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THE ROBBERS
199

Moor.

(With stern severity.) And may my curse accompany that prayer, and clog it with a milstone's weight, that it may never reach the mercy-seat of God!—Do you know that dungeon?

Francis.

(To Herman.) Monster! Has your inveterate enmity to our blood, pursued my poor father even to this dungeon?

Herman.

Bravo! Bravo! Where a lie is wanted, the devil will never desert his own.

Moor.

Enough.—Lead this old man a little on into the forest.—I need no father's tears to prompt to what remains. (They lead off the old Count, who is in a state of insensibility.) Approach ye felons! (They form a semicircle round the two brothers, and look sternly on, resting upon their muskets.) Now, not a breath be heard! As sure as I now hope for heaven's mercy—the first who moves his lips to utter a sound, I blow his brains out.—Hush!

Francis.

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