Illo. The sentries are saluting them: this signal Announces the arrival of the Duchess.

Octavio. Then my son Max too has returned. 'Twas he Fetched and attended them from Carnthen hither. 150

Isolani (to Illo). Shall we not go in company to greet them?

Illo. Well, let us go.—Ho! Colonel Butler, come.

[To OCTAVIO.

You'll not forget, that yet ere noon we meet The noble Envoy at the General's palace.

[Exeunt all but QUESTENBERG and OCTAVIO.

FOOTNOTES:

[604:1] A town not far from the Mine-mountains, on the high road from Vienna to Prague.

LINENOTES:

[Before 1] Octavio (still in the distance). 1817, 1828, 1829.

[After 4] [Approaching nearer. 1817, 1828, 1829.

[17]

We honour in this noble visitor. [Universal silence.

Illo (moving towards Questenberg). 'Tis not, &c.

1817, 1828, 1829.

[21] where 1800, 1828, 1829.

[26] supplicate 1800, 1828, 1829.

[30] compel 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 39] Isolani (steps up to them). 1817, 1828, 1829.

[51] out 1800, 1828, 1829.

[58] you 1800, 1828, 1829.

[80] these 1800.

[81] these 1800.

[87] pare 1800.

[99] me 1800, 1828, 1829.

[100] This was, &c. 1800.

[120] does 1800, 1828, 1829.

[124] His 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 129] Questenberg (with a sneer). 1817, 1828, 1829.

[134] Octavio (interposing and addressing Questenberg). 1817, 1828, 1829.

[138] act 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 149] Octavio (to Questenberg). 1817, 1828, 1829.

[149] Max 1800.

SCENE III

QUESTENBERG and OCTAVIO.

Questenberg. What have I not been forced to hear, Octavio! What sentiments! what fierce, uncurbed defiance! And were this spirit universal—

Octavio. Hm! You are now acquainted with three-fourths of the army.

Questenberg. Where must we seek then for a second host 5 To have the custody of this? That Illo Thinks worse, I fear me, than he speaks. And then This Butler too—he cannot even conceal The passionate workings of his ill intentions.

Octavio. Quickness of temper—irritated pride; 10 'Twas nothing more. I cannot give up Butler. I know a spell that will soon dispossess The evil spirit in him.

Questenberg. Friend, friend! O! this is worse, far worse, than we had suffered Ourselves to dream of at Vienna. There 15 We saw it only with a courtier's eyes, Eyes dazzled by the splendour of the throne. We had not seen the War-Chief, the Commander, The man all-powerful in his camp. Here, here, 'Tis quite another thing. 20 Here is no Emperor more—the Duke is Emperor. Alas, my friend! alas, my noble friend! This walk which you have ta'en me through the camp Strikes my hopes prostrate.

Octavio. Now you see yourself Of what a perilous kind the office is, 25 Which you deliver to me from the Court. The least suspicion of the General Costs me my freedom and my life, and would But hasten his most desperate enterprise.

Questenberg. Where was our reason sleeping when we trusted 30 This madman with the sword, and placed such power In such a hand? I tell you, he'll refuse, Flatly refuse, to obey the Imperial orders. Friend, he can do 't, and what he can, he will. And then the impunity of his defiance— 35 O! what a proclamation of our weakness!

Octavio. D'ye think too, he has brought his wife and daughter Without a purpose hither? Here in camp! And at the very point of time, in which We're arming for the war? That he has taken 40 These, the last pledges of his loyalty, Away from out the Emperor's domains— This is no doubtful token of the nearness Of some eruption!

Questenberg. How shall we hold footing Beneath this tempest, which collects itself 45 And threats us from all quarters? The enemy Of the empire on our borders, now already The master of the Danube, and still farther, And farther still, extending every hour! In our interior the alarum-bells 50 Of insurrection—peasantry in arms—— All orders discontented—and the army, Just in the moment of our expectation Of aidance from it—lo! this very army Seduced, run wild, lost to all discipline, 55 Loosened, and rent asunder from the state And from their sovereign, the blind instrument Of the most daring of mankind, a weapon Of fearful power, which at his will he wields!

Octavio. Nay, nay, friend! let us not despair too soon, 60 Men's words are ever bolder than their deeds: And many a resolute, who now appears Made up to all extremes, will, on a sudden Find in his breast a heart he knew not of, Let but a single honest man speak out 65 The true name of his crime! Remember, too, We stand not yet so wholly unprotected. Counts Altringer and Galas have maintained Their little army faithful to its duty, And daily it becomes more numerous. 70 Nor can he take us by surprise: you know, I hold him all-encompassed by my listeners. Whate'er he does, is mine, even while 'tis doing— No step so small, but instantly I hear it; Yea, his own mouth discloses it.

Questenberg. 'Tis quite 75 Incomprehensible, that he detects not The foe so near!

Octavio. Beware, you do not think, That I by lying arts, and complaisant Hypocrisy, have skulked into his graces: Or with the sustenance of smooth professions 80 Nourish his all-confiding friendship! No— Compelled alike by prudence, and that duty Which we all owe our country, and our sovereign, To hide my genuine feelings from him, yet Ne'er have I duped him with base counterfeits! 85

Questenberg. It is the visible ordinance of heaven.

Octavio. I know not what it is that so attracts And links him both to me and to my son. Comrades and friends we always were—long habit, Adventurous deeds performed in company, 90 And all those many and various incidents Which store a soldier's memory with affections, Had bound us long and early to each other— Yet I can name the day, when all at once His heart rose on me, and his confidence 95 Shot out in sudden growth. It was the morning Before the memorable fight at Ltzner. Urged by an ugly dream, I sought him out, To press him to accept another charger. At distance from the tents, beneath a tree, 100 I found him in a sleep. When I had waked him, And had related all my bodings to him, Long time he stared upon me, like a man Astounded; thereon fell upon my neck, And manifested to me an emotion 105 That far outstripped the worth of that small service. Since then his confidence has followed me With the same pace that mine has fled from him.

Questenberg. You lead your son into the secret?

Octavio. No!

Questenberg. What? and not warn him either what bad hands 110 His lot has placed him in?

Octavio. I must perforce Leave him in wardship to his innocence. His young and open soul—dissimulation Is foreign to its habits! Ignorance Alone can keep alive the cheerful air, 115 The unembarrassed sense and light free spirit, That make the Duke secure.

Questenberg. My honoured friend! most highly do I deem Of Colonel Piccolomini—yet—if—— Reflect a little——

Octavio. I must venture it. 120 Hush!—There he comes!

LINENOTES:

[Before 1] Questenberg (with signs of aversion and astonishment). 1817, 1828, 1829.

[13] him 1800, 1828, 1829.

Questenberg (walking up and down in evident disquiet). Friend, &c. 1817, 1828, 1829.

[34] can 1800, 1828, 1829.

[59] he 1800, 1828, 1829.

[64] knew] wot 1800, 1828, 1829.

[84] genuine 1800.

[95] rose 1800, 1828, 1829.

[118] Questenberg (anxiously). My honoured, &c. 1800, 1828, 1829.

SCENE IV

MAX PICCOLOMINI, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI, QUESTENBERG.

Max. Ha! there he is himself. Welcome, my father! You are engaged, I see. I'll not disturb you.

Octavio. How, Max? Look closer at this visitor; Attention, Max, an old friend merits—Reverence Belongs of right to the envoy of your sovereign. 5

Max. Von Questenberg!—Welcome—if you bring with you Aught good to our head quarters.

Questenberg (seizing his hand). Nay, draw not Your hand away, Count Piccolomini! Not on mine own account alone I seized it, And nothing common will I say therewith. 10

[Taking the hands of both.

Octavio—Max Piccolomini! O saviour names, and full of happy omen! Ne'er will her prosperous genius turn from Austria, While two such stars, with blessed influences Beaming protection, shine above her hosts. 15

Max. Heh!—Noble minister! You miss your part. You came not here to act a panegyric. You're sent, I know, to find fault and to scold us— I must not be beforehand with my comrades.

Octavio. He comes from court, where people are not quite 20 So well contented with the duke, as here.

Max. What now have they contrived to find out in him? That he alone determines for himself What he himself alone doth understand? Well, therein he does right, and will persist in 't. 25 Heaven never meant him for that passive thing That can be struck and hammered out to suit Another's taste and fancy. He'll not dance To every tune of every minister. It goes against his nature—he can't do it. 30 He is possessed by a commanding spirit, And his too is the station of command. And well for us it is so! There exist Few fit to rule themselves, but few that use Their intellects intelligently.—Then 35 Well for the whole, if there be found a man, Who makes himself what nature destined him, The pause, the central point to thousand thousands— Stands fixed and stately, like a firm-built column, Where all may press with joy and confidence. 40 Now such a man is Wallenstein; and if Another better suits the court—no other But such a one as he can serve the army.

Questenberg. The army? Doubtless!

Octavio (aside). Hush! suppress it, friend! Unless some end were answered by the utterance.— 45 Of him there you'll make nothing.

