Chapter II: Act I

_The coast of Samland. The background slopes upward at right and left to wooded hills. Between them is a gorge, behind which the sea glitters. In the right foreground are graves with wooden head-boards and crosses, overgrown with shrubbery. At the left is a stout watch-tower with a door in it. Common household furniture stands about the threshold._

Scene I.

Hans Lorbass _seated on a grave with spade and shovel, a freshly dug mound behind him._

_Hans Lorbass_ [_sings_].

Behind a juniper bush,
On a night in July warm and red,
Was my poor mother of me brought to bed
[_Speaking_]. And knew not how.

Behind a juniper bush,
Between cock's crow and morning red,
I struck in drink my father dead,
[_Speaking_]. And knew not who.

Behind a juniper bush,
When all the vermin have had their bite,
I'll stretch myself out and give up the fight
[_Speaking_]. Still I know not when.

Yet one thing I know: anywhere hereabouts, a mile-stone or a cross-roads will do very well some day; I do not need a juniper bush. Let us say a garden hedge, that is a pleasant spot. If some day it should come into my head to lie down beneath one, in the tall grass, nearby a grave, and quietly turn my back on this dry, burnt-out old world, who--a plague upon him--would have aught to say against it? Here I sit and munch my crusts, and hold carouse--on water; [_getting up_] here I stand and dig graves, a free-will servant to weakness. I dig the graves of the unnamed, unknown, when icy waves toss them rotting on the shore, tangled in slimy sea-weed. Once all my thoughts were wont to follow on the foeman's path, to cleave him through with my blithely swinging sword, to carve my path straight through the solid rock; yet now I stand here and smile submission at a woman. But I bide my time until my master comes again knocking to set me free from my graveyard prison and breathe new life into my frame. Him at whose side I once stood guardian-like with fiercest zeal, him will I serve again with all my love and life, and follow like a dog.... Like a dog, yes, but like a master, too. For it is strength alone that wins the day at last, in all the brave deeds done upon this earth. And only he who laughs can win. The victory is never to the weakling whiner, nor to the man whose rage can master him; as little does it crown the man whose mind is woman-ruled; but less than these and least of all will it bless him who dreams away his life. For that I stole and sweated to secure,--his future good,--for that I sit now fixed firm within his soul,--I his servant and avenger! Here comes the old one. Never yet have I owned myself conquered by any soul on earth.... And yet--when she comes peering into my affairs, I feel as though I might become--I don't know what! I begin to know what strength is in sweet words; I feel a readiness for any sort of bout; my spirits swell to bursting roisteringness,--and yet I have not the shadow of a cause for any such ideas.

_Burial-wife_ [_entering_]. Tell me, my little Hans, hast been industrious? Hast made a fine soft bed?

_Hans_. I am no Hans of thine. My name is Hans Lorbass. A knave who stalks stiff-necked and solemn up and down the world does not much relish being treated like a child.

_Burial-wife_. Thou art my dear child none the less. Only grow old and gray; and then shall thy body bear its scars and thy soul its sins back to the old wife.

_Hans_. Not yet.

_Burial-wife_. Thou hast dug many a deep still grave for me; many a wanderer will come and find rest, therein. Over the gray path of the boundless sea will each one come bringing his life's sorrow to lay it here upon my bosom. I open wide my arms to them as my father bade me, and blessing them I thus absolve myself from suffering and penance. Beneath my breath sin and crime straightway disappear;--and smilingly I bear all my dear children to their rest.

_Hans_. Not me. What concern hast thou with me? It is true thou holdest me here within thy grave-yard prison and compellest me to play the grave-digger with blows and taunts; but let my prince once come this way again, and not another hour of service shalt thou have.... My prince, my gold-prince! My sweet lad! How I could burst with a single leap straight to thy side through all the world, and with my too-long-idle sword hurl down to hell the coward pack that presses round thee!... And thou art all to blame,--yes, all. He had already quite enough agonizing longings, unfulfilled desires; but thou must needs fan the warmly glowing flames to a devouring blaze. It was thou that lured him into that adventure, that willed his braving danger singlehanded; and if he cracks the accursed nut, if I see the foam curl again about his prow,--even if I clasp him to me and feel him safe indeed,--who shall tell me that after all his prize is worth his pains? Where is that woman thou hast showed to him, that pattern of beauty and purity, that paragon of softness and strength, she who was born to steal away his other longings,--where is she?--show her to me!

_Burial-wife_. My little Hans, my son, why stormest thou so?

_Hans_. Let me curse.

_Burial-wife_. Hush thee, and lie down here beside me on the straw, and listen what I tell thee.

_Hans_. On the grave-straw? [_Lies down with a grimace._]

_Burial-wife_. There landed two men yonder on a golden spring day, and wandered lost like wild things through the thicket. Who were they?

_Hans_. I and my master were the two. The villainy of his step-brother had rent from him his throne and kingdom. He was too young, he was too weak,--there lay the blame.

_Burial-wife_. Yet he was blustering and drew his sword and demanded with storm and threat that I should grant a wish for him. Still thou knowest him, my dear son?

_Hans_. Do I know him!

_Burial-wife_. "Thou desirest the fairest of women for thy bride?" I said. "She is not here; but if thou dost not shrink before the danger, I can show thee the way, my son."

_Hans_. The way to death!

_Burial-wife_. "There lies an isle in the northern seas, where day and night are merged in dawn; never more shall he rejoice at sight of home who loses his path there in a storm. There lies thy path. And there, where the holy word is never taught, within a crystal house there lives a wild heron, worshiped as a god. From that heron thou must pluck three feathers out and bring them hither."

_Hans_. And if he brings them?

_Burial-wife_. Then I will make him conscious of miraculous power, through which he shall find and bind her to himself who awaits him in night and need; for by this deed he grows a man, and worth the prize.

_Hans_. And then? When he has got her, and sighs and coos and lies in her bosom half a hundred years, when he turns himself a very woman, I shall be the last to wonder at it. Look! [_he picks up a piece of amber_] I shovelled this shining glittering bauble out of the dune-sand. I have heaped up whole bushels of it in my greedy zeal. Now, as I toss from me this sticky mass of resin, that borrows the name and place of a stone, so with the act I hurl away in mocking laughter these many-colored lies of womankind. [_He tosses the lump to the ground._] Now go and brew my evening draught. I will to the sea to seek my master. [_He goes out to the right. The_ Burial-wife _looks after him grinning and goes into the tower._]

_Ottar_ [_sticking his head through the bushes_]. Holloa, Gylf!

