miracle. Ascribe not to the vague results of chance, that which belongs
to Providence alone. Ah, here is my kinsman--one, whose anxious fears on
your account, have held him a sleepless watcher through the night.

_Long._ (_with affected fervency_) Florian! a thousand welcomes: the
return of friends at all times is a joy, but when they come through
dangers to our arms, there's transport in the meeting. Tell me--what
strange tale is this I catch imperfectly from every lip? can it be
possible you were assailed last night by ruffians in the wood?

_Flor._ Yes, my dear baron, yes! but morning has chased away night, and
I am out of the wood now; therefore let us banish gloomy retrospections,
and yield the present hour to bliss without alloy.

_De Val._ Not so: in this your friends must claim an interest dearer
than your own: these men of blood shall be pursued to justice, if Alsace
yet hold them.

_Long._ Be that my task. (_to Flor._) Should you recognize their
persons?

_Flo._ Positively no--their disguises were impenetrable.

_Ger._ But their voices, Florian, you heard them speak?

_Flo._ True, sweet Geraldine, a few broken sentences; but their accents
were not framed like thine, to touch the ear but once, yet vibrate on
the memory forever.

_Long._ Indulge my curiosity, how were you preserved?

_Flo._ Well, baron, since you will force me to act the hero in my own
drama, thus runs my story: I was defenceless, helpless, hopeless: two
sturdy knaves had mastered my struggling arms, and the dagger of a third
gleamed against my throat, when suddenly a female form appeared before
us; in an instant, as if by magic, the murderers relaxed their hold,
shuddered, recoiled, uttered cries, and fled the spot, the female mute
and motionless remained.

_Bert._ (_aside to Longueville._) You mark.

_Long._ (_repulsing him._) Silence!

_Flo._ Cowardice is ever found the mate of Cruelty: this stranger was
doubtless regarded by the villains as a preternatural agent, she proved
however, a mere mortal, frail and palpable as ourselves.

_Bert._ (_listening with tremulous attention._) God! living!

_Long._ (_not regarding Bertrand, who has drawn behind._) Whence came
this woman? What was she?

_Flo._ Alas! the most pitiable object in nature--an unhappy maniac; she
resides at the same cottage where I found shelter from the storm.

_Bert._ (_as if electrified by a sudden thought._) Direct me, heaven!

[He glides silently out