ich thou hast banished from thy sight, where darkness and
never-ending desolation were all my prospect; then would my creative
brain people the silent waste with its own images, and I should have
eternity for leisure to unravel the complicated picture of universal
wretchedness. Or wilt thou make me pass through ever-repeated births
and ever-changing scenes of misery, stage by stage*--to annihilation?

[This and other passages will remind the reader of Cato's soliloquy
"It must be so, Plato; thou reasonest well." But the whole bears a
strong resemblance to Hamlet's "To be or not to be;" and some
passages in Measure for Measure, Act iii, Sc. 1.]

Can I not burst asunder the life-threads woven for me in another world
as easily as I do these? Thou mayest reduce me into nothing; but Thou
canst not take from me this power. (He loads the pistol, and then
suddenly pauses.) And shall I then rush into death from a coward fear
of the ills of life? Shall I yield to misery the palm of victory over
myself? No! I will endure it! (He flings the pistol away.) Misery
shall blunt its edge against my pride! Be my destiny fulfilled! (It
grows darker and darker.)

HERMANN (coming through the forest). Hark! hark! the owl screeches
horribly--the village clock strikes twelve. Well, well--villainy is
asleep--no listeners in these wilds. (He goes to the castle and
knocks.) Come forth, thou man of sorrow! tenant of the miserable
dungeon! thy meal awaits thee.

CHARLES (stepping gently back, unperceived). What means this?

VOICE (from within the castle). Who knocks? Is it you, Hermann, my
raven?

HERMANN. Yes, 'tis Hermann, your raven. Come to the grating and eat.
(Owls are screeching.) Your night companions make a horrid noise, old
man! Do you relish your repast?

VOICE. Yes--I was very hungry. Thanks to thee, thou merciful sender of
ravens, for this thy bread in the wilderness! And how is my dear child,
Hermann?

HERMANN. Hush!--hark!--A noise like snoring! Don't you hear something?

VOICE. What? Do you hear anything?

HERMANN. 'Tis the whistling of the wind through the crannies of the
tower--a serenading which makes one's teeth chatter, and one's nails
turn blue. Hark! tis there again. I still fancy I hear snoring. You
have company, old man. Ugh! ugh! ugh!

VOICE. Do you see anything?

HERMANN. Farewell! farewell! this is a fearful place. Go down into
your bole,--thy deliverer, thy avenger is above. Oh! accursed son! (