Max. In their distress They call a spirit up, and when he comes, Straight their flesh creeps and quivers, and they dread him More than the ills for which they called him up. The uncommon, the sublime, must seem and be 50 Like things of every day.—But in the field, Aye, there the Present Being makes itself felt. The personal must command, the actual eye Examine. If to be the chieftain asks All that is great in nature, let it be 55 Likewise his privilege to move and act In all the correspondencies of greatness. The oracle within him, that which lives, He must invoke and question—not dead books, Not ordinances, not mould-rotted papers. 60

Octavio. My son! of those old narrow ordinances Let us not hold too lightly. They are weights Of priceless value, which oppressed mankind Tied to the volatile will of their oppressors. For always formidable was the league 65 And partnership of free power with free will. The way of ancient ordinance, though it winds, Is yet no devious way. Straight forward goes The lightning's path, and straight the fearful path Of the cannon-ball. Direct it flies and rapid, 70 Shattering that it may reach, and shattering what it reaches. My son! the road the human being travels, That on which blessing comes and goes, doth follow The river's course, the valley's playful windings, Curves round the corn-field and the hill of vines, 75 Honouring the holy bounds of property! And thus secure, though late, leads to its end.

Questenberg. O hear your father, noble youth! hear him, Who is at once the hero and the man.

Octavio. My son, the nursling of the camp spoke in thee! 80 A war of fifteen years Hath been thy education and thy school. Peace hast thou never witnessed! There exists A higher than the warrior's excellence. In war itself war is no ultimate purpose. 85 The vast and sudden deeds of violence, Adventures wild, and wonders of the moment, These are not they, my son, that generate The calm, the blissful, and the enduring mighty! Lo there! the soldier, rapid architect! 90 Builds his light town of canvas, and at once The whole scene moves and bustles momently, With arms, and neighing steeds, and mirth and quarrel The motley market fills; the roads, the streams Are crowded with new freights, trade stirs and hurries! 95 But on some morrow morn, all suddenly, The tents drop down, the horde renews its march. Dreary, and solitary as a church-yard The meadow and down-trodden seed-plot lie, And the year's harvest is gone utterly. 100

Max. O let the Emperor make peace, my father! Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel For the first violet[614:1] of the leafless spring, Plucked in those quiet fields where I have journeyed!

Octavio. What ails thee? What so moves thee all at once? 105

Max. Peace have I ne'er beheld? I have beheld it. From thence am I come hither: O! that sight, It glimmers still before me, like some landscape Left in the distance,—some delicious landscape! My road conducted me through countries where 110 The war has not yet reached. Life, life, my father— My venerable father, life has charms Which we have ne'er experienced. We have been But voyaging along its barren coasts, Like some poor ever-roaming horde of pirates, 115 That, crowded in the rank and narrow ship, House on the wild sea with wild usages, Nor know aught of the main land, but the bays Where safeliest they may venture a thieves' landing. Whate'er in the inland dales the land conceals 120 Of fair and exquisite, O! nothing, nothing, Do we behold of that in our rude voyage.

Octavio. And so your journey has revealed this to you?

Max. 'Twas the first leisure of my life. O tell me, What is the meed and purpose of the toil, 125 The painful toil, which robbed me of my youth, Left me a heart unsoul'd and solitary, A spirit uninformed, unornamented. For the camp's stir and crowd and ceaseless larum, The neighing war-horse, the air-shattering trumpet, 130 The unvaried, still-returning hour of duty, Word of command, and exercise of arms— There's nothing here, there's nothing in all this To satisfy the heart, the gasping heart! Mere bustling nothingness, where the soul is not— 135 This cannot be the sole felicity, These cannot be man's best and only pleasures.

Octavio. Much hast thou learnt, my son, in this short journey.

Max. O! day thrice lovely! when at length the soldier Returns home into life; when he becomes 140 A fellow-man among his fellow-men. The colours are unfurled, the cavalcade Marshals, and now the buzz is hushed, and hark! Now the soft peace-march beats, home, brothers, home! The caps and helmets are all garlanded 145 With green boughs, the last plundering of the fields. The city gates fly open of themselves, They need no longer the petard to tear them. The ramparts are all filled with men and women, With peaceful men and women, that send onwards 150 Kisses and welcomings upon the air, Which they make breezy with affectionate gestures. From all the towers rings out the merry peal, The joyous vespers of a bloody day. O happy man, O fortunate! for whom 155 The well-known door, the faithful arms are open, The faithful tender arms with mute embracing.

Questenberg. O! that you should speak Of such a distant, distant time, and not Of the to-morrow, not of this to-day. 160

Max. Where lies the fault but on you in Vienna? I will deal openly with you, Questenberg. Just now, as first I saw you standing here, (I'll own it to you freely) indignation Crowded and pressed my inmost soul together. 165 'Tis ye that hinder peace, ye!—and the warrior, It is the warrior that must force it from you. Ye fret the General's life out, blacken him, Hold him up as a rebel, and Heaven knows What else still worse, because he spares the Saxons, 170 And tries to awaken confidence in the enemy; Which yet 's the only way to peace: for if War intermit not during war, how then And whence can peace come?—Your own plagues fall on you! Even as I love what's virtuous, hate I you. 175 And here make I this vow, here pledge myself; My blood shall spurt out for this Wallenstein, And my heart drain off, drop by drop, ere ye Shall revel and dance jubilee o'er his ruin. [Exit.

FOOTNOTES:

[614:1] In the original,

Den blut'gen Lorbeer geb ich him mit Freuden Frs erste Veilchen, das der Merz uns bringt, Das duftige Pffand der neuverjngten Erde.

1800, 1828, 1829.

LINENOTES:

[After 1] [He embraces His father. As he turns round he observes Questenberg, and draws back with a cold and reserved air. 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 6] Max (drily). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 20] Octavio (to Max). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[38] to] of 1800.

[44] Octavio (to Questenberg). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[45] some 1800, 1828, 1829.

[46] him 1800, 1828, 1829. Max (continuing). In their, &c. 1800, 1828, 1829.

[52] there the Present Being 1800, 1828, 1829.

[58] lives 1800, 1828, 1829.

[63] th' oppressed MS. R.

[71] may 1800, 1828, 1829.

[73] BLESSING 1800, 1828, 1829.

[78] him 1800, 1828, 1829.

[106] have 1800, 1828, 1829.

[113] we 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 123] Octavio (attentive, with an appearance of uneasiness). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 158] Questenberg (apparently much affected). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 161] Max (turning round to him, quick and vehement). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[165] peace, ye 1800, 1828, 1829.

[172] how 1800, 1828, 1829.

[173] whence 1800, 1828, 1829.

SCENE V

QUESTENBERG, OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI.

Questenberg. Alas, alas! and stands it so? What, friend! and do we let him go away In this delusion—let him go away? Not call him back immediately, not open His eyes upon the spot?

Octavio. He has now opened mine, 5 And I see more than pleases me.

Questenberg. What is it?

Octavio. Curse on this journey!

Questenberg. But why so? What is it?

Octavio. Come, come along, friend! I must follow up The ominous track immediately. Mine eyes Are opened now, and I must use them. Come! 10

[Draws QUESTENBERG on with him.

Questenberg. What now? Where go you then?

Octavio. To her herself.

Questenberg. To——

Octavio. To the Duke. Come, let us go—'Tis done, 'tis done, I see the net that is thrown over him. O! he returns not to me as he went.

Questenberg. Nay, but explain yourself.

Octavio. And that I should not 15 Foresee it, not prevent this journey! Wherefore Did I keep it from him?—You were in the right. I should have warned him! Now it is too late.

Questenberg. But what's too late? Bethink yourself, my friend, That you are talking absolute riddles to me. 20

Octavio. Come!—to the Duke's. 'Tis close upon the hour Which he appointed you for audience. Come! A curse, a threefold curse, upon this journey!

[He leads QUESTENBERG off.

LINENOTES:

[After 1] [Then in pressing and impatient tones. 1800, 1828, 1829.

[5] Octavio (recovering himself out of a deep study). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[11] Where 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 12] Octavio (interrupting him, and correcting himself). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[19] what's 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 21] Octavio (more collected). 1800, 1828, 1829.

SCENE VI

Changes to a spacious chamber in the house of the Duke of Friedland.—Servants employed in putting the tables and chairs in order. During this enters SENI, like an old Italian doctor, in black, and clothed somewhat fantastically. He carries a white staff, with which he marks out the quarters of the heaven.

First Servant. Come—to it, lads, to it! Make an end of it. I hear the sentry call out, 'Stand to your arms!' They will be there in a minute.

Second Servant. Why were we not told before that the audience would be held here? Nothing prepared—no orders—no 5 instructions—

Third Servant. Ay, and why was the balcony-chamber countermanded, that with the great worked carpet?—there one can look about one.

First Servant. Nay, that you must ask the mathematician there. 10 He says it is an unlucky chamber.

Second Servant. Poh! stuff and nonsense! That's what I call a hum. A chamber is a chamber; what much can the place signify in the affair?

Seni. My son, there's nothing insignificant, 15 Nothing! But yet in every earthly thing First and most principal is place and time.

First Servant (to the Second). Say nothing to him, Nat. The Duke himself must let him have his own will.

Seni (counts the chairs, half in a loud, half in a low voice, till he comes to eleven, which he repeats). Eleven! an evil number! Set twelve chairs. 20 Twelve! twelve signs hath the zodiac: five and seven, The holy numbers, include themselves in twelve.

Second Servant. And what may you have to object against eleven? I should like to know that now.

Seni. Eleven is—transgression; eleven oversteps 25 The ten commandments.

Second Servant. That's good! and why do you call five an holy number?

Seni. Five is the soul of man: for even as man Is mingled up of good and evil, so 30 The five is the first number that's made up Of even and odd.

Second Servant. The foolish old coxcomb!

First Servant. Ey! let him alone though. I like to hear him; there is more in his words than can be seen at first sight. 35

Third Servant. Off! They come.

