). Stay! stay! Fly not
from me, angel of light! (Takes her hand, but lets it fall again
instantly.) Cold! cold and damp! her soul has flown! (Starting up
suddenly.) God of my Louisa! Mercy! Mercy for the most accursed of
murderers! Such was her dying prayer! How fair, how lovely even in
death! The pitying destroyer has touched gently on those heavenly
features. That sweetness was no mask--the hand of death even has not
removed it! (After a pause.) But how is this? why do I feel nothing.
Will the vigor of my youth save me? Thankless care! That shall it not.
(He seizes the glass.)

SCENE VIII.

FERDINAND, the PRESIDENT, WORM, and SERVANTS, who all rush in alarm
into the room. Afterwards MILLER, with a crowd, and OFFICERS of
justice, who assemble in the background.

PRESIDENT (an open letter in his hand). My son! what means this? I
never can believe----

FERDINAND (throwing the glass at his feet). Convince thyself, murderer!
(The PRESIDENT staggers back. All stand speechless. A dreadful pause.)

PRESIDENT. My son! Why hast thou done this?

FERDINAND (without looking at him). Why, to be sure I ought first to
have asked the statesman whether the trick suited his cards. Admirably
fine and skilful, I confess, was the scheme of jealousy to break the bond
of our hearts! The calculation shows a master-mind; 'twas pity only that
indignant love would not move on wires like thy wooden puppets.

PRESIDENT (looking round the circle with rolling eyes). Is there no one
here who weeps for a despairing father?

MILLER (calling behind the scenes). Let me in! For God's sake, let
me in!

FERDINAND. She is now a saint in heaven! Her cause is in the hands of
another! (He opens the door for MILLER, who rushes in, followed by
officers of justice and a crowd of people.)

MILLER (in the most dreadful alarm). My child! My child! Poison, they
cry--poison has been here! My daughter! Where art thou?

FERDINAND (leading him between the PRESIDENT and LOUISA'S corpse). I am
innocent. Thank this man for the deed.

MILLER (throwing himself on the body). Oh, Jesus!

FERDINAND. In few words, father!--they begin to be precious to me. I
have been robbed of my life by villanous artifice--robbed of it by you!
How I may stand with God I tremble to think, but a deliberate villain I
have never been! Be my final judgment what it will, may it not fall on
thee! But I have committed murder! (In a loud and fearful voice.) A
murder whose wei