_Gylf_ [_coming out_]. What is it? [_The others also appear._]

_Ottar_. Here is the tower, here lie the graves in a sandy spot; run below to the Duke and tell him; not a man to be seen, not even a worm, naught but a burying-ground, rooted up and worried as though we had been haunting it ourselves. [Gylf _goes out._]

_Skoell_. Nay, for we would have saved some of our loved dead for the raven, we would not have been so stingy as to bury them straightway. [_They all laugh._]

_The First_ [_pointing out to sea_].--Ho--there!

_Ottar_. What's the matter?

_The First_. Does not the boat pass there that yesterday crossed our path on the high seas, whose steersman threatened fight with our dragon? How comes the bold rascal here?

_The Second_ [_who has raised up the lump of amber_]. I tell you, comrades, let the fellow go, and look what I have found.

_Ottar_. Death and the devil! Then we are in Amberland.

_The Third_ [_staring_]. That is amber?

_Ottar_. Give it to me!

_The Second_. I found it--it is mine!

_Ottar_. Thou gorging maw!

_The Second_. Thieves! Flayers!

_Ottar_. Dog! I'll strike thee dead!

_Skoell_. Be quiet, fools, there is plenty more! Go look in the tower, and you may curse me for a knave if you find the mouse-hole empty.

_The First_. Come.

_The Two Others_. Yes, come! [_The three go into the tower._]

_Skoell_. Thou dost not go along?

_Ottar_. Thou hadst gladly got us out of the way to dig all by thyself? O, we all know thee, thou filthy fool!

_Skoell_ [_slapping him on the back_]. More pretty words, my friend? Go on! When we are our own men on shore again, I will see what I can do;--but till that time I spare my skin.

[_The three come reeling backwards out of the tower, followed by the_ Burial-wife _with raised fist._]

_Skoell_. What is this?

_Ottar_. What do you call this? Seize her!

_The First_. Seize her! Easy to say! Dost thou court the palsy?

_The Second_. Or fits, at least!

_Ottar_. Cowards! [_He advances upon her. The others, except_ Skoell, _follow him yelling._]

_Hans_ [_snatches his sword, that hangs on a tree, and throws the assailants into confusion with a blow or two_]. Ho, there! Let her alone, or--

_Skoell_. Look! Hans Lorbass!

_The Others_. Who? Our Hans?

_Ottar_ [_rubbing his shoulder_]. How comest thou here? Thou still hast thy old strength, I find!

_Skoell_. Tell us, old Hans, what brings thee here? Is she thy latest love?

_All_ [_burst out laughing_]. Hans, Hans! Poor old Hans!

_Hans_. Bandits! Just come on once! [_To the_ Burial-wife.] How is it? I hope they have not hurt thee.

_Burial-wife_. None can harm me, none molest me, who has not first wronged himself and all his hopes.

_Ottar_ [_sings_]. Ho, Hans is playing with his love!

_Hans_. Have a care!

[_The_ Burial-wife _goes slowly into the tower._]

_Hans_. It is now scarce three years since we bore within the hall our master in his ash-hewn coffin. He raised his hand already cold, and pointed with his pallid, bony finger--not toward the bastard Danish conqueror, but towards his own true son, Prince Witte; and him he left his country's lord. The land was poor, the people rude, yet it had preserved its pride and loyalty un stained through a thousand murderous brawls. Three years ago as everybody knows, you would have murdered our young lord at summons of the Bastard and his fair promises; and now--what are you? Thieves, sand-fleas, loafers, riff-raff, haunting the moors and hiding in the thickets. Stop! I will build a gallows for you presently; my brave sword is too good for you. [_He throws down his sword. They laugh._]

_Skoell_. Hanschen, has thou clean forgot who was the fiercest bloodhound of us all? Who was it always shouted "I will do it, I!" till everyone spread sail before him and left him to his work? Then wouldest thou come, wiping thy bloody hand, and laugh, and say: "My work is done!" And then one saw no more of thee. Now when we find thee and rejoice at sight of thee, thou scornest us like a pack of thieves or birds of such a feather, and playest the judge sitting above us;--fie, Hanschen, 'tis not kind of thee.

_Hans_. Quite right! Give us thy fist!... No use to wrangle! [_Offers his hand to one after the other. Looking at one suspiciously._] Thou hast need of a little scouring first, I think. Children, what fine fellows you would be, if only you were not such frightful rogues. [_They laugh._] Tell me now, what have you been at so long?

_Ottar_ [_awkwardly_]. Who? We?

_Hans_. Yes, you!

_Ottar_. Thou wouldst draw us out then?

_Hans_. No need. I know that trade a thousand miles away. You are wreckers!

_All_ [_laughing_]. Of course.

_Hans_ [_half to himself_]. See, see!

_Skoell_. Only the name is not quite right. We are wreckers hereabouts; but we chiefly rob upon the high seas.

_Hans_. And your Duke?

_Ottar_. There's a man! He stands foremost in the attack. When the grappling-irons lay hold, when the javelin whistles in the air, when down upon the rashly canted dragon crashes the boarding-plank, when above they wait like calves for the slaughter, then rings his murder-cry: Ho huzzah!

_All_. Ho huzzah!

_Hans_ [_half to himself_]. It must be fine. [_Aloud._] Then in the battle--how shows he there?

_Ottar_. In what battle? We have no more battles.

_Hans_. So, so! I just bethought myself. One question more: How come you here?

_Skoell_. Hast thou not taken our measure, then? Take notice of my sparkling glance--its tender fire: observe his air, like to a love-sick cock's: Do we not smell of myrrh and balm! In short, we go to gaze upon the bride.

_Hans_. Who, then?

_Ottar_. Who? Dost thou mock at us? Thou livest here and yet thou hast not heard of the Amberqueen, the marvel of beauty who has sworn to yield herself and her throne to the man that is victorious in a tournament for life and death, and bears all her other suitors to the earth? The fair one is a widow, the heir an orphan; so it is meat and drink to him who throws the others by the heels.

_Hans_. Are you so sure of it?

_Ottar_. Well, where is the man who cares to try conclusions with our Duke?

_Hans_ [_to himself_], I reared one who will strike him down some day.

[_Enter_ Duke Widwolf _and more of his men._]

_Duke_. Why stand you there? Did I send you ahead to chatter? On with you! What stops your mouths? Clear the way! And if I find you sluggish I will call out my cat-o'-nine-tails for you.

_Hans_ [_aside to the first man, who stands near him_]. He drubs you then?

_The First_. Past bearing.

_Duke_. Who is that man that speaks with you? Why have you not already struck him down?

_Skoell_. He is so droll, master, he would not let himself be killed.

