Chapter V: Act II

SCENE I.--_An apartment in the_ baron's _chateau. A door in the back scene, leading to a chamber._

_Enter_ Christopher, _hastily, through the stage door._

_Chris._ Not here either!--no where to be met with! Bless my soul? now I am in the house, I might as well be out of it; for I can't find aunt or cousin; and the fine company here seem all out of their senses. One pushes me, and t'other pushes me, and till I'm sure I'm fine company myself, it wont do for me to push again. Countess?--where are you, aunt countess? Do come, and make me fine company! Oh lord! I'll try this door (_door in the back scene_) and I should be half afraid she kept out of the way because she was asham'd of me, only I know aunt has no pride--not a bit of the gentlewoman about her.

[_Exit affectedly into the chamber._

_Enter countess_ Roland, _leading in_ Ulrica _through the stage door._

_Coun._ There! and now, whilst I return, and consult with the baron, I'll take care nobody consults with you. [_Taking the key out of the stage door._

_Ul._ Heavens! what have I done, aunt?

_Coun._ What have you not done? And till you're wife to Ravensburg this and the adjoining chamber shall be your prison--it shall! for even if the great young count Roland were to offer marriage, who knows but you might write to him about "humble sphere," and "early education." Write! nonsense! Why here I am who never wrote a letter in my life.

_Ul._ This my prison! Aunt, my dear aunt, if I have long sickened at this scene of splendid misery, and sighed for your sister's calm cottage in Franconia, what must I now, when poor Agnes, and this frightful tribunal----

_Coun._ My sister's cottage!

_Ul._ And my cousin Christopher----

_Coun._ How's again! again insult me with this low relationship! I'm gone, madam (_Christopher re-enters behind, smiles, rubs his hands, and stops at the door, and listens_)--gone to prepare for your marriage with a man of my own rank, madam. And once more take notice, I disclaim, I disown the whole Franconia family; and if any poor cousin, niece, or nephew attempt to hang on me, depend on't they shall hang on something more substantial. Oh! by way of example, only let me catch one of them--just that this frightful tribunal may catch, rack, and torture him into confession of his own and your presumption. [_Exit at the stage door, banging and locking it after her._

_Chris._ (_groaning loudly_) Oh! h! h!

_Ul._ (_half turning round._) A man! a strange--help!

_Chris._ (_advancing and trying to stop her mouth_) Don't!

_Ul._ (_breaking from him without seeing his face_) Aunt! come back, aunt!

_Coun._ (_without_) Not I, I promise you.

_Chris._ Thank ye, thank ye kindly, aunt! (_fanning himself with his hat_)--and if this be your style of providing for your family, thank you also for disowning the relationship; but you, cousin, though you are going to be married to a man of rank, won't you take pity on your old play-fellow, Christopher, who having heard of aunt's promotion, came, in hopes of getting into high life; and who certainly will get into high life (_pulling up his collar_) if you don't keep him from being caught, racked, and tortured by----Oh! Lord!

_Ul._ Christopher! cousin, Christopher! and come to see his aunt, the countess! Very well, sir; you didn't come to see Ulrica, then!

_Chris._ Eh!

_Ul._ You didn't come to see her who is already caught, locked up, because she don't choose an unequal marriage; and who, notwithstanding her dress and appearance, is the same simple-hearted creature you left her, sir; but since you're altered, sir, since you forgot your former humble----

_Chris._ (_half crying_) I don't--I'm as simple as ever. And if I thought you were not joking--but you are--(_looking close in her face_)--yes--no--(_Ulrica smiles_)--she's the same kind-hearted--

_Ul._ I am; and were we but in our native village, Christopher----

_Chris._ We'd send for a priest, buy a little land, make money, make love, and have such a happy fire-side!

DUET--_Christopher_, _Ulrica._

_Chris._ When a little farm we keep,
And have little girls and boys,
With little pigs and sheep,
To make a little noise----
Oh! what happy, merry days we'll see!

_Ul._ Then we'll keep a little maid,
And a little man beside;
And a little horse and pad,
To take a little ride,
With the children sitting on our knee.

