TERZKY. 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 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 or duty We may be under to the emperor. Mark! This reservation we expressly make 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! After the feast, when now the vapering 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.
TERZKY. How! think you then That they'll believe themselves bound by an oath, Which we have 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; 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.
TERZKY. Well, well, it shall content me: let but something 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 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.
TERZKY. His policy is such a labyrinth, 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 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.
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——
TERZKY. Ah! you know 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, Takes place in heaven.
ILLO. O that it might take place On earth! The generals are full of zeal, And would with ease be led to anything Rather than lose their chief. Observe, too, that We have at last a fair excuse before us To form a close alliance 'gainst the court, Yet innocent its title, bearing simply That we support him only in command. But in the ardor of pursuit thou knowest Men soon forget the goal from which they started. The object I've in view is that the prince Shall either find them, or believe them ready For every hazard. Opportunity Will tempt him on. Be the great step once taken, Which at Vienna's court can ne'er be pardoned, The force of circumstances will lead him onward The farther still and farther. 'Tis the choice That makes him undecisive—come but need, And all his powers and wisdom will come with it.
TERZKY. 'Tis this alone the enemy awaits To change their chief and join their force with ours.
ILLO. Come! be we bold and make despatch. 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— Mark what I say—the right stars, too, will show themselves. Come to the generals. All is in the glow, And must be beaten while 'tis malleable.
TERZKY. Do you go thither, Illo? I must stay And wait here for the Countess Terzky. Know 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?
TERZKY. A secret. Hush! she comes.
[Exit ILLO.
SCENE II.
The COUNTESS steps out from a closet.
COUNT and COUNTESS TERZKY.
TERZKY. Well—is she coming? I can keep him back No longer.
COUNTESS. She will be here instantly, You only send him.
TERZKY. I am not quite certain, I must confess it, countess, whether or not We are earning the duke's thanks hereby. You know No ray has broke out from him on this point. You have o'erruled 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 heed of full powers and commissions; My cloudy duke! we understand each other— 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 [9], whom no one knows—No! no! 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.
SERVANT (enters). The commanders! [Exit.
TERZKY (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.
COUNTESS. Take care of your guests! Go, send him hither.
TERZKY. All rests upon his undersigning.
COUNTESS (interrupting him). Go to your guests! Go——
ILLO (comes back). Where art staying, Terzky? The house is full, and all expecting you.
TERZKY. 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 TERZKY and ILLO.
SCENE III.
COUNTESS, MAX. PICCOLOMINI.
MAX. (peeping in on the stage slyly). Aunt Terzky! 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 Concealed behind that screen.
MAX. There lie her gloves!
[Snatches at them, but the COUNTESS takes them herself.
You unkind lady! You refuse me this, 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. 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 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; 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, 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! How stale! No life, no bloom, no flavor 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! I must entreat it of your condescension, You would be pleased to sink your eye, and favor 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, 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, No raillery. The turmoil of the camp, The spring-tide of acquaintance rolling in, The pointless jest, the empty conversation, Oppressed and stifled me. I gasped for air— I could not breathe—I was constrained to fly, 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," [10] Thither I went, there found myself alone. 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 splendor, 'mid ecstatic worshippers; 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. Only be manageable when that friendship Points you the road to full accomplishment.
MAX. But where abides she then? Oh, golden time Of travel, when each morning sun united And but the coming night divided us; Then ran no sand, then struck no hour for us, And time, in our excess of happiness, Seemed on its course eternal to stand still. Oh, he hath fallen from out his heaven of bliss Who can descend to count the changing hours, No clock strikes ever for the happy!
COUNTESS. How long is it since you declared your passion?
MAX. This morning did I hazard the first word.
COUNTESS. This morning the first time in twenty days?
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 Before us the dragoons were riding onward, The safeguard which the duke had sent us—heavy; The inquietude of parting lay upon me, And trembling ventured at length these words: This all reminds me, noble maiden, that 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 Terzky!" 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 I caught her in my arms, my lips touched hers; There was a rustling in the room close by; It parted us—'Twas you. What since has happened You know.
COUNTESS (after a pause, with a stolen glance at THEKLA). And is it your excess of modesty Or are you so incurious, that you do not 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 Taken with surprise——
THEKLA (to the COUNTESS). Spare yourself the trouble: That hears he better from myself.
MAX. (stepping backward). My princess! What have you let her hear me say, Aunt Terzky?
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, 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 played round you 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, 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, They scared me too! O wherefore, wherefore should be 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 The mournful burden of his station? Fitly May love dare woo for love; but such a splendor Might none but monarchs venture to approach.
THEKLA. Hush! not a word more of this mummery; You see how soon the burden is thrown off. [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, And never otherwise!
