in the forest yonder, there beyond our border, there we met each other at the spring where I was sleeping peacefully at early dawn. . . . Mother dear, how well I feel! I recollect everything, everything now. . . . O, I still see how the dew sparkled, how the mountains towered over the forest, and how the white doves circled over the tree tops and how a light, white cloud floated through the heavens. . . . I know what form it had; it was like a long, long fish. . . . We were jesting, I think, Radovid and I and someone else. . . . It was a woodcutter, a man whom I liked from the moment that I saw him. . . . And then, then they seized me. . . . And they cruelly thrust me into a tower; there it was dark. . . . But no, before that, before they led me there, there was something more some bright apparition dazzled my sight, something like a beautiful bird. . . . No,a white lily, which was illumined by the early dawn. . . . What was it? My memory becomes clouded! . . .

Nyola.—Thou wilt recall that later; gaze not so sadly, confusedly. . . . Continue thy story. . . . (Aside) O Radovid, how can I endure this, how can I?

Radovid.—They thrust thee into the tower, did they not, my prince?

Radúz.—It was dark there and | lay there a long time . . . but some sunbeam visited me . . . What was that sun-beam? I cannot, I cannot remember. . . . It pains me here, mother; place thy hand on my forehead . . . so . . . so.

Nyola.—Leave recollections alone now, my son. Thou hast come and hast restored to me my life! Thou art my only comfort, O Radúz, my soul!

Radúz.—Then they chained me to the summit of a cliff.—There I went mad! Now ghastly and uncertain phantoms mingle in a feverish tumult of horrible thoughts! . . . A tumult of wild joy and of unutterable griefs agitates my bewildered brain. . . . My very soul deserts me with a threatening laugh . . . it is escaping me . . . I wish to catch it . . . (Jumps up.) Now it has escaped . . . Darkness surrounds me, and again a ruddy fire and heat and cold. . . . You all torture me. . . . I do not wish to be, I do not wish to live, and you hold me back and torture me! . .

Nyola.—My afflicted heart, rather break! O Radúz, thou most cruel child!