_Duke_. Meseems ... Hans Lorbass--do I see aright? What--what?... Thou knowest I am in thy debt for business secretly done. I love not debts between master and man.

_Hans_. No need, my lord, I have my pay.

_Duke_. At first thou seemedst to serve me diligently; yet thou didst slip as suddenly from my throne as though thou hadst an ailing conscience.

_Hans_ [_gazing out to sea._] Perhaps. It may be.

_Duke_. Where hast thou stayed so long?

_Hans_ [_without stirring_]. I am a servant. I have served.

_Duke_. What drivest thou now?

_Hans_. I drive naught, my lord, I am driven.

_Duke_ [_threateningly_]. It pleases thee to jest.

_Hans_. And thee to be galled thereat.

_Duke_. That fellow's corpse was never found! Now clear thyself from the suspicion.

_Hans_. Think what thou wilt. Covered with wounds I sunk it in the ocean's depths.

_Duke_. I trust thee. If thou wilt swear thy truth to me, then come. With me all is feasting and revelry.

_Hans_ [_looking out to sea again_]. Thank thee, my lord. I care not to do murder, and I can play the robber by myself.

_Duke_. Seize him.

_Skoell_ [_beseechingly_]. Master, our dearest companion, who never yet has played us false.

[Duke _draws his sword and makes as if to attack_ Hans.]

_Hans_ [_gripping his sword and flourishing it high in the air._] Thou art the master and wonted to victory; but come too near, and thou hast only been the master!

_Duke_. Well, leave him then upon the path where thou hast found him. I had wellnigh killed instead of paying him.

[_He goes out. The others follow. Some of them shake_ Hans Lorbass _furtively by the hand._]

_Hans_ [_alone_]. Then there is something holds his spirit in bonds; will make his race a race of weaklings, will plunge the land itself in guilt,--and yet they know not their own shame.... Right! Just now I saw something. Did I not behold, not far from land a blood-red sail a-dazzle against the blue night cloud? The keel bore sharply toward the shore--how gladly would I believe the old wife there, when--truly, it frets me so I must--[_He goes to the tower and is about to open the door_. Prince Witte _appears in the background._]

_Hans_ [_casting himself at the_ Prince's _feet with a shout of joy_]. Master!--Thou hast come! Art thou safe? Unharmed? Here is thy nose--both ears--thy arm--and there thy sword! Thy voice alone is lost, it seems.

_Prince_. Let me be silent, friend. The horror I have seen stands black about me and takes the color from my joy.

_Hans_. What is that, now thou art here? [_Stammering._] And even if thy journey were in vain, if thou hast not brought the heron's feathers back with thee, what is--

_Prince_. I brought not the heron's feathers with me? My nightly watches, twilight's scanty rest, the morning's ardent fiery prayers, and more than all, the consecrated labor of the day, wherein what has been obtained from God with tears, must be besieged anew with fierce resolve, and conquered by the teeth-set "I will," won by obstinate unshrinking,--sorrow--doubt--danger--struggle--unsuccess to-day and new onslaught tomorrow--and so on and on--and always forward--have I all this behind me, and yet have I returned without the feathers?

_Hans_. Thou hast the feathers? Are they really heron's feathers, from the very bird?

_Prince_. Set thy fears at rest; the wonder is fulfilled, and all our pains dispersed in thankful prayer.

_Hans_. Forgive me, dear my lord and master, that I forgot a moment the bare fact itself, to thee so all-important. I knew thou wouldst never have returned without them, however my heart thirsted after thee.

_Prince_. Thou wert right. I knew it well.

_Hans_. Where are they, master? Dost thou bear them in thy breast? I feel thou wouldest. Chide me if thou wilt, but show them to me.

_Prince_. Look at my helmet. I understand thy eagerness. No sword can cleave them from me, no rush of wind displace them. They are the standard of my fortunes.

_Hans_. Thy story, master,--come, tell it to me!

_Prince_. Wait, Hans. The hour will come, at drinking-time, while the dull camp-fire flickers to its end, and the fierce thirst of fighting will not let us sleep,--then will I tell the tale and make it glow anew.

_Hans_. Master, how changed thou art. Thy fire seems smothered, and thy passions burn less fiercely, being self-controlled.

_Prince_. Thou art wrong, my friend; in me there dwells no calm. I stir and seethe. Death itself, which I have conquered, reanimates in me. Only henceforth I gain by firmer paths the end which I have chosen. My country that betrayed me, lies small and half-forgotten in the distance. I measure myself against the great henceforth. What are they? Myself shall be the arbiter, and fate shall never again allure me with her cruel "Take what I offer thee" to a starvation feast.

_Hans_. I look at thee in wonderment. I left thee a boy, I find thee a man. And for this, though my sword has itched in my hand to answer to my thoughts, though I have sat for hours on end in gnawing tedium and spat into the sea, for this result I bless the old wife there. Once more I may strike good blows for thee, once more be proud to guard thee as before.

_Prince_ [_giving him his hand_]. It shall be so.... Yes, yes, my lad. Since I have been gone--how long is it?

_Hans_. A good two years, master.

_Prince_. The old wife now, and quickly, that she may open to me all the enchantment lurking in the feathers, to which I trusted and surrendered myself. The time has come for this unmolded life to shape itself after the law of its own desire. Why dost thou hesitate?

_Hans_. I will go.

_Prince_. But yet thou mutterest?

_Hans_. Do not blame me, master; I know of what I speak. First of all, mistrust the old one. I fear her not ... but something horrible and slimy crawled in my throat when I first saw her crouching in a grave, all stiff, her brows drawn and her staring eyes turned inwards lifelessly.... When a storm stood coal-black in the heavens and gave the greedy coffins fresh food--lo, there she stood and bade me dig the graves; and when the wave cast corpses up on the strand, she bore each one up the hill pressed mother-like to her breast, shaken meanwhile with a sly laugh; and thus she laughed until they all lay quietly at rest beneath. Have a care for thyself!

_Prince_. Yet why? Her work is pious and she tends it faithfully.

_Hans_. But if she weaves enchantment, master?

_Prince_. I am the last from whom on that account a threat is fit. It has turned to blessing for me. To him who chooses sacrifice for his fate, there often comes the best of gifts,--to see deep into the unsearchable, and smilingly to build as though within a pleasure-park, upon the very boundary of the ideal. Once more--

_Hans_. And once more I stand broad-legged in thy unhappy path and shout: Do not destroy thyself! Whoever runs after his desire shall perish in the race; it only yields to him who hurls it from him. Thou dost not know as yet the old wife's schemes; thou standest now above enchantment, a young glowing god confiding in the magic of thine own strength. What thou dost know is that thy prize is hidden, and that the broad path of possibilities, on which thou thinkest to glide aloft, may be choked all at once between black walls and leave thee fevered and panting with the chase, with desire and loathing, eagerness and shrinking, to hasten on forever and never gain the end.