MAX. You find yourself In your great father's arms, beloved lady! All in a new world, which does homage to you, And which, were't only by its novelty, Delights your eye.
THEKLA. Yes; I confess to you 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 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 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 unalienable treasure. 'Tis a game, Which, having once reviewed, I turn more joyous Back to my deeper and appropriate bliss. [Breaking off, and in a sportive tone. 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 wond Which this mysterious castle guards.
COUNTESS (recollecting). And what Can this be then? Methought I was acquainted With all the dusky corners of this house.
THEKLA (smiling). 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 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 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 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? My highest privilege has been to snatch A side-glance, and away!
THEKLA. 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 daylight, that ran after 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 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 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 armed man for the battle, that is Mars; 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, Oh, that was Venus, the bright star of joy. And the left hand, lo! Mercury, with wings 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. Oh, never rudely will I blame his faith 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, 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 among fays and talismans, 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, That had her haunts in dale, or piny mountain, Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, Or chasms, and watery depths, all these have vanished. They live no longer in the faith of reason! But still the heart doth need a language, still 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 [11], and to the lover Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky Shoot influence down: and even at this day 'This Jupiter who brings whate'er is great, And Venus who brings everything that's fair!
THEKLA. And if this be the science of the stars, I, too, with glad and zealous industry, 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 And 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 this gloomy empire reach its close. 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 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 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. 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.
MAX. Oh, that the sword could win her!
COUNTESS. What was that? Did you hear nothing? Seemed as if I heard Tumult and larum in the banquet-room.
[Exit COUNTESS.
SCENE V.
THEKLA and MAX. PICCOLOMINI.
THEKLA (as soon as 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 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 Terzkys— Why use we them at all? Why not your mother? Excellent creature! She deserves from us 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 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 fortune! He is true, He wears no mask—he hates all crooked ways— He is so good, so noble!
THEKLA. (falls on his neck). That are you!
MAX. You knew him only from this morn! But I Have lived ten years already in his presence; And who knows whether in this very moment He is not merely waiting for us both 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— 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 Terzkys—we will still be grateful to them For every kindness, but not trust them further 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! I ought to be less open—ought to hide My heart more from thee—so decorum dictates: But where in this place couldst thou seek for truth, If in my mouth thou didst not find it? We now have met, then let us hold each other Clasped in a lasting and a firm embrace. Believe me this was more than their intent. Then be our loves like some blest relic kept Within the deep recesses of the heart. From heaven alone the love has been bestowed, To heaven alone our gratitude is due; It can work wonders for us still.
SCENE VI.
To them enters the COUNTESS TERZKY.
COUNTESS (in a pressing manner). Come, come! My husband sends me for you. It is now The latest moment. [They not appearing to attend to what she says, she steps between them. Part you!
THEKLA. Oh, not yet! It has been scarce a moment.
COUNTESS. Ay! Then time Flies swiftly with your highness, princess niece!
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? '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 (with energy). Yes! You have hit it aunt! That is my meaning, 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. Fairwell, dear lady! [THEKLA turns away from him with a quick motion. What say you then, dear lady?
THEKLA (without looking at him). Nothing. Go!
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 awhile an irregular and melancholy symphony, she falls gradually into the music and sings.
SCENE VII.
THEKLA (plays and sings).
The cloud doth gather, the greenwood roar, The damsel paces along the shore; The billows, they tumble with might, with might; And she flings out her voice to the darksome night; Her bosom is swelling with sorrow; The world it is empty, the heart will die, There's nothing to wish for beneath the sky Thou Holy One, call thy child away! I've lived and loved, and that was to-day; Make ready my grave-clothes to-morrow. [12]
SCENE VIII.
COUNTESS (returns), THEKLA.
COUNTESS. Fie, lady niece! to throw yourself upon him Like a poor gift to one who cares not for it, And so must be flung after him! For you, Duke Friedland's only child, I should have thought It had been more beseeming to have shown yourself More chary of your person.
THEKLA (rising). And what mean you?
DUCHESS. I mean, niece, that you should not have forgotten Who you are, and who he is. But perchance That never once occurred to you.
THEKLA. What then?
COUNTESS. That you're the daughter of the Prince Duke Friedland.
THEKLA. Well, and what farther?
DUCHESS. What? A pretty question!
THEKLA. He was born that which we have but become. He's of an ancient Lombard family, Son of a reigning princess.
COUNTESS. Are you dreaming? Talking in sleep? An excellent jest, forsooth! We shall no doubt right courteously entreat him To honor with his hand the richest heiress In Europe.
THEKLA. That will not be necessary.
COUNTESS. Methinks 'twere well, though, not to run the hazard.
THEHLA. His father loves him; Count Octavio Will interpose no difficulty——
COUNTESS. His! His father! His! But yours, niece, what of yours?