Second Servant. There! Out at the side-door.

[They hurry off. SENI follows slowly. A page brings the staff of command on a red cushion, and places it on the table near the DUKE'S chair. They are announced from without, and the wings of the door fly open.

LINENOTES:

[13] hum 1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 15] Seni (with gravity). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[15] nothing 1800, 1828, 1829.

[16] Nothing 1800, 1828, 1829.

SCENE VII

WALLENSTEIN, DUCHESS.

Wallenstein. You went then through Vienna, were presented To the Queen of Hungary?

Duchess. Yes, and to the Empress too, And by both Majesties were we admitted To kiss the hand.

Wallenstein. And how was it received, That I had sent for wife and daughter hither 5 To the camp, in winter time?

Duchess. I did even that Which you commissioned me to do. I told them, You had determined on our daughter's marriage, And wished, ere yet you went into the field, To shew the elected husband his betrothed. 10

Wallenstein. And did they guess the choice which I had made?

Duchess. They only hoped and wished it may have fallen Upon no foreign nor yet Lutheran noble.

Wallenstein. And you—what do you wish, Elizabeth?

Duchess. Your will, you know, was always mine.

Wallenstein. Well, then? 15 And in all else, of what kind and complexion Was your reception at the court? Hide nothing from me. How were you received?

Duchess. O! my dear lord, all is not what it was. A cankerworm, my lord, a cankerworm 20 Has stolen into the bud.

Wallenstein. Ay! is it so! What, they were lax? they failed of the old respect?

Duchess. Not of respect. No honours were omitted, No outward courtesy; but in the place Of condescending, confidential kindness, 25 Familiar and endearing, there were given me Only these honours and that solemn courtesy. Ah! and the tenderness which was put on, It was the guise of pity, not of favour. No! Albrecht's wife, Duke Albrecht's princely wife, 30 Count Harrach's noble daughter, should not so— Not wholly so should she have been received.

Wallenstein. Yes, yes; they have ta'en offence. My latest conduct, They railed at it, no doubt.

Duchess. O that they had! I have been long accustomed to defend you, 35 To heal and pacify distempered spirits. No; no one railed at you. They wrapped them up, O Heaven! in such oppressive, solemn silence!— Here is no every-day misunderstanding, No transient pique, no cloud that passes over; 40 Something most luckless, most unhealable, Has taken place. The Queen of Hungary Used formerly to call me her dear aunt, And ever at departure to embrace me—

Wallenstein. Now she omitted it?

Duchess. She did embrace me, 45 But then first when I had already taken My formal leave, and when the door already Had closed upon me, then did she come out In haste, as she had suddenly bethought herself, And pressed me to her bosom, more with anguish 50 Than tenderness.

Wallenstein (seizes her hand soothingly). Nay, now collect yourself, And what of Eggenberg and Lichtenstein, And of our other friends there?

Duchess. I saw none.

Wallenstein. The Ambassador from Spain, who once was wont To plead so warmly for me?—

Duchess. Silent, Silent! 55

Wallenstein. These suns then are eclipsed for us. Henceforward Must we roll on, our own fire, our own light.

Duchess. And were it—were it, my dear lord, in that Which moved about the court in buzz and whisper, But in the country let itself be heard 60 Aloud—in that which Father Lamormain In sundry hints and——

Wallenstein. Lamormain! what said he?

Duchess. That you're accused of having daringly O'erstepped the powers entrusted to you, charged With traitorous contempt of the Emperor 65 And his supreme behests. The proud Bavarian, He and the Spaniards stand up your accusers— That there's a storm collecting over you Of far more fearful menace than that former one Which whirled you headlong down at Regensburg. 70 And people talk, said he, of——Ah!—

Wallenstein. Proceed!

Duchess. I cannot utter it!

Wallenstein. Proceed!

Duchess. They talk——

Wallenstein. Well!

Duchess. Of a second——

Wallenstein. Second——

Duchess. More disgraceful ——Dismission.

Wallenstein. Talk they? O! they force, they thrust me With violence, against my own will, onward! 75

Duchess. O! if there yet be time, my husband! if By giving way and by submission, this Can be averted—my dear lord, give way! Win down your proud heart to it! Tell that heart It is your sovereign lord, your Emperor 80 Before whom you retreat. O let no longer Low tricking malice blacken your good meaning With abhorred venomous glosses. Stand you up Shielded and helm'd and weapon'd with the truth, And drive before you into uttermost shame 85 These slanderous liars! Few firm friends have we— You know it!—The swift growth of our good fortune It hath but set us up, a mark for hatred. What are we, if the sovereign's grace and favour Stand not before us? 90

LINENOTES:

[14] you wish 1800, 1828, 1829.

[15] Wallenstein (after a pause). Well, then? 1800, 1828, 1829.

[After 17] [The DUCHESS casts her eyes on the ground and remains silent. 1800, 1828, 1829.

[31] so 1800, 1828, 1829.

[45] Now 1800, 1828, 1829. Duchess (wiping away her tears, after a pause). 1800, 1828, 1829. did 1800, 1828, 1829.

[53] Duchess (shaking her head). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[62] Wallenstein (eagerly). Lamormain, &c. 1800, 1828, 1829. he 1800, 1828, 1829.

[71]

And people . . . Ah!— [Stifling extreme emotion.

1800, 1828, 1829.

[73] Duchess. Of a second—— (catches her voice and hesitates). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[74]

Wallenstein. Talk they? [Strides across the chamber in vehement agitation.

1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 76] Duchess (presses near to him, in entreaty). 1800, 1828, 1829.

SCENE VIII

Enter the COUNTESS TERTSKY, leading in her hand the PRINCESS THEKLA, richly adorned with brilliants.

COUNTESS, THEKLA, WALLENSTEIN, DUCHESS.

Countess. How, sister? What already upon business, And business of no pleasing kind I see, Ere he has gladdened at his child. The first Moment belongs to joy. Here, Friedland! father! This is thy daughter. 5

(THEKLA approaches with a shy and timid air, and bends herself as about to kiss his hand. He receives her in his arms, and remains standing for some time lost in the feeling of her presence.)

Wallenstein. Yes! pure and lovely hath hope risen on me: I take her as the pledge of greater fortune.

Duchess. 'Twas but a little child when you departed To raise up that great army for the Emperor: And after, at the close of the campaign, 10 When you returned home out of Pomerania, Your daughter was already in the convent, Wherein she has remain'd till now.

Wallenstein. The while We in the field here gave our cares and toils To make her great, and fight her a free way 15 To the loftiest earthly good, lo! mother Nature Within the peaceful silent convent walls Has done her part, and out of her free grace Hath she bestowed on the beloved child The godlike; and now leads her thus adorned 20 To meet her splendid fortune, and my hope.

Duchess (to Thekla). Thou wouldst not have recognized thy father, Wouldst thou, my child? She counted scarce eight years, When last she saw your face.

Thekla. O yes, yes, mother! At the first glance!—My father is not altered. 25 The form, that stands before me, falsifies No feature of the image that hath lived So long within me!

Wallenstein. The voice of my child!

[Then after a pause.

I was indignant at my destiny That it denied me a man-child to be 30 Heir of my name and of my prosperous fortune, And re-illume my soon extinguished being In a proud line of princes. I wronged my destiny. Here upon this head So lovely in its maiden bloom will I 35 Let fall the garland of a life of war, Nor deem it lost, if only I can wreath it Transmitted to a regal ornament, Around these beauteous brows.

[He clasps her in his arms as PICCOLOMINI enters.

LINENOTES:

[After 1] [Observing the countenance of the Duchess. 1800, 1828, 1829.

SCENE IX

Enter MAX PICCOLOMINI, and some time after COUNT TERTSKY, the others remaining as before.

Countess. There comes the Paladin who protected us.

Wallenstein. Max! Welcome, ever welcome! Always wert thou The morning star of my best joys!

Max. My General——

Wallenstein. 'Till now it was the Emperor who rewarded thee, I but the instrument. This day thou hast bound 5 The father to thee, Max! the fortunate father, And this debt Friedland's self must pay.

Max. My prince! You made no common hurry to transfer it. I come with shame: yea, not without a pang! For scarce have I arrived here, scarce delivered 10 The mother and the daughter to your arms, But there is brought to me from your equerry A splendid richly-plated hunting dress So to remunerate me for my troubles—— Yes, yes, remunerate me! Since a trouble 15 It must be, a mere office, not a favour Which I leapt forward to receive, and which I came already with full heart to thank you for. No! 'twas not so intended, that my business Should be my highest best good fortune! 20

[TERTSKY enters, and delivers letters to the DUKE, which he breaks open hurryingly.

Countess (to Max). Remunerate your trouble! For his joy He makes you recompense. 'Tis not unfitting For you, Count Piccolomini, to feel So tenderly—my brother it beseems To shew himself for ever great and princely. 25

Thekla. Then I too must have scruples of his love: For his munificent hands did ornament me Ere yet the father's heart had spoken to me.

Max. Yes; 'tis his nature ever to be giving And making happy. How my heart pours out 30 Its all of thanks to him: O! how I seem To utter all things in the dear name Friedland. While I shall live, so long will I remain The captive of this name: in it shall bloom My every fortune, every lovely hope. 35 Inextricably as in some magic ring In this name hath my destiny charm-bound me!

Countess. My brother wishes us to leave him. Come.