_Prince_ [_pointing to his helmet with a smile_]. Look there!

_Hans_. Thou hast done well to bring them; if the fatal seed of death does not draw thee down to eternal failure thou must do well indeed! For now the secret purpose of thy path is about to reveal itself; now thy proud and self-poised soul pants to mount aloft,--and here I stand and counsel thee: Hurl away thy prize!

_Prince_. Thou ravest.

[_The_ Burial-wife _appears in the door of the tower, thrown into lurid prominence by the fire that burns within on the hearth. It grows dark rapidly._]

_Hans_. Too late. It has begun. [_Whispers._] It looks as if the hearth-fire glowed straight through her parchment skin and wrapped her bones in flame.

_Prince_. Burial-wife! Look me in the face!

_Burial-wife_. Thou hast come! Welcome, dear son!

_Prince_. Thy dear son--I am not. Thy creditor I am, and I demand my own.

_Burial-wife_. What dost thou ask?

_Prince_. I forced from thee the words that taught me my way; the deed thou hast demanded is accomplished, and I claim the prize!

_Burial-wife_. What I have promised thee, I will faithfully fulfil, my child. A primal force lies within these white husks. They change their form according to their owner's will. What, then, is thy desire? A woman?

_Prince_. A woman? There are enough of women. More than one has borne me down to earth in the snare of her supple limbs, and hampered my soul's flight. What is a woman? A downfall and a heaviness, a darkness and a theft of alien lights, a sweet allurement in the eternal void, a smile without a thought, a cry for naught.

_Hans_. Bravo! Bravo!

_Prince_. What I demand now is that queen of women, after whom I have thirsted even while drinking, by the side of whom my princely dignity shall appear but as a herald; for whose voice my soul starves though I sit in the wisest councils of the world; in whom I see our torturing human weaknesses healed to a joyous beauty; that woman before whom I, though mad with victory, must bend my proud knee in trembling and affright; whose blushes shall bear witness to me how a longing heart can shield itself in modesty; she who will stand in deepest need and beg with me at the cross-roads; whose love can make death itself pass me by; this woman, this deep peace, this calm still world in which when lost I cannot lose myself, where wrong itself must turn to right,--this woman,--mine--I now demand of thee.

_Burial-wife_. Snatch down the prize from thy helmet: I will announce its promise to thee; unless thou art blind or deaf, thou shalt pierce to the depth of the riddle. The first of the feathers is but a gleam from the lights and shadows that brew about thee. When thou throwest it into the fire, thou shalt behold her image in the twilight. The second of the feathers,--mark it well--shall bring her to thee in love, for when thou burnest it alone in the dying glow, she must wander by night and appear before thee. And until the third has perished in the flame, thy hand stretched forth shall bless her; but the third burning brings her death: and therefore guard it well and think upon the end.

_Prince_. I will. Unwarned, I let them wave aloft in mad presumption; but now I will hide them safe within my gorget. [_To_ Hans.] Why shouldst thou look at me so grimly? I know myself to be quite freed from sorrow; all I lack is a faithful companion on the way.... "When thou throwest the first into the fire thou shalt behold her image in the twilight." [_He pulls out one of the feathers and hastens toward the tower._]

_Hans_ [_boldly opposing him_]. What wilt thou do?

_Prince_. Out of the way? [_He opens the door of the tower._]

_Hans_. Cursed witch, thou hast-- [_A sudden bright blaze within the tower. A flare of yellow light goes up. The Prince comes back._] Art thou singed?

_Prince_ [_looks about wildly_]. I see naught.

[Burial-wife _points silently to the background, where on the horizon above the sea the dark outline of a woman's figure appears and glides slowly from left to right._]

_Prince_. I see in the heavens a shadowy form, rosy with flame, pierced through with light. If it be thou on whom my longing hangs, I pray thee turn thy face and lighten me! Lift the veil from thine eyes! Remain, ah, vanish not behind the stars,--step down that I may learn to love thee!... She does not hear. When we part, say how I may know thee again!... How shall I--? Her figure sways, it fades with the clouds-- was that the sign?

_Hans_. Thou hast bewitched him finely.

_Prince_. Still she is mine, as I know who I am! And should she never long to come to me, yet my soul's longings shall be stronger than she herself. Hans Lorbass, my brave fellow-soldier, take thy sword and arm thyself straightway.

_Hans_. I am armed. [_To the_ Burial-wife.] The hangman--

_Prince_. Spare thy curses. She serves my happiness as best she can. Farewell! We will seek the world over, and when the first promise is fulfilled--Farewell!

_Hans_ [_grimly_]. Farewell!

[_They go out to the left._]

_The Burial-wife_ [_alone_]. Go, my children, face the combat, fight boldly, wield the feathers unrestrained; when you weary, bring me back your outworn bodies, cast them here upon my shore. But till the time shall come when I will plant them like twigs in my garden, go and fight and love and dance ... for I can wait.... I can wait!

ACT. II.

_Arcade on the first story of a Romanesque palace, separated in the background by a row of columns from the court below, to which steps lead down from the middle to right and left. On the platform between them, facing the court, is a throne-chair, which later is covered with a curtain. Walks lead right and left rectangularly toward the background. On the right are several steps to the back, the principal path to the castle chapel. On the left side-wall in front is a door with a stone bench near it, and to the left of that another door. On the right in front is an iron-bound outside door. Stone benches stand between the columns. The back of the buildings surrounding the court form the background of the scene. Early morning._

Scene I.

Skoell _with his spear between his knees, asleep on a bench_. Coelestin _with a page holding a torch._

_Coelestin_. Put the link out, my son. It hangs on thy tired arm too heavily.... Yes, yes, this morning many a one thinks of his bed.... What, an alarm so early? Man and steed armed?

_Skoell_ [_in his sleep_]. Brother--thy health!

_Page_. Look! The fellow is still drunk.

_Coelestin_. How else? Would, though, the filthy wretch and his Duke too with his dissolute bravery, were smoked out of the country!... Still, I am not anxious. The Pommeranian prince--there is a man of glorious renown!--may win.

_Page_. I fear, my lord, thou art wrong. The horses of the Pommeranian snort below. They look as though they were about to start.

_Coelestin_. Hast thou seen aright? The Pommeranian?

_Page_. Yes.

