. Forever, did you say. CHARLES. Ask no more! I said forever! OLD MOOR. Stranger, stranger! why didst thou drag me forth from the dungeon to remind me of my sorrows? CHARLES. And what if I were now to snatch his blessing?--snatch it like a thief, and steal away with the precious prize? A father's blessing, they say, is never lost. OLD MOOR. And is my Francis too lost? CHARLES (falling on his knees before him). 'Twas I who burst the bars of your dungeon. I crave thy blessing! OLD MOOR (sorrowfully). Oh that thou shouldst destroy the son!--thou, the father's deliverer! Behold! Heaven's mercy is untiring, and we pitiful worms let the sun go down upon our wrath. (Lays his hand upon the head of CHARLES.) Be thou happy, even as thou shalt be merciful! CHARLES (rising much affected). Oh!--where is my manhood? My sinews are unstrung--the sword drops from my hand. OLD MOOR. How lovely a thing it is when brethren dwell together in unity; as the dewdrops of heaven that fall upon the mountains of Zion. Learn to deserve that happiness, young man, and the angels of heaven will sun themselves in thy glory. Let thy wisdom be the wisdom of gray hairs, but let thy heart be the heart of innocent childhood. CHARLES. Oh, for a foretaste of that happiness! Kiss me, divine old man! OLD MOOR (kissing him). Think it thy father's kiss; and I will think I am kissing my son. Canst thou too weep? CHARLES. I felt as if it were my father's kiss! Woe unto me, were they to bring him now! (The companions of SCHWEITZER enter in a silent and mournful procession, hanging down their heads and hiding their faces.) CHARLES. Good heaven! (Retreats horror-struck, and seeks to hide himself. They pass by him his face is averted. Profound silence. They halt.) GRIMM (in a subdued tone). My captain! [CHARLES does not answer and steps farther back.] SCHWARZ. Dear captain! [CHARLES retreats still farther.] GRIMM. 'Tis not our fault, captain! CHARLES (without looking at them). Who are ye? GRIMM. You do not look at us! Your faithful followers. CHARLES. Woe to ye, if ye are faithful to me! GRIMM. The last farewell from your servant Schweitzer!-- CHARLES (starting). Then ye have not found him? SCHWARZ. Found him dead.