_Chris._ The boys I'll conduct,

_Ul._ The girls I'll instruct;

_Chris._ In reading I'll engage,
Each son is not deficient;

_Ul._ In music I presage,
Each girl is a proficient.

_Chris._ Now, boy, your A, B, C!

_Ul._ Now, girl, your solfa!

[_Ulrica is supposed to teach a girl to sing, and Christopher to teach a boy to read._]

_Both._ When a little farm we keep, &c.

_Chris._ Charming! delightful!

_Ul._ Very! only you forget one thing: you forget we are both locked up; and if aunt finds us together, it will make bad so much worse. Mercy on me! how could you get in here?

_Chris._ Mercy on me! how am I to get out here? and my time's up with the count!

_Ul._ What count?

_Chris._ Why, mother, who formerly got this ungrateful aunt made housekeeper to old count Roland, you know, has lately got me into the young count's retinue; and he is killing game in the neighbouring woods, and I'm (_noise of unlocking the door_) killed myself! Oh, Lord! there's only one chance: aunt cant know me--she has'nt seen me since I became a man; but then, _you_, cousin! if I _am_ a man! shall I, like a base selfish--No--it mounts!--the Roland blood mounts high within me. [_Noise._

_Ul._ Hush! I rely on him they select to be my husband. His heart's elsewhere; and by securing your own escape now, you may hereafter effect mine. [_Stage door opens._] The baron! our enraged host! Now! what's to be done now? [_Christopher retires up the stage._

_Enter_ Baron Ravensburg _and_ Oliver.

_Oliver._ I tell you, my lord, I'm sure Agnes will be found innocent--but I'm silent.

_Baron._ Be silent, then. And for you, madam, I came to tell you that the priest is sent for, and my son is sent for; and I shan't stir out of this room till I witness the glorious union of the Rolands and the Ravensburgs.

_Ul._ (_archly._) Your son! your son is absent, then!

_Bar._ He is: but the countess has undertaken to see him brought home; and I don't know who she alludes to, but it seems she talks of catching more troublesome people. [_Here Ulrica makes signs to Christopher to be gone, and he steals towards the stage door, behind the baron and Oliver_] And so, Oliver, bring me a chair, old Oliver; [Oliver _gives him one_] for here I'll sit.--[_Christopher opens the door, and is going, when the baron hears him._]--Why, what's that? [_In his agitation Christopher turns sharply round, and faces the baron, holding the door wide open in his hand._] Zounds! where do you come from?

_Chris._ Come! I come from---- [_Amazed._

_Bar._ Ay, what brings you, sir? And don't--don't stand staring there with the door open. Either (_beating his cane violently against the floor_) either come in or go out.

_Chris._ Out, if you please, sir. [_Exit._

_Bar._ (_pulling him back_) Stop; this won't do. How came you in my house?

_Chris._ (_confused_) Came! why I came from young count Roland, sir.

_Bar._ Oh! you want to see the countess, then.

_Chris._ Thank ye, I have seen her; and as her answer isn't at all satisfactory, I hope shortly to return, and take something much more satisfactory. _Looking significantly at_ Ulrica, _and going_, Ulrica _nods in return._

_Ol._ (_coming between him and the door._) I dare say you do; but--he! he! he! the little old butler will prevent you. My lord, just now, instead of a message from count Roland, this fellow talk'd of your keeping low company.--(_Christopher shakes his head to stop him._) You did! you actually hinted, that one of our fine ladies was no better than old Winifred Winbuttle, a housekeeper--

_Bar._ Dolt! blockhead! (_to Christopher_) when, except this untitled girl, there is not one plain lady, no, nor one real gentlewoman in the whole party; and she, as heiress and sole relation of the high-born countess Roland----

_Chris._ The sole relation of who?

_Bar._ The high-born countess Roland!