Wallenstein (turns himself round quick, collects himself, and speaks with cheerfulness to the Duchess). Once more I bid thee welcome to the camp, Thou art the hostess of this court. You, Max, 40 Will now again administer your old office, While we perform the sovereign's business here.

[MAX PICCOLOMINI offers the DUCHESS his arm, the COUNTESS accompanies the PRINCESS.

Tertsky (calling after him). Max, we depend on seeing you at the meeting.

LINENOTES:

[30]

And making happy. [He grasps the hand of the DUCHESS with still increasing warmth.

1800, 1828, 1829.

[Before 38] Countess (who during this time has been anxiously watching the Duke, and remarks that he is lost in thought over the letters). 1800, 1828, 1829.

SCENE X

WALLENSTEIN, COUNT TERTSKY.

Wallenstein (to himself). She hath seen all things as they are—It is so And squares completely with my other notices. They have determined finally in Vienna, Have given me my successor already; It is the king of Hungary, Ferdinand, 5 The Emperor's delicate son! he's now their saviour, He's the new star that's rising now! Of us They think themselves already fairly rid, And as we were deceased, the heir already Is entering on possession—Therefore—dispatch! 10

[As he turns round he observes TERTSKY, and gives him a letter.

Count Altringer will have himself excused, And Galas too—I like not this!

Tertsky. And if Thou loiterest longer, all will fall away, One following the other.

Wallenstein. Altringer Is master of the Tyrole passes. I must forthwith 15 Send some one to him, that he let not in The Spaniards on me from the Milanese. ——Well, and the old Sesin, that ancient trader In contraband negotiations, he Has shewn himself again of late. What brings he 20 From the Count Thur?

Tertsky. The Count communicates, He has found out the Swedish chancellor At Halberstadt, where the convention's held, Who says, you've tired him out, and that he'll have No further dealings with you.

Wallenstein. And why so? 25

[625:1]Tertsky. He says, you are never in earnest in your speeches, That you decoy the Swedes—to make fools of them, Will league yourself with Saxony against them, And at last make yourself a riddance of them With a paltry sum of money.

Wallenstein. So then, doubtless, 30 Yes, doubtless, this same modest Swede expects That I shall yield him some fair German tract For his prey and booty, that ourselves at last On our own soil and native territory, May be no longer our own lords and masters! 35 An excellent scheme! No, no! They must be off, Off, off! away! we want no such neighbours.

Tertsky. Nay, yield them up that dot, that speck of land— It goes not from your portion. If you win The game what matters it to you who pays it? 40

Wallenstein. Off with them, off! Thou understand'st not this. Never shall it be said of me, I parcelled My native land away, dismembered Germany, Betrayed it to a foreigner, in order To come with stealthy tread, and filch away 45 My own share of the plunder—Never! never!— No foreign power shall strike root in the empire, And least of all, these Goths! these hunger-wolves! Who send such envious, hot and greedy glances T'wards the rich blessings of our German lands! 50 I'll have their aid to cast and draw my nets, But not a single fish of all the draught Shall they come in for.

Tertsky. You will deal, however, More fairly with the Saxons? They lose patience While you shift ground and make so many curves. 55 Say, to what purpose all these masks? Your friends Are plunged in doubts, baffled, and led astray in you. There's Oxenstirn, there's Arnheim—neither knows What he should think of your procrastinations. And in the end I prove the liar: all 60 Passes through me. I have not even your hand-writing.

Wallenstein. I never give my handwriting; thou knowest it.

Tertsky. But how can it be known that you're in earnest, If the act follows not upon the word? You must yourself acknowledge, that in all 65 Your intercourses hitherto with the enemy You might have done with safety all you have done, Had you meant nothing further than to gull him For the Emperor's service.

Wallenstein (after a pause, during which he looks narrowly on Tertsky). And from whence dost thou know That I'm not gulling him for the Emperor's service? 70 Whence knowest thou that I'm not gulling all of you? Dost thou know me so well? When made I thee The intendant of my secret purposes? I am not conscious that I ever open'd My inmost thoughts to thee. The Emperor, it is true, 75 Hath dealt with me amiss; and if I would, I could repay him with usurious interest For the evil he hath done me. It delights me To know my power; but whether I shall use it, Of that, I should have thought that thou could'st speak 80 No wiselier than thy fellows.

Tertsky. So hast thou always played thy game with us.

[Enter ILLO.

FOOTNOTES:

[625:1] This passing off of his real irresolution and fancy-dalliance for depth of Reserve and for Plan formed within the magic circle of his own inapproachable spirits is very fine; but still it is not tragic—nay scarce obvious enough to be altogether dramatic, if in this word we involve theatre-representation. Iago (so far only analogous to Wallenstein as in him an Impulse is the source of his conduct rather than the motive), always acting is not the object of Interest, [but] derives a constant interest from Othello, on whom he is acting; from Desdemona, Cassio, every one; and, besides, for the purpose of theatric comprehensibility he is furnished with a set of outside motives that actually pass with the groundling for the true springs of action. MS. R.

LINENOTES:

[Before 1] Wallenstein (in deep thought to himself). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[37] we 1800

[62] never 1800.

[63] known 1800.

[69] thou 1800.

[70] not 1800.

[72] me 1800.

[76] would 1800.

[79] power 1800.

SCENE XI

ILLO, WALLENSTEIN, TERTSKY.

Wallenstein. How stand affairs without? Are they prepared?

Illo. You'll find them in the very mood you wish. They know about the Emperor's requisitions, And are tumultuous.

Wallenstein. How hath Isolan Declared himself?

Illo. He's yours, both soul and body, 5 Since you built up again his Faro-bank.

Wallenstein. And which way doth Kolatto bend? Hast thou Made sure of Tiefenbach and Deodate?

Illo. What Piccolomini does, that they do too.

Wallenstein. You mean then I may venture somewhat with them? 10

Illo.—If you are assured of the Piccolomini.

Wallenstein. Not more assured of mine own self.

Tertsky. And yet I would you trusted not so much to Octavio, The fox!

Wallenstein. Thou teachest me to know my man? Sixteen campaigns I have made with that old warrior. 15 Besides, I have his horoscope, We both are born beneath like stars—in short To this belongs its own particular aspect, If therefore thou canst warrant me the rest——

Illo. There is among them all but this one voice, 20 You must not lay down the command. I hear They mean to send a deputation to you.

Wallenstein. If I'm in aught to bind myself to them, They too must bind themselves to me.

Illo. Of course.

Wallenstein. Their words of honour they must give, their oaths, 25 Give them in writing to me, promising Devotion to my service unconditional.

Illo. Why not?

Tertsky. Devotion unconditional? The exception of their duties towards Austria They'll always place among the premises. 30 With this reserve——

Wallenstein. All unconditional! No premises, no reserves.

Illo. A thought has struck me. Does not Count Tertsky give us a set banquet This evening?

Tertsky. Yes; and all the Generals Have been invited.

Illo (to Wallenstein). Say, will you here fully 35 Commission me to use my own discretion? I'll gain for you the Generals' words of honour, Even as you wish.

Wallenstein. Gain me their signatures! How you come by them, that is your concern.

Illo. And if I bring it to you, black on white, 40 That all the leaders who are present here Give themselves up to you, without condition; Say, will you then—then will you shew yourself In earnest, and with some decisive action Make trial of your luck?

Wallenstein. The signatures! 45 Gain me the signatures.

Illo. [628:1]Seize, seize the hour Ere it slips from you. Seldom comes the moment In life, which is indeed sublime and weighty. To make a great decision possible, O! many things, all transient and all rapid, 50 Must meet at once: and, haply, they thus met May by that confluence be enforced to pause Time long enough for wisdom, though too short, Far, far too short a time for doubt and scruple! This is that moment. See, our army chieftains, 55 Our best, our noblest, are assembled around you, Their kinglike leader! On your nod they wait. The single threads, which here your prosperous fortune Hath woven together in one potent web Instinct with destiny, O let them not 60 Unravel of themselves. If you permit These chiefs to separate, so unanimous Bring you them not a second time together. 'Tis the high tide that heaves the stranded ship, And every individual's spirit waxes 65 In the great stream of multitudes. Behold They are still here, here still! But soon the war Bursts them once more asunder, and in small Particular anxieties and interests Scatters their spirit, and the sympathy 70 Of each man with the whole. He, who to-day Forgets himself, forced onward with the stream, Will become sober, seeing but himself, Feel only his own weakness, and with speed Will face about, and march on in the old 75 High road of duty, the old broad-trodden road, And seek but to make shelter in good plight.

Wallenstein. The time is not yet come.

Tertsky. So you say always. But when will it be time?

Wallenstein. When I shall say it.

Illo. You'll wait upon the stars, and on their hours, 80 Till the earthly hour escapes you. O, believe me, In your own bosom are your destiny's stars. Confidence in yourself, prompt resolution, This is your Venus! and the sole malignant, The only one that harmeth you is Doubt. 85

Wallenstein. Thou speakest as thou understand'st. How oft And many a time I've told thee, Jupiter, That lustrous god, was setting at thy birth. Thy visual power subdues no mysteries; Mole-eyed, thou mayest but burrow in the earth, 90 [629:1]Blind as that subterrestrial, who with wan, Lead-coloured shine lighted thee into life. The common, the terrestrial, thou mayest see, With serviceable cunning knit together The nearest with the nearest; and therein 95 I trust thee and believe thee! but whate'er Full of mysterious import Nature weaves, And fashions in the depths—the spirit's ladder, That from this gross and visible world of dust Even to the starry world, with thousand rounds, 100 Builds itself up; on which the unseen powers Move up and down on heavenly ministries— The circles in the circles, that approach The central sun with ever-narrowing orbit— These see the glance alone, the unsealed eye, 105 Of Jupiter's glad children born in lustre.