_Coelestin_. I feel as though the earth itself did sway, as though my poor old head would burst in pieces. Now falls the Fatherland, which, kingless, thought it might escape from rapine; yet all the while in its own breast there stood the powerfullest of robbers. Here where a continual harvest of peace once smiled, where inborn modesty of soul once paired joyously with ingrown habit and youth grew guiltless to maturity, the ruthless hand of tyranny will henceforth rest choking on our necks, and-- [_Blows sound on the door to the right._] Who blusters at the door? Go look.

_Page_ [_looking through the peep-hole_]. I see a spear-shaft glitter. [_Calling._] What wilt thou without there?

_Hans Lorbass's Voice_. Open the door!

_Page_ [_calling_]. Why didst thou come up the steps? The entrance is there below.

_Hans Lorbass's Voice_. I know that already. I did not care to sweat there in the crowd. Open the door.

_Page_. What shall I do?

_Coelestin_. I am as wrung as though the fate of the whole country hung on the iron strength of the lock.... Give him his way.

[_The_ Page _opens the door_, Hans Lorbass _enters._]

_Coelestin_. Who art thou, and what wouldst thou here? Speak!

_Hans_. My master, a brave knight and skilled in arms, born far in the north, where he was betrayed in feud with his stepbrother, to atone has undertaken a journey to the Holy Sepulchre. We have but just now entered your kingdom, and crave for God's love, if not a refuge, at least a resting place.

_Coelestin_. Thou hast done well, my friend. Every wanderer is a welcome guest in this castle, for our Queen is one from whose soul there flow deeds of boundless kindness to all the world. From to-day, alas!... nay, call thy knight, and if he stands on two such good legs as his servant, I warrant he has shivered many a spear.

_Hans_. And I warrant, my lord, that thou hast warranted rightly. [_He goes to the door and motions below_. Coelestin _and the_ Page _look out from behind him._]

_Skoell_ [_dreaming_]. Hans Lorbass--seize him!

[Prince Witte _enters._]

_Coelestin_. Here is my hand, my guest. And though thou comest here in an unhappy hour, I look within thine eye, I gaze upon thy sword, and feel as though thou hadst lifted a cruel burden from my oppressed soul.

_Prince_. I thank thee that thou holdest me worthy thy confidence. Yet I fear that thou art misled; it was no fate drew us together, but only chance. Thinkest thou that because I took this path I was sent to thee?

_Coelestin_. No, no! God forbid!--Well, unarm, my friend, ... so, so.

_Hans_. Whither then?

_Coelestin_. We have for our guests--they will show it to thee.

_Prince_. They crowd in early at your doors,--have I come to a festival?

_Coelestin_. To a ...? Stranger, there burns in me a fever of speech ... they chide the doting chatter of old men, and yet--

_Prince_. Thou hast chosen me for thy confidant ... I listen gladly.

_Coelestin_. Well then: our King, stricken with years, died and left us unprotected and afraid, for we had no guide nor saviour. The Queen, herself a child, carried trembling at her breast the babe she had borne him.... It is six years ago, and all this time have birds of prey scented the rich morsel from afar and come swooping down upon this fair land, where unmeasured riches lie. The danger grows--the people clamor for a master. And so our Queen, who had sat long sunk in modest grief, now divined in anguish her soul's call, the echo of the kingly duty, and guessed the sacrifice her land demanded. She tore in twain her widow's garlands, and made a vow that he who could bear all other suitors to her feet in battle, should be her lord and her country's king. The day has come. The lists are hung, the people crowd into the tournament. Woe to them! Their tears are doomed to fall, for all the princes who came hither have fled faint-heartedly before a single one, a man of terror, who is thus victorious without a struggle.

_Prince_. And this one--who is he?

[_A clamor in the court below. A_ Noble _enters._]

_Noble_. Sir Major-domo, I beg thee, hasten. The guard is in confusion. The people are already mounting the newly built lists in a countless throng.

_Coelestin_ [_pointing below_]. Look, there is the flock; but where is the shepherd? Wait here, while I press into the thickest of the crowd and give the people a taste of my severity ... though I doubt much if it will aught avail. [_He hastens down by the middle way with the_ Noble _and the_ Page.]

_Prince Witte_. That which I long for lies not here. My sober judgment whispers warningly within my breast of delay and thoughtless dalliance. [_He seats himself on a bench to the right of the stage and looks up at the sky._]

_Skoell_ [_in his sleep_]. Quite right.

_Hans_. What's that? Eh, there, sleepy-head, wake up!

_Skoell_. Leave me alone! When I sleep I am happy.

_Hans_ [_startled_]. What--Skoell?

_Skoell_. Hans Lor--

_Hans_. Hsh--sh!

_Skoell_. Well, old fellow, what wilt thou in this berth?

_Hans_. Thy master is here?

_Skoell_. Well, yes!

_Hans_. The devil take him! [_Looking round at the_ Prince.] What now?

_Skoell_. What now? Why now, we will have a drink.

_Hans_. What draws you here!

_Skoell_. Thou knowest, thou rogue! We are the jolliest of jolly good fellows ever found at a wedding.

_Hans_ [_to himself_]. Has he the strength for this redeeming act, and would it break the bonds of the madness that holds him?

[_Enter a_ Herald _from the left, behind. Then the_ Queen, _holding the young_ Prince _by the hand, and followed by her women. After them_, Anna Goldhair.]

_Herald_. Way there, the Queen approaches!

_Skoell_ [_standing attention_]. We cannot speak when the Queen comes by.

_Hans_ [_looking towards_ Prince Witte]. His soul dreams. The distance holds him spellbound.

[_The_ Queen _and her attendants approach. She stops near_ Prince Witte, _who is not conscious of her presence, and gazes at him long._]

_The Young Prince_ [_bustling up to him_]. Here, thou strange man, dost thou not know the Queen? It is the rule that when she comes we all should rise. I am the Prince, and yet I must do it too.

_Prince Witte_ [_rising and bowing_]. Then beg, friend, that the Queen grant me her forgiveness.

_The Young Prince_. That I will gladly. [_He runs back to the_ Queen.]

[_The_ Queen _passes on and turns again at the corner to look at_ Prince Witte, _who has already turned his back. Then she disappears with her women into the cathedral, from which the gleam of lights and the roll of the organ come forth. The door is closed._]

_Hans_. Well, did she please thee? Hast thou found her worthy to awake thy idle sword to deeds of battle?

_Prince_. It would be no less than idleness for me to unsheathe my sword in her behalf; for my field of battle lies not here.