_Chris._ (_eagerly._) What! you havn't heard--the heiress dare not even hint--Oh ho! (_looking at Ulrica, who beckons him to go._) But I won't stay, else I could tell you, that if you and your son had purses as long as the dead pedigree of the Ravensburgs, they wouldn't be half long enough for the live pedigree of the _high-born_ countess Roland! and as her relations will shortly be yours, I'll send express for some few dozens from Franconia who'll now have two strings to their bow; for if cousin Winifred Winbuttle don't keep open house for them, ecod! cousin baron Ravensburg must. And so, yours my lord, yours madam: and there--(_whispering Oliver_)--there's a Roland for your Oliver, my little twaddling old butler. [_Exit._

_Bar._ Send express for a few dozens! Without there! Stop that scoundrel! Ulrica, what is all this? Speak, I insist on an explanation.

_Ul._ So do I, Sir--I insist upon an explanation, and I will have one, if I follow that impudent fellow to the world's end.

_Bar._ Stay where you are. In, in, if you please.

_Ul._ (_trying to pass him._) Out, out, if you please. (_mimicking Christopher._)

_Bar._ Oliver, be you her guard, whilst I pursue this false, this infamous----

_Ul._ (_getting between him and the door._) Stay.

SONG--_Ulrica._

I.

Sure woman's to be pitied
Whenever she's committed,
For being fond and gay;
And those who cry out "shame!"
Are very much to blame--
That's all I say.

II.

I never could discover
Why list'ning to a lover
Throughout the live-long day,
Should be miscall'd offence.
It is not common sense--
That's all I say.

III.

But though the old and haughty
Pretend 'tis very naughty,
They think a different way;
For this, I know, is true,
They do as others do--
That's all I say.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE II.--_A vaulted cavern belonging to the_ free knights--_nearly in the centre a large brazen door, in the archway a practicable parapet, and occasional apertures in the broken fragments of the rock._

_Enter_ Everard, _hastily through the doorway._

_Ever._ This, this the far-fam'd court so long extolled for fair investigation? Poor Agnes Lindorf! unheard thou art condemned, prejudged, thy judges will decree thee guilty, and this, thy trial, is no more than the mere mockery of justice! But I've held converse with the young lord Ravensburg, and if he follow an old soldier's counsel, there may be still some hope, that the accused shall vanquish the accuser.

_Enter_ Zastrow _from the door, bearing Agnes, who is senseless, in his arms--he places her on a piece of broken rock near the wing._

Speak, Zastrow--is she condemn'd?

_Zast._ No. Charge following charge, her boasted firmness forsook her; and fainting, as supposed, from conscious guilt, she was dismissed; but soon her sentence will be known, and all foresee the vengeance that awaits the count Manfredi's daughter.

_Ever._ Manfredi's daughter!

_Zast._ Ay, that Italian traitor, who, on the Danube's banks destroyed the treasure he was bound to guard, and she (_turning towards Agnes_) imbibing the same kindred hate for those whom loyalty should make her love, late at the banquet of the baron Ravensburg, infus'd a poisonous mixture in the draught of our lov'd prince: but he detecting her intent, the death, thank heaven, she design'd for him, will soon recoil upon herself.

_Ever._ And he, the prince, is her accuser? Mark you that?

_Zast._ I do.

_Ever._ Then mark, (_pointing to Agnes_) is that the countenance of guilt?

_Zast._ How, Everard! when even Ravensburg, her benefactor's son, now loudly in the open court took part against her. (_Everard shows emotion._) He did; and thereby so increased the prince's admiration----Look! he's here! _Enter_ Ravensburg, _hastily, in the dress of a free knight, with a paper in his hand, followed by two free_ knights.

_Rav._ Where is the traitress? Where the daughter of Manfredi?

_Ag._ (_starting up._) That voice! still, still does it pursue me? My lord! (_looking at him with a hope that he'll befriend her_)

_Rav._ Stand off!

_Ag._ This! this from Ravensburg! (_bursts into tears_)

_Rav._ 'Tis past--it is pronounced! Read--read that awful warrant.

