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THE ROBBERS.
185

Francis.

Yes, that is all.—It is so,—and illness affects the brain, and gives wild dreams.—What matter what one dreams!—'Tis indigestion makes us dream.—I had a pleasant dream just now. (He sinks down in a faint.)

Daniel.

Good God! What's here! George! Conrad! Bastian! Martin! Where are you all? Give but a sign of life. (He shakes him.) O Lord! they'll say I murdered him.

Francis.

(Disturbed.) Begone! Who shakes me there? Horrible spectre! Are the dead alive?

Daniel.

Merciful God! He has lost his reason!

Francis.

(Recovering himself gradually.) Where am I? Is it you, Daniel? What did I say?—What signifies it?—Don't mind it:—'Twas all a lie, whatever it was.—Come, help me—It was, I think, a fit of giddiness—from want of sleep.

A a
Daniel.
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