R. MOOR, SCRWETTZER, and KOSINSKY.

R. MOOR. Give me thy right hand, Kosinsky—Schweitzer thy left.
(He takes their hands, and stands between, them; to KOSINSKY,)
Young man, thou art still pure-amongst the guilty thou alone art
guiltless! (To SCHWEITZER.) Deeply have I imbrued thy hand in
blood. 'Tis I who have done this. With this cordial grasp I take
back mine own. Schweitzer! thou art purified! (He raises their
hands fervently to heaven.) Father in heaven! here I restore them
to thee. They will be more devoted to thy service than those who
never fell. Of that I feel assured. (SCHWEITZER and KOSINSKY fall
on his neck with fervor.) Not now—not now, dear comrades. Spare
my feelings in this trying hour. An earldom has this day fallen to
my lot—a rich domain on which no malediction rests. Share it
between you, my children; become good citizens; and if for ten
human beings that I have destroyed you make but one happy, my soul
may yet be saved. Go—no farewell! In another world we may meet
again—or perhaps no more. Away! away! ere my fortitude desert me.
[Exeunt both, with downcast countenances.]