_Ag._ (_taking it, but not looking at it._) 'Tis past indeed! but e'er I meet my death, I swear by Him who shall for ever live, that I would rather be the culprit thus condemn'd, than those who have condemn'd me: for they, not I, must answer for a life unjustly sacrificed? and when deprived of utterance and of sense, think not 'twas consciousness of guilt o'ercame me! No, 'twas to hear myself accused by him, who, still persisting in his cruelty----why--wherefore should I live! since he, since he is lost: I am most thankful for this final--(_casting her eyes on the warrant._) Heavens! how! (_reading it apart._) "Perceiving you were prejudged, I opposed, to save you. The free knight who conducts you to the solitary cell, from which 'tis meant that you should ne'er return, knows of a secret passage. Confide in him, and your devoted Ravensburg."

_Rav._ (_fiercely._) Well! have you read?

_Ag._ (_with stiffled feeling._) I have, and I repeat, I am most thankful, Sir.

_Rav._ (_to Everard._) Conduct her to her cell--you know the rest--away, and quick return; for as his highness passes from the court, he must be told the traitress is secured.

_Ever._ He shall, my Lord.

_Rav._ Away! (_Agnes is about to thank Ravensburg, by kneeling to him, when by action he recalls her recollection._) Away! (_Everard and Agnes exeunt--Zastrow and other knights are following--Ravensburg stops them._) Let none follow; he is alone sufficient to secure a willing victim.

_Zast._ (_observing._) Ha!

_Enter_ prince _and train through the doorway._

_Prin._ (_looking earnestly around._) How! gone! 'tis well! for she recalls such dreadful scenes, that, coward-like, I sicken at her sight.--But whither gone? Who was her guard?

_Rav._ A loyal and a chosen knight; they know him well, and saw him lead her to her cell.

_Zast._ We did, my liege; but 'tis my duty to impart, as one of equal loyalty and honour----

_Rav._ (_hastily interrupting him._) Peace! he returns!

Everard _re-enters._

_Prin._ (_to Everard._) Now, to your office, Sir! Speak, is the traitress safe?

_Ever._ Quite, quite safe, my liege.

[_Looking at Ravensburg, who shows joy, aside._

_Zast._ (_aside to the prince._) My liege, you are deceiv'd. Mark'd you their dark mysterious looks?

_Prin._ How!--more conspiracy? Can none, not e'en free knights be trusted? And I, who would avoid the hated sight--must I, myself--Well 'tis but one desperate effort more. Come, follow.

[_Music._ Agnes _is seen escaping through the apertures: she makes signs to_ Ravensburg, _who, unseen by the prince and train, returns them._ Everard _partakes in their joy. The prince commands all to march._

[_Exeunt._

SCENE III.--_A wood.--Enter_ Falconers, _severally._

_1st. Falc._ Where is my lord? Where is count Roland?

_2d. Falc._ Giving his orders for tomorrow's journey.

_1st. Falc._ What, our departure then is fixed?

_2d. Falc._ It is: tomorrow we set off for Corbey, thereto sojourn awhile with my lord's friend, Marquis Alberti.

_Enter count_ Roland, _followed by two_ falconers.

_Count._ Come, brother falconers, break up our rural camp, give the hawks wing, and let another day of pure exhilirating pastime crown those we have enjoyed.

SONG--_count Roland._

I.

When the morning shines forth, and the zephyr's calm gale
Carries fragrance and health over mountain and dale,
Follow me, brother falconers, and share in those joys,
Which envy disturbs not, nor grandeur destroys:
Up hill, down the valley, all dangers we'll dare,
While our coursers spurn earth, and our hawks sail in air.
Dash on, my brave birds,
Your quarry pursue;
"Strike, strike!" be the words.
Lalleugh! lalleugh!

II.

O'er plain, heath, and woodland, with rapture we roam,
Yet, returning, still find the dear pleasure at home;
Where inspiring good humour gives honesty grace
And the heart speaks content in the smiles of the face.
Dash on, &c.

_Count._ To day concludes our sylvan holiday. (_going._) Why, who comes here? As I live, my merry falconer, Christopher! And I'm impatient to be told the issue of his curious enterprise. Ha, ha, ha! to know if he's related to the house of Roland--

_Enter_ Christopher.

Well, Christopher, am I to call you cousin?

