Rod. Thou cunning villain, I'll outwit thee yet. I will disguise myself, and watch thee well, and when least thou thinkest it, my dagger shall be at thy breast. And now one thing remains to me, and that is flight. I must leave all and go forth poor, dishonored, and alone; sin on my head, and fear within my heart. Will the sun never set? How slow the hours pass! In the first gloom of night, concealed in yonder old monk's robe, I'll silently glide forth, and fly from Hugo and this haunted house. Courage, Rodolpho, thou shalt yet win a name and fortune for thyself. Now let me rest awhile; I shall need strength for the perils of the night [_lies down and sleeps_].

Norna. Poor fool! thy greatest foe is here,--her thou shalt not escape. Hugo shall be warned, and thou alone shalt fall.

Comic Tragedies — Part 20

[_She makes signs from the window and vanishes._

Comic Tragedies — Part 20

Rod. [_awakes and rises_]. Ah, what fearful dreams are mine! Theresa--Louis--still they haunt me! Whither shall I turn? Who comes? [_Enter_ Gaspard.] Art thou another phantom sent to torture me?

Comic Tragedies — Part 20

Gasp. 'Tis I, leader of the king's brave guards, sent hither to arrest thee, my lord; for thou art charged with murder.

Rod. Who dares to cast so foul a stain on Count Rodolpho's name.

Gasp. My lord, yield thyself. The king may show thee mercy yet--

Rod. I will yield, and prove my innocence, and clear mine honor to the king. Reach me my cloak yonder, and I am ready.

[Gaspard _turns to seek the cloak._ Rodolpho _leaps from the window and disappears._

Gasp. Ha! he hath escaped,--curses on my carelessness! [_Rushes to the window._] Ho, there! surround the castle, the prisoner hath fled! We'll have him yet, the blood-stained villain!

[_Exit_ Gaspard. _Shouts and clashing of swords heard._

[Norna's _cave._ Leonore _and_ _Adrian_.]

Adrian. Dear lady, can I do nought to while away the lonely hours? Shall I go forth and bring thee flowers, or seek thy home and bear away thy bird, thy lute, or aught that may beguile thy solitude? It grieves me that I can do so little for thee.

Leonore. Nay, 'tis I should grieve that I can find no way to show my gratitude to thee, my brave deliverer. But wilt thou not tell me who thou art? I would fain know to whom I owe my life and liberty.