forlorn hope and shall e'en have a trial. Holloa! Holloa!
Holloa! [_a whistle answers from the right_] Huzza! somebody whistles
from the right! kind lady Fortune! never will I call thee names again.
[_another whistle from the opposite side._] Ha! answered from the left
too! --Lucky fellow!--where are you my dear boys--where are you?

_Florian_ runs toward the right--a very vivid flash of lightning
at that instant gleams upon the path before him, and displays the
figure of a masqued bravo, _Sanguine_, with an unsheathed poniard
advancing between the trees, _Florian_ recoils.

_Flor._ Ha! a man armed and masqued!--perhaps some ruffian!--'sdeath!
I am defenceless, my pistols were left in the saddle!

_Sanguine._ (_advancing_) Who called?

_Flor._ If I return no answer in the darkness I may retreat unseen.

[He creeps silently to the left as the bravo advances.

_San._ Speak! where are you?

[2d bravo emerges from the gloom and directly crosses the path by
which _Florian_ is about to escape.

_Len._ Here! [_Thunder._

[_Florian_ at the second voice discovers himself to be exactly
between the ruffians, and stops.

_Flor._ God!

[He recedes a single step, and strikes his hand against a tree
immediately behind him, the trunk of which is hollowed by time,
and open towards the audience.

Ha! a tree!

[By his touch he discovers the aperture, and glides into the
hollow, at the very instant the two bravoes stepping forward
quickly from either side of the tree, encounter each other's
extended hands in front.

_San._ (_raising his poniard_) Die!

_Len._ Hold! 'tis I--your comrade!

_San._ Why did you not answer before, I took you for--hark?

[_Bertrand_ comes through the trees from the top of the stage.]

_Bert._ Hist! Sanguine?--Lenoire?

_San._ Here!--both of us.

_Bert._ (_coming forward_) Why did you whistle?

_San._ In answer to your call--you hallooed to us.

_Bert._ When?

_San._ But now--a minute back.

_Bert._ I never spoke.

_San._ I'll swear I heard a voice--no doubt then but 'twas he that--

_Bert._ From what quarter did the cry proceed?

_San._ I thought it sounded hereabouts, but the storm kept such a
confounded patter at the time--

_Bert._ Well--let us take the left-hand path; and if we hear the call
repeated--

_San._ Ay!--our daggers meet all questions with a keen reply.

[Exeunt to the left.

_Flor._