_Chris._ You are, my Lord; and with your leave I sha'n't copy our aunt the countess's example, and not notice those beneath us. No. How d'ye do, my fine fellows--how d'ye do?

_Bowing foppishly to the falconers._

_Count._ Aunt!--ridiculous! My uncle had no wife. I've heard indeed, he had a consequential housekeeper, whose niece, Ulrica, I once saw.

_Chris._ What, you've seen Ulrica? So have I, my Lord: and though it's bold work, life's so short, and love's so ridgety, mayn't I----mayn't I see her again, my lord?

_Count._ What, you'd return? (_Christopher nods assent._) Then go--go, and announce to marquis Alberti, that I shall visit him tonight. Mind, tonight! I will hear more of this new aunt of mine.

_Chris._ (_with great glee._) Tonight, my lord? And you, and you---- [_To the falconers._

_Count._ And all. And therefore, till we meet at Corbey Abbey, adieu, most noble cousin Christopher!

_1st._ and _2d. Falc._ (_bowing with ironical respect._) Adieu most noble nephew of the countess Roland!

_Chris._ Noble indeed! and give me money and a wife, see if I don't support nobility--I'll give such splendid entertainments----

_Count._ What, and like town-bred, ostentatious nobles; only to splendid company?

_Chris._ Certainly not, my lord; for your splendid company seldom invite again; and therefore I'll stick more to the trading line, where 'tis not giving dinners, but _lending_ them, to be repaid at high bill of fare interest; and so, till we meet at Corbey, adieu, most noble cousin! [_Exit._

_Count._ Now for our sport, which ends not in the field.

GLEE.

I.

When Phoebus' rays no more appear,
And falc'ners further sport decline;
When ploughmen from their fields repair,
And mournful night-birds rend the air,
Then give me wine:
And at home the chase shall reign,
For in wine it lives again.

II.

When loud the chilling tempest blows,
And winter makes all Nature pine;
When lowing herds, and rooks, and crows
Do droop and moan at frost and snows,
Then give me wine, &c.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.--_The garden of Corbey abbey, with practicable gates, over which is a projecting tablet, with an inscription nearly effaced. In the back, an ascending avenue through pine trees: in the centre a statue of Charlemagne; on the base of which is written, "Charlemagne grants the power of sanctuary and of pardon to the abbots of Corbey forever."_

_Enter_ Bernardo _and_ St. Clair _from the abbey._

_St. Clair._ Nay, brother, you're to blame. The church, the court, all Germany, applaud the proud election of the monk Bellarmin; for Corbey abbey was too long disgraced by our late worldly abbot's vices.

_Bern._ And our new abbot will retrieve its fame. The monk Bellarmin has no worldly vice. Speak, for I know him not.

_St. Clair._ Not know Bellarmin!

_Bern._ I know some fourteen years are past, since, in the dead of night, a stranger, faint with terror and distress, implor'd assistance at our abbey-gate, and, in return for our protecting care, since join'd our order. I know, beside, that stranger is Bellarmin. But for the rest, what means that pallid cheek, the hollow eye, and those stern gloomy looks, repelling sympathy, creating strong disgust.

_St. Clair._ Peace, peace, Bernardo!--he may have suffered wrongs, but never has committed them; and firm in conscious dignity and honour, Bellarmin may have spirit to revive what former abbots, truckling to authority; what servile priesthood, dreading lordly power, so long has suffer'd to lie dormant--the edict of our mighty founder, the edict of immortal Charlemagne! [_Pointing to the tablet._

_Bern._ He, our new abbot! he restore our abbey's ancient and peculiar charter! (_pointing to the tablet._) St. Clair, he dare not, for guilt and courage ne'er had joint abode.

_St. Clair._ Guilt!

