Ost. Nay, nay! This—this
(Pulling a ring from his finger, which falls on the ground.)
Ben. I have found it; and what shall I do with it?
Ost. (in a faint hurried voice.) Leonora—Leonora.
Ben. I understand you, my Lord.
Prior. I am under the necessity, Count Osterloo, of saying, your time is run to its utmost limit: let us call upon you now for your last exertion of nature. These good brothers must conduct you to the scaffold. (Jer. and Paul support him towards the scaffold, while Benedict retires to a distance, and turns his back to it.)
Jer. Rest upon me, my Son, you have but few paces to go.
Ost. The ground sinks under me; my feet tread upon nothing.
Jer. We are now at the foot of the scaffold, and there are two steps to mount: lean upon us more firmly.
Ost. (stumbling) It is dark; I cannot see.
Jer. Alas, my Son! there is a blaze of torches round you.
(After they are on the scaffold.)
Now, in token of thy faith in heaven, and forgiveness of all men, raise up thy clasped hands.
(Seeing Ost. make a feeble effort, he raises them for him in a posture of devotion.)