THERLA. Why, I begin to think you fear his father, So anxiously you hide it from the man! His father, his, I mean.
COUNTESS (looks at her as scrutinizing). Niece, you are false.
THEBLA. Are you then wounded? O, be friends with me!
COUNTESS. You hold your game for won already. Do not Triumph too soon!
THEKLA (interrupting her, and attempting to soothe her). Nay now, be friends with me.
COUNTESS. It is not yet so far gone.
THEKLA. I believe you.
COUNTESS. Did you suppose your father had laid out His most important life in toils of war, Denied himself each quiet earthly bliss, Had banished slumbers from his tent, devoted His noble head to care, and for this only, To make a happier pair of you? At length To draw you from your convent, and conduct In easy triumph to your arms the man That chanced to please your eyes! All this, methinks, He might have purchased at a cheaper rate.
THEKLA. That which he did not plant for me might yet Bear me fair fruitage of its own accord. And if my friendly and affectionate fate, Out of his fearful and enormous being, Will but prepare the joys of life for me——
COUNTESS. Thou seest it with a lovelorn maiden's eyes, Cast thine eye round, bethink thee who thou art;— Into no house of joyance hast thou stepped, For no espousals dost thou find the walls Decked out, no guests the nuptial garland wearing; Here is no splendor but of arms. Or thinkest thou That all these thousands are here congregated To lead up the long dances at thy wedding! Thou see'st thy father's forehead full of thought, Thy mother's eye in tears: upon the balance Lies the great destiny of all our house. Leave now the puny wish, the girlish feeling; Oh, thrust it far behind thee! Give thou proof Thou'rt the daughter of the mighty—his Who where he moves creates the wonderful. Not to herself the woman must belong, Annexed and bound to alien destinies. But she performs the best part, she the wisest, Who can transmute the alien into self, Meet and disarm necessity by choice; And what must be, take freely to her heart, And bear and foster it with mother's love.
THEKLA. Such ever was my lesson in the convent. I had no loves, no wishes, knew myself Only as his—his daughter—his, the mighty! His fame, the echo of whose blast drove to me From the far distance, weakened in my soul No other thought than this—I am appointed To offer myself up in passiveness to him.
COUNTESS. That is thy fate. Mould thou thy wishes to it— I and thy mother gave thee the example.
THEKLA. My fate hath shown me him, to whom behoves it That I should offer up myself. In gladness Him will I follow.
COUNTESS. Not thy fate hath shown him! Thy heart, say rather—'twas thy heart, my child!
THEKLA. Faith hath no voice but the heart's impulses. I am all his! His present—his alone. Is this new life, which lives in me? He hath A right to his own creature. What was I Ere his fair love infused a soul into me?
COUNTESS. Thou wouldst oppose thy father, then, should he Have otherwise determined with thy person? [THEKLA remains silent. The COUNTESS continues. Thou meanest to force him to thy liking? Child, His name is Friedland.
THEKLA. My name too is Friedland. He shall have found a genuine daughter in me.
COUNTESS. What! he has vanquished all impediment, And in the wilful mood of his own daughter Shall a new struggle rise for him? Child! child! As yet thou hast seen thy father's smiles alone; The eye of his rage thou hast not seen. Dear child, I will not frighten thee. To that extreme, I trust it ne'er shall come. His will is yet Unknown to me; 'tis possible his aims May have the same direction as thy wish. But this can never, never be his will, That thou, the daughter of his haughty fortunes, Shouldest e'er demean thee as a lovesick maiden And like some poor cost-nothing, fling thyself Toward the man, who, if that high prize ever Be destined to await him, yet with sacrifices The highest love can bring, must pay for it.
[Exit COUNTESS.
SCENE IX.
THEKLA (who during the last speech had been standing evidently lost in her reflections). I thank thee for the hint. It turns My sad presentiment to certainty. And it is so! Not one friend have we here, Not one true heart! we've nothing but ourselves! Oh, she said rightly—no auspicious signs Beam on this covenant of our affections. This is no theatre where hope abides The dull thick noise of war alone stirs here, And love himself, as he were armed in steel, Steps forth, and girds him for the strife of death. [Music from the banquet-room is heard. There's a dark spirit walking in our house. And swiftly will the destiny close on us. It drove me hither from my calm asylum, It mocks my soul with charming witchery, It lures me forward in a seraph's shape, I see it near, I see it nearer floating, It draws, it pulls me with a godlike power— And lo! the abyss—and thither am I moving— I have no power within me not to move! [The music from the banquet-room becomes louder. Oh, when a house is, doomed in fire to perish, Many and dark Heaven drives his clouds together, Yea, shoots his lightnings down from sunny heights, Flames burst from out the subterraneous chasms, And fiends and angels, mingling in their fury, Sling firebrands at the burning edifice. [13]