_Bern._ Ay; why ever, else, on naming the return of our brave warriors from the holy land, does he betray such latent anger? And, when, last night, 'twas thought their presence would increase the glory of his installation, why such avowed and rancorous opposition? He bears about him hidden discontent, and I will fathom to the lowest depth this most mysterious being! Mark! he comes! observe! observe! [_They retire up the stage._

_Enter_ Abbot, _through the avenue._

_Abbot._ Oh thou! who know'st my undivulged thoughts! who know'st how long and fervently I've prayed to root from memory all suffering past, and dwell with gratitude on present blessings, let me but practise what I daily preach, thy brightest attribute forgiveness, and wrong'd Bellarmin shall convince the world, that though their censure stung him to the heart, he feels their kindness with redoubled warmth! He does! the gnawing viper is, at last, extinct! and this auspicious day is herald of his future calm repose!

_St. Clair._ Now, now, Bernardo, where's the discontent? (_advancing towards the abbot._) My lord, well met! and whilst all bless the hour the emperor ratified our choice, we much rejoice your honours cease not with your late election--Today installs you in your envied seat; tomorrow shall behold you still more grac'd; for the free knights shall then elect you to the highest rank in their exalted council!

_Bern._ Ay; in that sacred council which our holy brotherhood so reverence, and so dread.

_Abbot._ 'Tis well--'tis well--thus chosen abbot of your own free will, not by my seeking, as ye all can witness; for this, and greater favours past, I'm bound forever to obey, and serve ye! Today, I'll welcome these, our sacred rites; tomorrow, far more awful ceremony! I will descend to the mysterious knights, and prove to those, who vest me with authority, no selfish passion lurks within my breast! 'Tis past! it is subdued! and whilst life lasts, I will devote that life to ever crushing my own narrowed wishes, and courting the superior joy of aiding and promoting general welfare.

_Voice_ (_without._) Help! for mercy! help!

_Abbot._ The voice of one distressed! Unbar the gates--give them free entrance.

[_St. Clair opens the gate--Agnes rushes in._

_Agnes_ (_falling at the abbot's feet._) Protect me! save me! I'm pursued, o'ertaken;

_Bern._ (_suddenly._) Pursued!--

_Ag._ No--not pursued--I scarce know what I utter--my friend, my kind protecting friend! who was conducting me through yonder forest, compell'd to leave me by strong urgent circumstance, bade me seek shelter in this holy pile, till one he named could hasten to my relief--and you'll consent! You pious men must feel, that virtue never seems more lovely, than when her arm is stretched to raise the helpless and unfortunate.

_Ab._ (_raising her._) Rise; and, till your friend arrive, confide in one, who train'd in dire misfortune's school, can keenly feel for others.

_Bern._ My lord, reflect. She own'd she was pursued, and in these perilous, these disastrous times, shall strangers be thus welcom'd? I would hear further.

_Ab._ What further would you hear? Sorrow in any shape, should meet with pity; but when it supplicates in female form, we dry its tears, nor wait to ask what caus'd them! Unknown! unquestion'd, I found welcome here, and none yet know the story of my wrongs; why, therefore pry into her hidden grief? 'tis harsh, it is unmanly! come. [_Trumpet, sounds without._

_Bern._ Now, who was harsh in forewarning? Know ye that awful sound? Know ye the free knight's summons? (_goes to the abbey gate._) Come forth, and vindicate the cause of those who justify the Christian faith. (_Monks enter from the abbey._) Lo! the accused! [_Pointing to Agnes._

_Ag._ (_to the abbot._) Do not desert me! On my soul I'm innocent.

_Ab._ (_who has turn'd from her._) Away! you have profaned our hallow'd ground! And thus, pursued by those, whose mandates all submissive sanction, I am no more your friend. Begone!

_Ag._ (_clinging to him._) Is mine the age for plotting death by subtle poison? Is mine the sex for treason and conspiracy? And if I am the daughter of the count Manfredi, am I to answer for my wretched father's crimes.

_Ab._ Manfredi's daughter.

[_Turning towards her with emotion._

_Bern._ (_opening the garden gate._) Behold! read there! (_pointing to the banner, and reading._) "Condemn'd traitress! Agnes Manfredi appear!"

_Ab._ Manfredi _had_ no daughter! Speak, e'er my brain burst! his name--the name of your accuser?

_Ag._ I dread to utter it, for all approve what the prince Palatine affirms.

