OLD M. Gracious Heavens? what am I doomed to hear?

FRANCIS. First let me retire and shed a tear of compassion for my lost
brother. Would that my lips might be forever sealed--for he is your
son! Would that I could throw an eternal veil over his shame--for he is
my brother! But to obey you is my first, though painful, duty--forgive
me, therefore.

OLD M. Oh, Charles! Charles! Didst thou but know what thorns thou
plantest in thy father's bosom! That one gladdening report of thee would
add ten years to my life! yes, bring back my youth! whilst now, alas,
each fresh intelligence but hurries me a step nearer to the grave!

FRANCIS. Is it so, old man, then farewell! for even this very day we
might all have to tear our hair over your coffin.*

[* This idiom is very common in Germany, and is used to express
affliction.]

OLD M. Stay! There remains but one short step more--let him have his
will! (He sits down.) The sins of the father shall be visited unto the
third and fourth generation--let him fulfil the decree.

FRANCIS (takes the letter out of his pocket). You know our
correspondent! See! I would give a finger of my right hand might I
pronounce him a liar--a base and slanderous liar! Compose yourself!
Forgive me if I do not let you read the letter yourself. You cannot,
must not, yet know all.