[He walks across the chamber, then returns, and standing still, proceeds.

The heavenly constellations make not merely The day and nights, summer and spring, not merely Signify to the husbandman the seasons Of sowing and of harvest. Human action, 110 That is the seed too of contingencies, Strewed on the dark land of futurity In hopes to reconcile the powers of fate. Whence it behoves us to seek out the seed-time, To watch the stars, select their proper hours, 115 And trace with searching eye the heavenly houses, Whether the enemy of growth and thriving Hide himself not, malignant, in his corner. Therefore permit me my own time. Meanwhile Do you your part. As yet I cannot say 120 What I shall do—only, give way I will not. Depose me too they shall not. On these points You may rely.

Page (entering). My Lords, the Generals.

Wallenstein. Let them come in.

FOOTNOTES:

[628:1] Here is an instance of the defect classed No. 1 in the blank leaf. With what propriety is this speech of profound moral insight put in the mouth of that stupid, foolish Illo? MS. R.

[629:1] This is said, and finely too; but in what one instance is it shown realized in Illo? This is a common fault of a man of genius whose genius is not however creative but ideative. There is just such another in my Maria as described by Osorio, the Character exists only in the description. MS. R.

LINENOTES:

[After 17] (with an air of mystery) 1800, 1828, 1829.

[21] must 1800.

[27] unconditional 1800.

[28] unconditional 1800.

[31] unconditional 1800.

[32] Wallenstein (shaking his head). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[39] your 1800.

[43] then—then 1800.

[66] multitudes] multitude 1800.

[79] when 1800.

[108] nights] night 1800, 1828, 1829.

[121] I 1800.

SCENE XII

WALLENSTEIN, TERTSKY, ILLO.—To them enter QUESTENBERG, OCTAVIO, and MAX PICCOLOMINI, BUTLER, ISOLANI, MARADAS, and three other Generals. WALLENSTEIN motions QUESTENBERG, who in consequence takes the Chair directly opposite to him; the others follow, arranging themselves according to their rank.

Wallenstein. I have understood, 'tis true, the sum and import Of your instructions, Questenberg, have weighed them, And formed my final, absolute resolve; Yet it seems fitting, that the Generals Should hear the will of the Emperor from your mouth. 5 May't please you then to open your commission Before these noble Chieftains.

Questenberg. I am ready To obey you; but will first entreat your Highness, And all these noble Chieftains, to consider, The Imperial dignity and sovereign right 10 Speaks from my mouth, and not my own presumption.

Wallenstein. We excuse all preface.

Questenberg. When his Majesty The Emperor to his courageous armies Presented in the person of Duke Friedland A most experienced and renowned commander, 15 He did it in glad hope and confidence To give thereby to the fortune of the war A rapid and auspicious change. The onset Was favourable to his royal wishes. Bohemia was delivered from the Saxons, 20 The Swede's career of conquest checked! These lands Began to draw breath freely, as Duke Friedland From all the streams of Germany forced hither The scattered armies of the enemy, Hither invoked as round one magic circle 25 The Rhinegrave, Bernhard, Banner, Oxenstirn, Yea, and that never-conquered King himself; Here finally, before the eye of Nrnberg, The fearful game of battle to decide.

Wallenstein. May't please you to the point. 30

Questenberg. In Nrnberg's camp the Swedish monarch left His fame—in Ltzen's plains his life. But who Stood not astounded, when victorious Friedland After this day of triumph, this proud day, Marched toward Bohemia with the speed of flight, 35 And vanished from the theatre of war; While the young Weimar hero forced his way Into Franconia, to the Danube, like Some delving winter-stream, which, where it rushes, Makes its own channel; with such sudden speed 40 He marched, and now at once 'fore Regenspurg Stood to the affright of all good Catholic Christians. Then did Bavaria's well-deserving Prince Entreat swift aidance in his extreme need; The Emperor sends seven horsemen to Duke Friedland, 45 Seven horsemen couriers sends he with the entreaty: He superadds his own, and supplicates Where as the sovereign lord he can command. In vain his supplication! At this moment The Duke hears only his old hate and grudge, 50 Barters the general good to gratify Private revenge—and so falls Regenspurg.

Wallenstein. Max, to what period of the war alludes he? My recollection fails me here.

Max. He means When we were in Silesia.

Wallenstein. Ay! Is it so! 55 But what had we to do there?

Max. To beat out The Swedes and Saxons from the province.

Wallenstein. True. In that description which the Minister gave I seemed to have forgotten the whole war. [To QUESTENBERG. Well, but proceed a little.

Questenberg. Yes! at length 60 Beside the river Oder did the Duke Assert his ancient fame. Upon the fields Of Steinau did the Swedes lay down their arms, Subdued without a blow. And here, with others, The righteousness of Heaven to his avenger 65 Delivered that long-practised stirrer-up Of insurrection, that curse-laden torch And kindler of this war, Matthias Thur. But he had fallen into magnanimous hands; Instead of punishment he found reward, 70 And with rich presents did the Duke dismiss The arch-foe of his Emperor.

Wallenstein (laughs). I know, I know you had already in Vienna Your windows and balconies all forestalled To see him on the executioner's cart. 75 I might have lost the battle, lost it too With infamy, and still retained your graces— But, to have cheated them of a spectacle, Oh! that the good folks of Vienna never, No, never can forgive me.

Questenberg. So Silesia 80 Was freed, and all things loudly called the Duke Into Bavaria, now pressed hard on all sides. And he did put his troops in motion: slowly, Quite at his ease, and by the longest road He traverses Bohemia; but ere ever 85 He hath once seen the enemy, faces round, Breaks up the march, and takes to winter quarters.

Wallenstein. The troops were pitiably destitute Of every necessary, every comfort. The winter came. What thinks his Majesty 90 His troops are made of? Arn't we men? subjected Like other men to wet, and cold, and all The circumstances of necessity? O miserable lot of the poor soldier! Wherever he comes in, all flee before him, 95 And when he goes away, the general curse Follows him on his route. All must be seized, Nothing is given him. And compelled to seize From every man, he's every man's abhorrence. Behold, here stand my Generals. Karaffa! 100 Count Deodate! Butler! Tell this man How long the soldiers' pay is in arrears.

Butler. Already a full year.

Wallenstein. And 'tis the hire That constitutes the hireling's name and duties, The soldier's pay is the soldier's covenant.[634:1] 105

Questenberg. Ah! this is a far other tone from that In which the Duke spoke eight, nine years ago.

Wallenstein. Yes! 'tis my fault, I know it: I myself Have spoilt the Emperor by indulging him. Nine years ago, during the Danish war, 110 I raised him up a force, a mighty force, Forty or fifty thousand men, that cost him Of his own purse no doit. Through Saxony The fury goddess of the war marched on, E'en to the surf-rocks of the Baltic, bearing 115 The terrors of his name. That was a time! In the whole Imperial realm no name like mine Honoured with festival and celebration— And Albrecht Wallenstein, it was the title Of the third jewel in his crown! 120 But at the Diet, when the Princes met At Regenspurg, there, there the whole broke out, There 'twas laid open, there it was made known, Out of what money-bag I had paid the host. And what was now my thank, what had I now, 125 That I, a faithful servant of the Sovereign, Had loaded on myself the people's curses, And let the Princes of the empire pay The expenses of this war, that aggrandizes The Emperor alone—What thanks had I! 130 What? I was offered up to their complaints, Dismissed, degraded!

Questenberg. But your Highness knows What little freedom he possessed of action In that disastrous diet.

Wallenstein. Death and hell! I had that which could have procured him freedom. 135 No! Since 'twas proved so inauspicious to me To serve the Emperor at the empire's cost, I have been taught far other trains of thinking Of the empire, and the diet of the empire. From the Emperor, doubtless, I received this staff, 140 But now I hold it as the empire's general— For the common weal, the universal interest, And no more for that one man's aggrandizement! But to the point. What is it that's desired of me?

Questenberg. First, his imperial Majesty hath willed 145 That without pretexts of delay the army Evacuate Bohemia.

Wallenstein. In this season? And to what quarter wills the Emperor That we direct our course?

Questenberg. To the enemy. His Majesty resolves, that Regenspurg 150 Be purified from the enemy, ere Easter, That Lutheranism may be no longer preached In that cathedral, nor heretical Defilement desecrate the celebration Of that pure festival.

Wallenstein. My generals, 155 Can this be realized?

Illo. 'Tis not possible.

Butler. It can't be realized.

Questenberg. The Emperor Already hath commanded Colonel Suys To advance toward Bavaria!

Wallenstein. What did Suys?

Questenberg. That which his duty prompted. He advanced! 160

Wallenstein. What? he advanced? And I, his general, Had given him orders, peremptory orders, Not to desert his station! Stands it thus With my authority? Is this the obedience Due to my office, which being thrown aside 165 No war can be conducted? Chieftains, speak! You be the judges, generals! What deserves That officer, who of his oath neglectful Is guilty of contempt of orders?

Illo. Death.

Wallenstein. Count Piccolomini! what has he deserved? 170

Max Piccolomini. According to the letter of the law, Death.

Isolani. Death.

Butler. Death, by the laws of war.