_Ab._ (_apart._) I thought it was subdued--I said the gnawing viper was extinct; but since it cross my path again, may the fulfillment of this new atrocious act be most important to his purpose! For let the vassal world bow down to his imperious will, alone I'll blast the deadly scorpion's wiles, and snatch one victim from his fiend-like fury! Manfredi's daughter! False! false as your accuser's heart! and knowing that, 'tis joy, 'tis transport to protect you.

[_Taking Agnes's hand._

_St. Clair._ Horror! Protect her.

_Bern._ All gracious powers! thus in defiance of our sacred champions.

_Ab._ Hear me. If the tribunal be composed of high, unblemished, and enlightened minds, who meet to render free impartial justice, however ungracious be their forms, those forms 'twere idle to oppose; but if they thus condemn--if private malice beat down public good--if made a vehicle to gratify tyrannic power, they prove a midnight sanguinary band; I, sacred champion of the Christian cause, will give a bright example of its justice, by baffling those who prostitute its name.

_Bern._ This is Bellarmin! this the pious monk! who boasted of promoting general welfare, and now commences his career by plunging us in ruin. But shall we patiently submit to be involved in his most impious rashness? or shall we instantly dismiss the culprit? and, as we ought, give the free knights the quickest means of vengeance?

_St. Clair._ For this ingratitude, all join Bernardo.

_Bern._ (_seeing that all take part with him._) All!

_Abbot._ Hold! I implore ye! My motives known, no censure will await me! But, till they are, confide in one who, if before he felt unceasing gratitude for all your kindness, what must he now? when, like yourselves, he can exalt his abbey's fame, by once more sheltering in its holy walls, a wrong'd unhappy, persecuted being!

_Ag._ (_appealing to the monks._) Unhappy! most unhappy!

_Bern._ In vain, in vain; for every where the free knights see; and seeing, every where approach, and oft by such mysterious paths, that magic-like, they flash on the pursued. Hark! behold! (_a party of free knights are seen descending the avenue of pine trees._) Guard well the gate! for all who seek not to secure the culprit, partake the crime, and share in the destruction.

[Zastrow _advancing, his vizor half up: the other knights remaining behind the trees._

_Zast._ Behold! the traitress!

_Ab._ (_coming between Zastrow and Agnes._) On one false charge condemn'd, I trust, I'm confident of all she's innocent. (_Zastrow still advancing._) Nay, ye, who boast yourselves avenging knights, recall these chivalrous heroic times, when knighthood's lance aveng'd a better cause, and flew to guard, and not destroy, such helplessness! Reflect, beside, that love for what's divine (_pointing to heaven_) inspires the soul with love for what is human! and whilst religion, with the brightening sun, shines forth to gladden and improve, dark superstition, like the cankering blight, infects and withers every social hope! You pass not further; on my life you pass not!

_Zast._ Advance! (_free knights rush forward and seize Agnes_) and as ye are commanded (_pointing to the banner_) strike!

_Abbot._ And as ye are commanded (_pointing to the inscription on the statute of Charlemagne_) spare!--you know my power!--(_to the monks_)--you know the edict of our mighty founder, victorious Charlemagne! who, in return for laurels won upon this spot, first raised our abbey, to commemorate conquest; and soon endowing it with right of sanctuary, next gave the abbot the more blest prerogative of granting pardon, where he saw just cause! I see it now! I claim my abbey's privilege! I stand upon my founder's edict! and kings! laws! armies! must support the man, who, struggling for a sacred right, asserts mankind's and heaven's inspiring cause! (_the free knights unloose their hold of Agnes, who crosses to the abbot; and the monks, by their manner evince conviction._) No more I sue for your support--(_to the monks_)--now I command it!--And ye, fam'd foes to sacreligious outrage!--(_to the free knights_)--proclaim that this, my post assigned to me by providence, I will maintain or perish in the conflict! Lead to the sanctuary--away!

[_Music._--Agnes _thanks the_ Abbot, _who cheers and encourages her._ Free knights _ascend the avenue, and disappear._ Monks _exeunt into the abbey._ Abbot _following with_ Agnes.

_End of Act II._