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THE ROBBERS.

Amelia.

To-morrow I hope to do so.——Shall we continue our walk, Sir?

Moor.

So soon? Whose picture is that on the right hand? He has, methinks, a countenance that bespeaks misfortune.——

Amelia.

The picture on the left is the Count's son—he who is now master here.

Moor.

His only son?

Amelia.

Come, come away——

Moor.

But whose is that picture on the right hand?

Amelia.

Won't you walk into the garden? Come—

Moor.

But that picture on the right hand?—You are in tears, Amelia?

(Amelia goes out with precipitation.)

Moor.

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