[QUESTENBERG rises from his seat, WALLENSTEIN follows; all the rest rise.

Wallenstein. To this the law condemns him, and not I. And if I shew him favour, 'twill arise From the reverence that I owe my Emperor. 175

Questenberg. If so, I can say nothing further—here!

Wallenstein. I accepted the command but on conditions! And this the first, that to the diminution Of my authority no human being, Not even the Emperor's self, should be entitled 180 To do aught, or to say aught, with the army. If I stand warranter of the event, Placing my honour and my head in pledge, Needs must I have full mastery in all The means thereto. What rendered this Gustavus 185 Resistless, and unconquered upon earth? This—that he was the monarch in his army! A monarch, one who is indeed a monarch, Was never yet subdued but by his equal. But to the point! The best is yet to come. 190 Attend now, generals!

Questenberg. The prince Cardinal Begins his route at the approach of spring From the Milanese; and leads a Spanish army Through Germany into the Netherlands. That he may march secure and unimpeded, 195 'Tis the Emperor's will you grant him a detachment Of eight horse-regiments from the army here.

Wallenstein. Yes, yes! I understand!—Eight regiments! Well, Right well concerted, father Lamormain! Eight thousand horse! Yes, yes! 'Tis as it should be! 200 I see it coming!

Questenberg. There is nothing coming. All stands in front: the counsel of state-prudence, The dictate of necessity!——

Wallenstein. What then? What, my Lord Envoy? May I not be suffered To understand, that folks are tired of seeing 205 The sword's hilt in my grasp: and that your court Snatch eagerly at this pretence, and use The Spanish title, to drain off my forces, To lead into the empire a new army Unsubjected to my control. To throw me 210 Plumply aside,—I am still too powerful for you To venture that. My stipulation runs, That all the Imperial forces shall obey me Where'er the German is the native language. Of Spanish troops and of Prince Cardinals 215 That take their route, as visitors, through the empire, There stands no syllable in my stipulation. No syllable! And so the politic court Steals in a-tiptoe, and creeps round behind it; First makes me weaker, then to be dispensed with, 220 Till it dares strike at length a bolder blow And make short work with me. What need of all these crooked ways, Lord Envoy? Straight-forward man! His compact with me pinches The Emperor. He would that I moved off!— 225 Well!—I will gratify him!

[Here there commences an agitation among the Generals which increases continually.

It grieves me for my noble officers' sakes! I see not yet, by what means they will come at The moneys they have advanced, or how obtain The recompense their services demand. 230 Still a new leader brings new claimants forward, And prior merit superannuates quickly. There serve here many foreigners in the army, And were the man in all else brave and gallant, I was not wont to make nice scrutiny 235 After his pedigree or catechism. This will be otherwise, i'the time to come. Well—me no longer it concerns. [He seats himself.

Max Piccolomini. Forbid it. Heaven, that it should come to this! Our troops will swell in dreadful fermentation— 240 The Emperor is abused—it cannot be.

Isolani. It cannot be; all goes to instant wreck.

Wallenstein. Thou hast said truly, faithful Isolani! What we with toil and foresight have built up, Will go to wreck—all go to instant wreck. 245 What then? another chieftain is soon found, Another army likewise (who dares doubt it?) Will flock from all sides to the Emperor At the first beat of his recruiting drum.

[During this speech, ISOLANI, TERTSKY, ILLO and MARADAS talk confusedly with great agitation.

Max Piccolomini (busily and passionately going from one to another, and soothing them). Hear, my commander! Hear me, generals! 250 Let me conjure you, Duke! Determine nothing, Till we have met and represented to you Our joint remonstrances.—Nay, calmer! Friends! I hope all may be yet set right again.

Tertsky. Away! let us away! in the antechamber 255 Find we the others. [They go.

Butler (to Questenberg). If good counsel gain Due audience from your wisdom, my Lord Envoy! You will be cautious how you shew yourself In public for some hours to come—or hardly Will that gold key protect you from maltreatment. 260

[Commotions heard from without.

Wallenstein. A salutary counsel——Thou, Octavio! Wilt answer for the safety of our guest. Farewell, Von Questenberg! [QUESTENBERG is about to speak. Nay, not a word. Not one word more of that detested subject! You have performed your duty—We know how 265 To separate the office from the man.

[As QUESTENBERG is going off with OCTAVIO, GOETZ, TIEFENBACH, KOLATTO, press in; several other Generals following them.

Goetz. Where's he who means to rob us of our general?

Tiefenbach (at the same time). What are we forced to hear? That thou wilt leave us?

Kolatto (at the same time). We will live with thee, we will die with thee.

Wallenstein (pointing to Illo). There! the Field-Marshal knows our will. [Exit. 270

FOOTNOTES:

[634:1] The original is not translatable into English:

——Und sein Sold Muss dem Soldaten werden, darnach heisst er.

It might perhaps have been thus rendered:

'And that for which he sold his services, The soldier must receive.'

But a false or doubtful etymology is no more than a dull pun.

LINENOTES:

[Before 1] WALLENSTEIN, TERTSKY, &c. . . . rank. There reigns a momentary silence. 1800, 1828, 1829.

[56] there 1800.

[79] that 1800.

[83] did 1800.

[91] Arn't] An't 1800, 1828, 1829.

[105] pay . . . covenant 1800.

[135] I 1800.

[Before 170] Wallenstein (raising his voice, as all, but Illo, had remained silent, and seemingly scrupulous). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[171] Max Piccolomini (after a long pause). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[176] so . . . here 1800.

[182] event 1800.

[206] my 1800.

[244] we 1800.

[270] Wallenstein (with stateliness and, &c.). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[After 270] [While all are going off the stage, the curtain drops. 1800, 1828, 1829.



ACT II

SCENE I

SCENE—A small Chamber.

ILLO and TERTSKY.

Tertsky. Now for this evening's business! How intend you To manage with the generals at the banquet?

Illo. Attend! We frame a formal declaration, Wherein we to the Duke consign ourselves Collectively, to be and to remain 5 His both with life and limb, and not to spare The last drop of our blood for him, provided So doing we infringe no oath nor duty, We may be under to the Emperor.—Mark! This reservation we expressly make 10 In a particular clause, and save the conscience. Now hear! This formula so framed and worded Will be presented to them for perusal Before the banquet. No one will find in it Cause of offence or scruple. Hear now further! 15 After the feast, when now the vap'ring wine Opens the heart, and shuts the eyes, we let A counterfeited paper, in the which This one particular clause has been left out, Go round for signatures.

Tertsky. How? think you then 20 That they'll believe themselves bound by an oath, Which we had tricked them into by a juggle?

Illo. We shall have caught and caged them! Let them then Beat their wings bare against the wires, and rave Loud as they may against our treachery, 25 At court their signatures will be believed Far more than their most holy affirmations. Traitors they are, and must be; therefore wisely Will make a virtue of necessity.

Tertsky. Well, well, it shall content me; let but something 30 Be done, let only some decisive blow Set us in motion.

Illo. Besides, 'tis of subordinate importance How, or how far, we may thereby propel The generals. 'Tis enough that we persuade 35 The Duke, that they are his—Let him but act In his determined mood, as if he had them, And he will have them. Where he plunges in, He makes a whirlpool, and all stream down to it.

Tertsky. His policy is such a labyrinth, 40 That many a time when I have thought myself Close at his side, he's gone at once, and left me Ignorant of the ground where I was standing. He lends the enemy his ear, permits me To write to them, to Arnheim; to Sesina 45 Himself comes forward blank and undisguised; Talks with us by the hour about his plans, And when I think I have him—off at once—— He has slipped from me, and appears as if He had no scheme, but to retain his place. 50

Illo. He give up his old plans! I'll tell you, friend! His soul is occupied with nothing else, Even in his sleep—They are his thoughts, his dreams, That day by day he questions for this purpose The motions of the planets——

Tertsky. Ay! you know 55 This night, that is now coming, he with Seni Shuts himself up in the astrological tower To make joint observations—for I hear, It is to be a night of weight and crisis; And something great, and of long expectation, 60 Is to make its procession in the heaven.

Illo. Come! be we bold and make dispatch. The work In this next day or two must thrive and grow More than it has for years. And let but only Things first turn up auspicious here below—— 65 Mark what I say—the right stars too will shew themselves. Come, to the generals. All is in the glow, And must be beaten while 'tis malleable.

Tertsky. Do you go thither, Illo. I must stay And wait here for the Countess Tertsky. Know 70 That we too are not idle. Break one string, A second is in readiness.

Illo. Yes! Yes! I saw your Lady smile with such sly meaning. What's in the wind?

Tertsky. A secret. Hush! she comes. [Exit ILLO.

LINENOTES:

[6] His 1800.

[7] him 1800.

[8] nor] or 1800, 1828, 1829.

[31] done 1800, 1828, 1829.

[38] will 1800.

[70] wait 1800.

SCENE II

The COUNTESS steps out from a Closet.

COUNT and COUNTESS TERTSKY.

Tertsky. Well—is she coming?—I can keep him back No longer.

Countess. She will be there instantly. You only send him.

Tertsky. I am not quite certain, I must confess it, Countess, whether or not We are earning the Duke's thanks hereby. You know, 5 No ray has broken from him on this point. You have o'er-ruled me, and yourself know best How far you dare proceed.

Countess. I take it on me.

[Talking to herself, while she is advancing.

