the most--endured the worst of all.
Come--to his dwelling let us all repair,
And bid the Savior of our country hail!

[_Exeunt omnes_.]

SCENE II

_Interior of_ TELL's _cottage. A fire burning on the hearth. The open door
shows the scene outside._

HEDWIG, WALTER, _and_ WILLIAM

HEDWIG.

My own dear boys! your father comes today;
He lives, is free, and we, and all are free;
The country owes its liberty to him!

WALTER.
And I, too, mother, bore my part in it!
I must be named with him. My father's shaft
Ran my life close, but yet I never flinch'd.

HEDWIG (_embracing him_).

Yes, yes, thou art restored to me again!
Twice have I seen thee given to my sad eyes,
Twice suffered all a mother's pangs for thee!
But this is past--I have you both, boys, both!
And your dear father will be back today.

[_A monk appears at the door_.]

WILLIAM.

See, mother, yonder stands a holy friar;
He comes for alms, no doubt.

HEDWIG.

Go lead him in,
That we may give him cheer, and make him feel
That he has come into the house of joy.

[_Exit and returns immediately with a cup_.]

WILLIAM (_to the monk_).

Come in, good man. Mother will give you food!

WALTER.

Come in and rest, then go refresh'd away!

MONK (_glancing round in terror, with unquiet looks_).

Where am I? In what country? Tell me.

WALTER.

How!
Are you bewildered, that you know not where?
You are at Buerglen, in the land of Uri,
Just at the entrance of the Shechenthal.

MONK. (_to_ HEDWIG).

Are you alone? Your husband, is he here?

HEDWIG.

I am expecting him. But what ails you, man?
There's something in your looks, that omens ill!
Whoe'er you be, you are in want--take that.

[_Offers him the cup_.]

MONK.

Howe'er my sinking heart may yearn for food,
Nought will I taste till you have promised first--

HEDWIG.

Touch not my garments, come not near me, monk!
You must stand farther back, if I'm to hear you.

MONK.

Oh, by this hearth's bright hospitable blaze,
By your dear children's heads, which I embrace--

[_Grasps the boys_.]

HEDWIG.

Stand back, I say! What is your purpose, man?
Back from my boys! You are no monk,--no, no,
Beneath the robe you wear peace should abide,
But peace abides not in such looks as yours.

MONK.

I am the wretchedest of living men.