ere, face to face, I met the viceroy. He
Alone with me--and I myself alone--
Mere man to man, and near us the abyss.
And when his lordship had perused my face,
And knew the man he had severely fined
On some most trivial ground not long before;
And saw me, with my sturdy bow in hand,
Come striding towards him, then his cheek grew pale,
His knees refused their office, and I thought
He would have sunk against the mountain side.
Then, touched with pity for him, I advanced,
Respectfully, and said, "'Tis I, my lord."
But ne'er a sound could he compel his lips
To frame an answer. Only with his hand
He beckoned me in silence to proceed.
So I passed on, and sent his train to seek him.

HEDWIG.
He trembled then before you? Woe the while
You saw his weakness; that he'll not forgive.

TELL.
I shun him, therefore, and he'll not seek me.

HEDWIG.
But stay away to day. Go hunting rather!

TELL.
What do you fear?

HEDWIG.
I am uneasy. Stay.

TELL.
Why thus distress yourself without a cause?

HEDWIG.
Because there is no cause. Tell, Tell! stay here!

TELL.
Dear wife, I gave my promise I would go.

HEDWIG.
Must you,--then go. But leave the boys with me.

WALTER.
No, mother dear, I'm going with my father.

HEDWIG.
How, Walter! Will you leave your mother then?

WALTER.
I'll bring you pretty things from grandpapa.

[Exit with his father.

WILHELM.
Mother, I'll stay with you!

HEDWIG (embracing him).
Yes, yes! thou art
My own dear child. Thou'rt all that's left to me.

[She goes to the gate of the court, and looks anxiously
after TELL and her son for a considerable time.

SCENE II.

A retired part of the Forest. Brooks dashing in spray
over the rocks.

Enter BERTHA in a hunting dress. Immediately afterwards RUDENZ.

BERTHA.
He follows me. Now to explain myself!

RUDENZ (entering hastily).
At length, dear lady, we have met alone
In this wild dell, with rocks on every side,
No jealous eye can watch our interview.
Now let my heart throw off this weary silence.

BERTHA.
But are you sure they will not follow us?

RUDENZ.
See, yonder goes the chase. Now, then, or never!
I must avail me of the precious moment,--
Must hear my doom decided by thy lips,
Though it should part me from thy side forever.
Oh, do not arm that gentle face of thine
With looks so stern and harsh! Who--who am I,
That dare aspire so high as unto thee?
Fame hath not stamped me y