Here's no need of full powers and commissions— My cloudy Duke! we understand each other— 10 And without words. What, could I not unriddle, Wherefore the daughter should be sent for hither, Why first he, and no other, should be chosen To fetch her hither! This sham of betrothing her To a bridegroom,[641:1] whom no one knows—No! no!—— 15 This may blind others! I see through thee, Brother! But it beseems thee not, to draw a card At such a game. Not yet!—It all remains Mutely delivered up to my finessing—— Well—thou shalt not have been deceived, Duke Friedland! In her who is thy sister.—— 20

Servant (enters). The commanders!

Tertsky (to the Countess). Take care you heat his fancy and affections— Possess him with a reverie, and send him, Absent and dreaming, to the banquet; that He may not boggle at the signature. 25

Countess. Take you care of your guests!—Go, send him hither.

Tertsky. All rests upon his undersigning.

Countess. Go to your guests! Go——

Illo (comes back). Where art staying, Tertsky? The house is full, and all expecting you. 30

Tertsky. Instantly! Instantly! [To the COUNTESS. And let him not Stay here too long. It might awake suspicion In the old man——

Countess. A truce with your precautions!

[Exeunt TERTSKY and ILLO.

FOOTNOTES:

[641:1] In Germany, after honourable addresses have been paid and formally accepted, the lovers are called Bride and Bridegroom, even though the marriage should not take place till years afterwards.

LINENOTES:

[6] broken] broke out 1800, 1828, 1829.

[13] he 1800, 1828, 1829.

[15] whom] when 1800, 1828, 1829.

[28] Countess (interrupting him). 1800, 1828, 1829.

SCENE III

COUNTESS, MAX PICCOLOMINI.

Max. Aunt Tertsky? may I venture?

[Advances to the middle of the stage, and looks around him with uneasiness.

She's not here! Where is she?

Countess. Look but somewhat narrowly In yonder corner, lest perhaps she lie Conceal'd behind that screen.

Max. There lie her gloves![642:1]

[Snatches at them, but the COUNTESS takes them herself.

You unkind Lady! You refuse me this— 5 You make it an amusement to torment me.

Countess. And this the thanks you give me for my trouble?

Max. O, if you felt the oppression at my heart! Since we've been here, so to constrain myself— With such poor stealth to hazard words and glances— 10 These, these are not my habits!

Countess. You have still Many new habits to acquire, young friend! But on this proof of your obedient temper I must continue to insist; and only On this condition can I play the agent 15 For your concerns.

Max. But wherefore comes she not? Where is she?

Countess. Into my hands you must place it Whole and entire. Whom could you find, indeed, More zealously affected to your interest? No soul on earth must know it—not your father. 20 He must not above all.

Max. Alas! what danger? Here is no face on which I might concentre All the enraptured soul stirs up within me. O Lady! tell me. Is all changed around me? Or is it only I? I find myself, 25 As among strangers! Not a trace is left Of all my former wishes, former joys. Where has it vanished to? There was a time When even, methought, with such a world as this I was not discontented. Now how flat! 30 How stale! No life, no bloom, no flavour in it! My comrades are intolerable to me. My father—Even to him I can say nothing. My arms, my military duties—O! They are such wearying toys!

Countess. But, gentle friend! 35 I must entreat it of your condescension, You would be pleased to sink your eye, and favour With one short glance or two this poor stale world, Where even now much, and of much moment, Is on the eve of its completion.

Max. Something, 40 I can't but know, is going forward round me. I see it gathering, crowding, driving on, In wild uncustomary movements. Well, In due time, doubtless, it will reach even me. Where think you I have been, dear lady? Nay, 45 No raillery. The turmoil of the camp, The spring-tide of acquaintance rolling in, The pointless jest, the empty conversation, Oppress'd and stifled me. I gasped for air— I could not breathe—I was constrain'd to fly, 50 To seek a silence out for my full heart; And a pure spot wherein to feel my happiness. No smiling, Countess! In the church was I. There is a cloister here to the heaven's gate,[644:1] Thither I went, there found myself alone. 55 Over the altar hung a holy mother; A wretched painting 'twas, yet 'twas the friend That I was seeking in this moment. Ah, How oft have I beheld that glorious form In splendour, mid ecstatic worshippers; 60 Yet, still it moved me not! and now at once Was my devotion cloudless as my love.

Countess. Enjoy your fortune and felicity! Forget the world around you. Meantime, friendship Shall keep strict vigils for you, anxious, active. 65 Only be manageable when that friendship Points you the road to full accomplishment. How long may it be since you declared your passion?

Max. This morning did I hazard the first word.

Countess. This morning the first time in twenty days? 70

Max. 'Twas at that hunting-castle, betwixt here And Nepomuck, where you had joined us, and— That was the last relay of the whole journey! In a balcony we were standing mute, And gazing out upon the dreary field: 75 Before us the dragoons were riding onward, The safe-guard which the Duke had sent us—heavy The inquietude of parting lay upon me, And trembling ventured I at length these words: This all reminds me, noble maiden, that 80 To-day I must take leave of my good fortune. A few hours more, and you will find a father, Will see yourself surrounded by new friends, And I henceforth shall be but as a stranger, Lost in the many—'Speak with my aunt Tertsky!' 85 With hurrying voice she interrupted me. She faltered. I beheld a glowing red Possess her beautiful cheeks, and from the ground Raised slowly up her eye met mine—no longer Did I control myself.

[The PRINCESS THEKLA appears at the door, and remains standing, observed by the COUNTESS, but not by PICCOLOMINI.

With instant boldness 90 I caught her in my arms, my mouth touched hers; There was a rustling in the room close by; It parted us—'Twas you. What since has happened, You know.

Countess. And is it your excess of modesty; Or are you so incurious, that you do not 95 Ask me too of my secret?

Max. Of your secret?

Countess. Why, yes! When in the instant after you I stepped into the room, and found my niece there, What she in this first moment of the heart Ta'en with surprise—

Max. Well? 100

FOOTNOTES:

[642:1] All this is terribly childish, at least appears so to an English lover. Besides it is modern French Comedy—for which, by the by, we want a word to distinguish it from the toto caelo different Comedy which Shakespere and his contemporaries worked up into their Tragedy with such felicity of action and reaction. MS. R.

[644:1] I am doubtful whether this be the dedication of the cloister or the name of one of the city gates, near which it stood. I have translated it in the former sense; but fearful of having made some blunder, I add the original—Es ist ein Kloster hier zur Himmelspforte.

LINENOTES:

Max (peeping in on the stage shyly). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[7] thanks] thank 1800, 1828, 1829.

[8] my 1800, 1828, 1829.

[17] my 1800, 1828, 1829.

[21] He 1800, 1828, 1829.

[72] you 1800, 1828, 1829.

[91] mouth] lips MS. R.

[94] Countess (after a pause, with a stolen glance at Thekla). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[96] your 1800, 1828, 1829.

[100] Max (with eagerness). 1800, 1828, 1829.

SCENE IV

THEKLA (hurries forward), COUNTESS, MAX PICCOLOMINI.

Thekla (to the Countess). Spare yourself the trouble: That hears he better from myself.

Max. My Princess! What have you let her hear me say, aunt Tertsky?

Thekla (to the Countess). Has he been here long?

Countess. Yes; and soon must go. Where have you stayed so long?

Thekla. Alas! my mother 5 Wept so again! and I—I see her suffer, Yet cannot keep myself from being happy.

Max. Now once again I have courage to look on you. To-day at noon I could not. The dazzle of the jewels that play'd round you 10 Hid the beloved from me.

Thekla. Then you saw me With your eye only—and not with your heart?

Max. This morning, when I found you in the circle Of all your kindred, in your father's arms, Beheld myself an alien in this circle, 15 O! what an impulse felt I in that moment To fall upon his neck, to call him father! But his stern eye o'erpowered the swelling passion— It dared not but be silent. And those brilliants, That like a crown of stars enwreathed your brows, 20 They scared me too! O wherefore, wherefore should he At the first meeting spread as 'twere the ban Of excommunication round you, wherefore Dress up the angel as for sacrifice, And cast upon the light and joyous heart 25 The mournful burthen of his station? Fitly May love dare woo for love; but such a splendour Might none but monarchs venture to approach.

Thekla. Hush! not a word more of this mummery. You see how soon the burthen is thrown off. 30

[To the COUNTESS.

He is not in spirits. Wherefore is he not? 'Tis you, aunt, that have made him all so gloomy! He had quite another nature on the journey— So calm, so bright, so joyous eloquent. [To MAX. It was my wish to see you always so, 35 And never otherwise!

Max. You find yourself In your great father's arms, belovd lady! All in a new world, which does homage to you, And which, wer't only by its novelty, Delights your eye.

Thekla. Yes; I confess to you 40 That many things delight me here: this camp, This motley stage of warriors, which renews So manifold the image of my fancy, And binds to life, binds to reality, What hitherto had but been present to me 45 As a sweet dream!

Max. Alas! not so to me. It makes a dream of my reality. Upon some island in the ethereal heights I've lived for these last days. This mass of men Forces me down to earth. It is a bridge 50 That, reconducting to my former life, Divides me and my heaven.

Thekla. The game of life Looks cheerful, when one carries in one's heart The inalienable treasure. 'Tis a game, Which having once reviewed, I turn more joyous 55 Back to my deeper and appropriate bliss. In this short time that I've been present here, What new unheard-of things have I not seen! And yet they all must give place to the wonder Which this mysterious castle guards.

Countess. And what 60 Can this be then? Methought I was acquainted With all the dusky corners of this house.