_Hans_. Then come. Thy path is hot. Thy path is broad!--Then hasten! Already far too long hast thou delayed before this tottering throne, from which an eye in speechless pleading calls for help.

_Prince_. At first, when my desires pointed from hence, didst thou not beg me to delay?--and now!--

_Skoell_ [_aside to_ Hans]. Heaven save us! Brother, who is this? I would know him a thousand miles away!

_Hans_ [_with a gesture towards_ Skoell, _to leave him alone_]. Perhaps I wished to test thee, or perhaps--

_Skoell_. All good spirits praise--

_Prince_. Whatever it was, I will go gladly.

_Skoell_ [_crossing himself_]. All good spirits praise the Lord! [_Bursts out through the door to the left._]

_Prince_. Why, who was that, that went out in such a hurry?

_Hans_. Who would it have been? Some body-servant about the castle, perhaps, some--

_Prince_. Where are my--?

_Hans_. Here is thy shield. Quick, take it.

_Prince_. Where is that ape that just now--

_Hans_. Let the filthy rascal go, whoever he is, and come!

[_Enter_ Duke Widwolf. Skoell, _behind him, pointing to the_ Prince.]

_Duke_. Hans Lorbass, thou shalt pay for this!

_Hans_. For what, my lord? Here are the very bones whereon thine eyes desired to feast themselves. It is true they are covered with flesh for the present, but they are there inside, I swear to thee.

_Prince_. Silence, Hans! This man stands above thy mockery; for though he stole my inheritance in despicable treachery, yet he wears the crown of my fathers, and I bow before it. And until heaven's cherubim call on me loudly to avenge the wrong, in practice for a better thing I bend before him, and grind my teeth.

[Duke _bursts into a loud laugh._]

_Prince_. I see destruction naming in thine eyes,--thou laughest in scorn.... Laugh on. For I shall not avenge myself, nor count it my duty to shatter the fearful edifice of thy throne. So long as it will uphold thee and thy blood-blinded sword, so long be thou and thy people worthy of one another. Enough! Hans, set forth!

[Coelestin _and the other nobles come up the steps._]

_Duke_. Behold, ye noble gentlemen! Blood of the cross, what a hero we have here! He halts here: makes a mighty clamor: naught has or ever can delay his march of triumph:--and then on a sudden he makes a short turn, breathes a deep sigh, and like the other poltroons, leaves the field to me.

_Hans_ [_aside_]. Control thyself, master, all this can be borne.

_Coelestin_. What, stranger, art thou also of princely blood?

_Prince_. Whether princely or not, my blood is mine, and I myself must be the judge of what suits it. My host, I thank thee.... I would right gladly have rested here, gladly have sat down at thy hearth as a humble guest--

_Coelestin_. Thou earnest on the day of the tournament; and therefore thou hast come to free the Queen.

_Prince_. Thou callest me stranger, and will pardon me that I had heard naught of thy Queen.

_Coelestin_. Still thou sawest her when she and her women--

_Prince_. I saw her, yes.

_Coelestin_. And yet thou thinkest of departure? Art thou made of stone that thou hast not felt a thrust of pity like a knife, at the mere sight of that pious grace, that spring-like mildness?

_Duke_. Who speaks of pity, when I myself protect her with my shield? Pity?--how--wherefore? Have a care!

_Coelestin_. Thy threat hath no meaning today. Yet all the same I know that wert thou king, thou wouldst lay my gray head at thy feet.

_Duke_. Perhaps. And again perhaps, if this braggart who was sent hither and now crawls away again, did not quite take off that weak old head of thine, he would just have thee hanged, out of pure pity.

_Coelestin_. Thou listenest in silence to this unmeasured raving? I ask not now upon what throne thy father sat, I only ask the weakling: Art thou a man? Is this body that glows in prideful youth, only a hardly fed up paunch? Is the angry red painted upon thy brow, and yet canst thou endure and not wipe out the insult thou hast received?

_Hans_ [_aside_]. Master, be stronger now than I have strength myself. I have naught to say, not I. Only say to me: "Hans, we will go"--and I will gulp down my rage; and never to the last day of my life shall a look, a word, a motion of an eye-lash, remind thee of what befell today.

_Prince_. Your eyes all hang in hopeful question on my broad-edged sword; and yet I may not tell you why I wear it, but must endure what ever you think. Still, know one thing; all the shame which he has heaped today upon my dulled heart I will add to the need by which he shattered my young days. I will reckon with him for those thirsting nights wherein I drank the poison of renunciation,--when my trust in mankind sank to ruin with my blood-defiled rights,--when in despair I reckoned my coming manhood by my growing beard,--when my fate became a lot of powerless shame,--and I will grope along the path where my desires once ranged themselves when the rousing voice of hope rang out of abyssmal blankness.... And thus the scorn I have received to-day glides past my closed ears like unwelcome flattery; and silently I go from hence.

[_The_ Queen _with the young_ Prince. Anna Goldhair _and her other women come from the cathedral during the last words._]

_Queen_. O go not, stranger!

_A Noble_. Listen, the Queen!

_Another_. She who was never used to address a stranger.

_Queen_. A most unhappy woman stands before thee, and with streaming eyes casts away all the shame that modesty and rank combine to weigh her with, and prays thee: O go not! For behold! As I came to-day to God's dwelling-house full of tormenting thoughts--I saw thee on the way, thou scarce didst notice me--while I stood there before thy face longing within me that a sign might be given me, it seemed as though there flowed a something like light, like a murmuring through the spacious place, as on a festal day the sacred miracle of His presence. And a voice spoke in my heart: have faith, O woman, he came and he is thine; to thy people whose courage failed them, he shall be a hero, to thy child a father.... Then I fell thankfully upon my face. And now I beg thee: O go not!

_Duke_. And I tell thee, my lady Queen, he goes! I answer for it with my sword. If there is a prayer within the hero-soul of him, it runs thus: dear God, graciously be pleased to spare my reputation only as far as yonder door.

_Prince_. Thou liest.

_Hans_ [_whispers_]. Now defend thyself. Treason to thy being's sanctuary is a half-voluntary deed.

_Prince_. Forgive me, Lady, if but hesitatingly I have sworn myself into thy service. Behold, I tread a half-obscured path, and the dim traces lead me into the far gray distance ... lead me--and I know not whither. I know not whether that great night which descends upon the crudest sorrow of our common day, bringing sleep to the wearied soul, will wrap me also in its folds, or whether as reward for that unquenched spirit in me that still must trust, endure, and spread its wings, the sunshine of the heights at last will smile upon me. I am Desire's unwearied son; I bear her token hidden in my breast, and till that token fades or disappears, well canst thou say: "Come die for me," but never canst thou say: "Remain."