Thekla. Ay, but the road thereto is watched by spirits, Two griffins still stand sentry at the door.

Countess (laughs). The astrological tower!—How happens it 65 That this same sanctuary, whose access Is to all others so impracticable, Opens before you even at your approach?

Thekla. A dwarfish old man with a friendly face And snow-white hairs, whose gracious services 70 Were mine at first sight, opened me the doors.

Max. That is the Duke's astrologer, old Seni.

Thekla. He questioned me on many points; for instance, When I was born, what month, and on what day, Whether by day or in the night.

Countess. He wished 75 To erect a figure for your horoscope.

Thekla. My hand too he examined, shook his head With much sad meaning, and the lines methought, Did not square over truly with his wishes.

Countess. Well, Princess, and what found you in this tower? 80 My highest privilege has been to snatch A side-glance, and away!

Thekla. [647:1]It was a strange Sensation that came o'er me, when at first From the broad sunshine I stepped in; and now The narrowing line of day-light, that ran after 85 The closing door, was gone; and all about me 'Twas pale and dusky night, with many shadows Fantastically cast. Here six or seven Colossal statues, and all kings, stood round me In a half-circle. Each one in his hand 90 A sceptre bore, and on his head a star; And in the tower no other light was there But from these stars: all seemed to come from them. 'These are the planets,' said that low old man, 'They govern worldly fates, and for that cause 95 Are imaged here as kings. He farthest from you, Spiteful, and cold, an old man melancholy, With bent and yellow forehead, he is Saturn. He opposite, the king with the red light, An arm'd man for the battle, that is Mars: 100 And both these bring but little luck to man.' But at his side a lovely lady stood, The star upon her head was soft and bright, And that was Venus, the bright star of joy. On the left hand, lo! Mercury, with wings. 105 Quite in the middle glittered silver-bright A cheerful man, and with a monarch's mien; And this was Jupiter, my father's star: And at his side I saw the Sun and Moon.

Max. O never rudely will I blame his faith 110 In the might of stars and angels! 'Tis not merely The human being's Pride that peoples space With life and mystical predominance; Since likewise for the stricken heart of Love This visible nature, and this common world, 115 Is all too narrow: yea, a deeper import Lurks in the legend told my infant years Than lies upon that truth, we live to learn. For fable is Love's world, his home, his birth-place; Delightedly dwells he 'mong fays and talismans, 120 And spirits; and delightedly believes Divinities, being himself divine. The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The Power, the Beauty, and the Majesty, 125 That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, Or chasms and wat'ry depths; all these have vanished. They live no longer in the faith of reason! But still the heart doth need a language, still 130 Doth the old instinct bring back the old names, And to yon starry world they now are gone, Spirits or gods, that used to share this earth With man as with their friend;[649:1] and to the lover Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky 135 Shoot influence down: and even at this day 'Tis Jupiter who brings whate'er is great, And Venus who brings every thing that's fair!

Thekla. And if this be the science of the stars, I too, with glad and zealous industry, 140 Will learn acquaintance with this cheerful faith. It is a gentle and affectionate thought, That in immeasurable heights above us, At our first birth, the wreath of love was woven, With sparkling stars for flowers.

Countess. Not only roses, 145 But thorns too hath the heaven; and well for you Leave they your wreath of love inviolate; What Venus twined, the bearer of glad fortune, The sullen orb of Mars soon tears to pieces.

Max. Soon will his gloomy empire reach its close. 150 Blest be the General's zeal: into the laurel Will he inweave the olive-branch, presenting Peace to the shouting nations. Then no wish Will have remained for his great heart! Enough Has he performed for glory, and can now 155 Live for himself and his. To his domains Will he retire; he has a stately seat Of fairest view at Gitschin; Reichenberg, And Friedland Castle, both lie pleasantly— Even to the foot of the huge mountains here 160 Stretches the chase and covers of his forests: His ruling passion, to create the splendid, He can indulge without restraint; can give A princely patronage to every art, And to all worth a Sovereign's protection. 165 Can build, can plant, can watch the starry courses—

Countess. Yet I would have you look, and look again, Before you lay aside your arms, young friend! A gentle bride, as she is, is well worth it, That you should woo and win her with the sword. 170

Max. O, that the sword could win her!

Countess. What was that? Did you hear nothing? Seem'd, as if I heard Tumult and larum in the banquet-room. [Exit COUNTESS.

FOOTNOTES:

[647:1] In this and in Max's reply to it I have taken more liberty than in any other part of the play—except perhaps in Gordon's character of Wallenstein [Act III. Scene ii]. In truth, Max's reply after the first nine lines is almost my own, as are the first seven lines of Thekla's description. The remainder I take a little pride in as a specimen of translation, fully equal, and in diction and rhythmic feeling superior, to the original. S. T. C. MS. R.

[649:1]

No more of talk, where God or Angel Guest With Man, as with his friend, familiar used To sit indulgent.

Paradise Lost, ix. 1-3. 1800, 1828, 1829.

LINENOTES:

[2] Max (stepping backward). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[5] you 1800, 1828, 1829.

[17] father 1800, 1828, 1829.

[26] his 1800, 1828, 1829.

[54] inalienable] unalienable 1800, 1828, 1829.

[After 56] [Breaking off, and in a sportive tone. 1800, 1828, 1829.

[60] Countess (recollecting). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[63] Thekla (smiling). 1800, 1828, 1829.

[126] their] her 1829.

[160] huge] Silesian MS. R.

SCENE V

THEKLA and MAX PICCOLOMINI.

Thekla (as soon us the Countess is out of sight, in a quick low voice to Piccolomini). Don't trust them! They are false!

Max. Impossible!

Thekla. Trust no one here but me. I saw at once, They had a purpose.

Max. Purpose! but what purpose? And how can we be instrumental to it?

Thekla. I know no more than you; but yet believe me: 5 There's some design in this! to make us happy, To realize our union—trust me, love! They but pretend to wish it.

Max. But these Tertskys—— Why use we them at all? Why not your mother? Excellent creature! she deserves from us 10 A full and filial confidence.

Thekla. She doth love you, Doth rate you high before all others—but— But such a secret—she would never have The courage to conceal it from my father. For her own peace of mind we must preserve it 15 A secret from her too.

Max. Why any secret? I love not secrets. Mark, what I will do. I'll throw me at your father's feet—let him Decide upon my fortunes!—He is true, He wears no mask—he hates all crooked ways— 20 He is so good, so noble!

Thekla (falls on his neck). That are you!

Max. You knew him only since this morn; but I Have liv'd ten years already in his presence, And who knows whether in this very moment He is not merely waiting for us both 25 To own our loves, in order to unite us. You are silent!—— You look at me with such a hopelessness! What have you to object against your father?

Thekla. I? Nothing. Only he's so occupied— 30 He has no leisure time to think about The happiness of us two. [Taking his hand tenderly. Follow me! Let us not place too great a faith in men. These Tertskys—we will still be grateful to them For every kindness, but not trust them further 35 Than they deserve;—and in all else rely—— On our own hearts!

Max. O! shall we e'er be happy?

Thekla. Are we not happy now? Art thou not mine? Am I not thine? There lives within my soul A lofty courage—'tis love gives it me! 40 I ought to be less open—ought to hide My heart more from thee—so decorum dictates:[651:1] But where in this place could'st thou seek for truth, If in my mouth thou did'st not find it?

FOOTNOTES:

[651:1] What may not a man write and publish, who writes with the press waiting, and composes p. 86 while the printer is composing p. 85? MS. R.

LINENOTES:

[3] purpose 1800, 1828, 1829.

[18] him 1800, 1828, 1829.

[37] e'er 1800, 1828, 1829.

SCENE VI

To them enters the COUNTESS TERTSKY.

Countess. Come! My husband sends me for you—It is now The latest moment. Part you!

Thekla. O, not yet! It has been scarce a moment.

Countess. Aye! Then time Flies swiftly with your Highness, Princess niece! 5

Max. There is no hurry, aunt.

Countess. Away! Away! The folks begin to miss you. Twice already His father has asked for him.

Thekla. Ha! his father?

Countess. You understand that, niece!

Thekla. Why needs he To go at all to that society? 10 'Tis not his proper company. They may Be worthy men, but he's too young for them. In brief, he suits not such society.

Countess. You mean, you'd rather keep him wholly here?

Thekla. Yes! you have hit it, aunt! That is my meaning. 15 Leave him here wholly! Tell the company—

Countess. What? have you lost your senses, niece?— Count, you remember the conditions. Come!

Max (to Thekla). Lady, I must obey. Farewell, dear lady!

[THEKLA turns away from him with a quick motion.

What say you then, dear lady?

Thekla (without looking at him). Nothing. Go! 20

Max. Can I, when you are angry——

[He draws up to her, their eyes meet, she stands silent a moment, then throws herself into his arms; he presses her fast to his heart.

Countess. Off! Heavens! if any one should come! Hark! What's that noise? It comes this way.——Off!

[MAX tears himself away out of her arms, and goes. The COUNTESS accompanies him. THEKLA follows him with her eyes at first, walks restlessly across the room, then stops, and remains standing, lost in thought. A guitar lies on the table, she seizes it as by a sudden emotion, and after she has played a while an irregular and melancholy symphony, she falls gradually into the music and sings.

Thekla (plays and sings).

The cloud doth gather, the greenwood roar, The damsel paces along the shore; 25 The billows they tumble with might, with might; And she flings out her voice to the darksome night;