_Queen_. Then never shalt thou hear that bitter word, that word so full of weakness, come from my trembling lips. The blessing of this hour that passes now shall never rise to distract thee on thy path in the gray distance. Yet there shall be a charm, rising unspoken in the soul itself, which when thou pausest wearied on thy journey, shall whisper to thee where a home still blooms for thee.... Where a balsam is prepared to heal thy wounded feet, bleeding from the sharpness of thy path ... where a thousand arms reach out to greet their loved one ... whence those voices rise that call to thee out of the darkness ... and where there waits a smile, smothered with joy, to say to thee: "I charmed thee not."--I will be silent, lest thou shouldst be weary of my speech; since all my words speak only this desire: it rings within thine ears,--longing must find a resting-place.

_Prince_. O, that mine lay not so far from here! There, where the clouds disperse in light, and the eternal sun kisses my brow, there ... Enough. Since thou hast asked no more than chance has in a measure forced me to, whether for good or evil I know not, I must needs grant thy wish. Hans, arm me.

_Duke_ [_whispers_], Skoell, do not forget ... where are the others?

_Skoell_. Who knows?

_Duke_. But was there not a great feast to-night?

_Skoell_. Yes. But they flung us out just now.

_Duke_. Listen! And heed me well. As soon as that rascal has had enough and grovels in the dust, shout out with all thy might "Hail to King Widwolf!" Dost thou understand?

_Skoell_. Eh? Yes, indeed.

_Anna Goldhair_. Oh! dearest Lady, if I might speak I would beg thee to go. The sight of all the horrors that gather round us will shake thee sorely.

_Queen_. Who stays for me if I will not for him? And is it not fitting for an unhappy mother to protect the head of her child even with her own shattered arm? [_To the young_ Prince.] Listen, my darling. Thou must go. [_To_ Anna Goldhair.] Take him to my waiting-women. Without this sight his heart will all too soon burn with a thirst for blood.

_The Young Prince_. Ah, mother!

_Queen_. Nay, thou must. But nestle once again upon my breast, my dear one, so!

_The Young Prince_ [_running up to_ Prince Witte]. Please, thou strange man, be so good as to conquer for us!

_Prince_ [_smiling_]. If thou art good, my Prince!... How clear their glances sparkle! From those eyes a world of sunshine bursts; alas, I am not worthy of it! [_The young_ Prince _and_ Anna Goldhair _go out._]

[_The_ Chancellor _and a train of nobles come up the steps. After them guards and two trumpeters. The_ Chancellor _makes obeisance and asks the_ Queen _a question. The_ Queen _assents silently and mounts, holding by the balustrade, to the platform on which the throne stands, pushed to one side. The_ Chancellor _makes a sign to the trumpeters, and they blow a signal, which echoes below, then he raises the sword, which a page brings upon a cushion._]

_Chancellor_. Illustrious Lady, honored Queen, as chancellor of thy appointed realm, I offer thee this sword whereon to take the oath: that in thy hand, so strong because so weak, what first prevailed as thy country's law, what now prevails, and what shall prevail again when violence and lust cease to clutch after our soul's sanctuaries,--that law on which we have relied, so mild it was, because created by a free and happy fatherland--will be forever new and vigorous.

_Queen_. I swear it on the iron sword of my kingdom, and on the runes carved thereupon; though nature has denied it to a woman to avenge a violated oath with her own hand, yet I will never rest in my grave unless all is fulfilled that I have spoken. I swore it solemnly, and on this sword I will announce and reavow to you, that whosoever conquers in this fight may claim me for his wife when he desires.... Speak now, ye who cursed my mourning and my sorrow's backward glance: do I fulfill your will with shuddering? Do I not give ye the King ye seek?

[_The nobles strike their shields with their swords in token of approval._]

_Chancellor_. Now to you who stand prepared to ring the throne and kingdom with the sharpness of your swords; before the land submits itself to the victor, give answer who you are!

_Duke_. Thou knowest me well.

_Chancellor_. Who knows thee not? Flames spread before thee hither like a banner, the vulture knows thee that shrieks after carrion, the auk knows thee on the blood-furrowed sea; yet custom demands, the which thou knowest not, that thou shalt name thyself at this hour.

_Duke_. I am the Duke of Gotland!

_Hans Lorbass_ [_highly excited, pointing to_ Prince Witte]. He is the Duke of Gotland! [_Great disturbance and amazement._]

_Coelestin_. We are groping here in a black riddle.

_Chancellor_ [_to_ Prince Witte]. Witness thyself.

_Prince Witte_. If there is a man here in whom dwells a spirit of sacrifice, a worship of the right, and not of power and bloody gain, to him I speak, as to a stem of that ancient race which still springs from Gotland's gods; I boldly say: "I am." But to that vicious misbegotten wight who cringes in the dust and worships tyranny if it but prosper him, to him I say: "No, I am not."

_Chancellor_. A lofty mind, bred in the bitterness which deep sorrow brings, speaks in thy words and gives them weight. But yet--we know not who stands before us as the Duke of Gotland.

_Duke_. It seems to me, my lords, that the sword will show.

_Chancellor_. True enough. If the Queen will.

[_The_ Queen _bows her head in assent. The_ Chancellor _gives a sign to the trumpeters and they blow a signal which is answered below in the court. The nobles make their obeisances to the_ Queen _and go down the steps to the right and left._]

_Hans Lorbass_ [_meanwhile_]. Remember that thrust I showed thee once: at the arm-joint where the leather is easily cut, thou canst--

_Prince Witte_ [_alarmed_]. Where are the feathers?

_Hans_. How--what--? That witch-work to distract thee now? Here is thy sword, and there the foe! Play with him, tickle him, stroke his beard, till he weeps blood out of his mouth, till--

_Prince_. They are quite safe.

_Hans_. Master!

[Prince Witte _goes last behind_ Duke Widwolf, _with a bow to the_ Queen _in passing. She watches him in agitation and follows him with her eyes._]

_Queen_. How is the Prince?

_Anna Goldhair_. As children always are. At first he wept and tried to slip away. Then he lay still and had his playthings brought. Now he lies sprawling under a table, playing at dice, though he understands them not.

_Queen_. While we go to throw upon his life.

[_The_ Queen, Coelestin, _the_ Chancellor, Anna Goldhair, _and the other women go out. The guards draw the curtains behind the throne. The applause of the people greeting the_ Queen _rises from the court. Then silence._]

_Skoell_. Well, my heart's brother, so we are alone again.

[Hans Lorbass _without noticing_ Skoell, _tries to pass the_ First Guard _after_ Prince Witte.]

_First Guard_. Back!

[Hans _tries on the other side of the curtain._]

_Second Guard_. Back! The passage is forbidden.

_Hans_. I am the Prince's servant!

_Second Guard_. That may all be; but hast thou not seen--

_Hans_. I counsel thee, take off thy hands!

_Skoell_ [_takes hold of his arm soothingly_]. Come, brother of my heart, be sensible, stay in thy seat; down below there is just a mob of women, and thou wouldst be no use at all.

_Hans_. True enough. [_The drums sound._] The third call! Now is the time!

_Skoell_. Now I can put my hands in my pockets and let them break each other's necks; if I only had something to drink, then--[_as_ Hans _clutches him by the arm in excitement at the first clash of swords sounding from below_] Ouch! Whew! The devil, what a grip thou hast!

_Hans_ [_accompanying the movements below with dumb-show, which is accentuated by the noise of the crashing weapons_]. There! That was a blow! Take that! [_Alarmed._] Guard thyself! Ah, that was good! Now after him and strike!... He missed! [_To_ Skoell, _threateningly._] I thought thou didst laugh!

_Skoell_. What should I do?

_Hans_. I tell thee, thou brute beast, thou calf, thou knave, thou thief, as truly as I love thee as my brother, I will kill thee!

_Skoell_. Not so fierce!

_Hans_. There, which one of them drives the other in the corner, now? Eh?

_Skoell_. What?... I will stand above both sides and wait to see which one comes out ahead.

_Hans_. Ho, ho! How the rascal puffs! Yes, thou wilt learn to run, my fine fellow! Another blow! He struck him not! Now for thy life!--What is he thinking of? [_Shrieks out._] My master bleeds!

_Skoell_. Ei, ei!

_Hans_. Wipe it off! Whisk it away! That little blood-letting but sharpens the anger, pricks the hate and--

_Skoell_. Look!

_Hans_. Now gather all thy powers together, master! And all my love for thee turn into fire and flame, that--

[_Pause. Then a woman's shriek is heard, and the ringing fall of a man's body. A dull murmur of many voices follows._]

_Skoell_. That was a blow! [_Shouting down._] Hail to King Wid--

_Hans_ [_seizes him like lightning and hurls him to the ground, then springs on the bench, waving his sword above his head and shouting._] Back from his body! You men below there, is there one that wears a sword and armor?

_Voices_. I!--I!--I!

_Hans Lorbass_. He will break through the lists with me and drive away this robber of Samland!

[_Cries of rage, together with the crashing of the lists_. Hans Lorbass _storms upon the guards, who retreat to one side, and dashes below. The_ Queen _comes upon the scene half unconscious, supported by_ Anna Goldhair _and her other women. The_ Chancellor _and other nobles_. Skoell _has squeezed himself behind the corner pillar on the right._]

_Coelestin_ [_turning from the_ Queen _to a group of men who stand gazing down on the tumult below_]. How goes it now?

_Chancellor_. That man whose summons hurled the brand of mutiny among us, look how great and small, man and woman crowd around him shouting and hustle the Duke to the door! There, he is gone!--the other left! Who was the devil?

[_The uproar grows fainter and seems to lose itself in the distance._]

_Coelestin_. I know not whether he was a devil or an angel; for without his shriek of hate we should still be lying beneath the foot of tyranny, bleeding and weaponless as he who lies below.

[Chancellor _motions to him, pointing towards the_ Queen, _who has revived and is looking about her wildly._]

_Queen_. Where is the stranger? Why are you silent? I saw him fall ... did he not conquer?

_A Messenger_ [_comes hurrying up the steps_]. Hail to our Queen! I bring glad tidings: the accursed Duke has fled upon a stolen horse. The people vent their long-stored spleen upon his rascally followers.

_Skoell_. Woe is me! Alas! [_He slips behind the church door and disappears._]

_Queen_. And that youth who smiling received the sacrificial blow for you--think you his life so valueless that no one even remembers him as a poor reward? Why are you silent? Will no one speak?

_Chancellor_. We know not whether he is dead, or lives, though sorely wounded. In every thrust he far over-reckoned the reach of his sword. A more grievous trouble than this, my Lady Queen, avails to banish our rejoicing; a broken oath is here, an unatoned-for--

_Coelestin_. Look! What a sight!

[Hans Lorbass _supports the sorely wounded_ Prince Witte _up the steps, lets him sink upon the bench to the left, and stands before him with drawn sword, like a guard._]

_Hans_. Away from here! Whoever loves his life, whether man or woman, comes not too near!

_Queen_ [_approaching him_]. Not even I, my friend?

_Hans_ [_embarrassed, yielding_]. Thou, Lady,--yes.

_Queen_ [_takes off her veil, and wipes the blood from the face of the_ Prince]. Send for physicians that he may be saved.

_Hans_. He is saved! If he were not, I'd spring in the very face of death for him,--I would spring down death's very throat; death and I, we know each other well.

_Chancellor_. Thou who breathest out spume and fire as carelessly as though hell itself had brought thee forth, I ask thee who thou art, thou unclean spirit, who hast dared to raise this pious people to revolt by thy furious onslaught, and taught them to poison for themselves and the ensuing race the holy fount of justice?

_Hans_. And I will answer thee: I myself am that justice. I bear it on my sword's point, I carry it here beneath my cap, I pour it forth in my master's name, who gave it for his glory and his happiness. [_Signs of anger._] If ye believe it not, then listen trembling to the thousand toned joy that peals from far away like spring thunder quivering in the air, and sweeps throughout the land the joyous message of deliverance: we are free!

_Chancellor_. Speak, O Queen! Thy soldiers wait below. Methinks this servant of the defeated one has too much confidence,--he speaks as though he were instead our lord and victor.

_Queen_. Let him speak! He has the right! And even were he a thousand times defeated, this man who lies before us bleeding, if he recover and seek it from me, shall be our lord and conqueror. [_Great confusion and excitement._]

_Prince Witte_ [_rousing from his unconsciousness and looking about him painfully_]. There lies the heron! I have wrung his neck, I snatch my prize, my salvation ... [_feeling on his head and in his breast with anxious dismay_] where are the feathers?

_Queen_. What seekest thou, dear one?

_Hans_. Thou seest, O Queen, he speaks in fever. Do not listen, do not heed his words.

_Prince_. Hans, Hans!

_Hans_ [_close by him_]. Take care what thou sayest.

_Prince_ [_whispers earnestly_]. I will away from here ... [_with a glance at the_ Queen _half complainingly_] I must away!

_Hans_. When thou canst.