He had not fallen into the snares of villains.
Wherefore so like a thief, and thief's accomplice
Didst creep behind him lurking for thy prey!
Oh, unblest falsehood! Mother of all evil!
Thou misery-making demon, it is thou
That sinkest us in perdition. Simple truth,
Sustainer of the world, had saved us all!
Father, I will not, I cannot excuse thee!
Wallenstein has deceived me-oh, most foully!
But thou has acted not much better.
OCTAVIO.
Son
My son, ah! I forgive thy agony!
MAX. (rises and contemplates his father with looks of suspicion).
Was't possible? hadst thou the heart, my father,
Hadst thou the heart to drive it to such lengths,
With cold premeditated purpose? Thou-
Hadst thou the heart to wish to see him guilty
Rather than saved? Thou risest by his fall.
Octavio, 'twill not please me.
OCTAVIO.
God in heaven!
MAX.
Oh, woe is me! sure I have changed my nature.
How comes suspicion here-in the free soul?
Hope, confidence, belief, are gone; for all
Lied to me, all that I e'er loved or honored.
No, no! not all! She-she yet lives for me,
And she is true, and open as the heavens
Deceit is everywhere, hypocrisy,
Murder, and poisoning, treason, perjury:
The single holy spot is our love,
The only unprofaned in human nature.
OCTAVIO.
Max.!-we will go together. 'Twill be better.
MAX.
What? ere I've taken a last parting leave,
The very last-no, never!
OCTAVIO.
Spare thyself
The pang of necessary separation.
Come with me! Come, my son!
[Attempts to take him with him.
MAX.
No! as sure as God lives, no!
OCTAVIO (more urgently).
Come with me, I command thee! I, thy father.
MAX.
Command me what is human. I stay here.
OCTAVIO.
Max.! in the emperor's name I bid thee come.
MAX.
No emperor has power to prescribe
Laws to the heart; and wouldst thou wish to rob me
Of the sole blessing which my fate has left me,
Her sympathy? Must then a cruel deed
Be done with cruelty? The unalterable
Shall I perform ignobly-steal away,
With stealthy coward flight forsake her? No!
She shall behold my suffering, my sore anguish,
Hear the complaints of the disparted soul,
And weep tears o'er me. Oh! the human race
Have steely souls-but she is as an angel.
From the black deadly madness of despair
Will she redeem my soul, and in soft words
Of comfort, plaining, loose this pang of death!
OCTAVIO.
Thou wilt not tear thyself away; thou canst not.
Oh, come, my son! I bid thee save thy virtue.
MAX.
Squander not thou thy words in vain.
The heart I follow, for I dare trust to it.
OCTAVIO (trembling, and losing all self-command).
Max.! Max.! if that most damned thing could be,
If thou-my son-my own blood-(dare I think it?)
Do sell thyself to him, the infamous,
Do stamp this brand upon our noble house,
Then shall the world behold the horrible deed,
And in unnatural combat shall the steel
Of the son trickle with the father's blood.
MAX.
Oh, hadst thou always better thought of men,
Thou hadst then acted better. Curst suspicion,
Unholy, miserable doubt! To him
Nothing on earth remains unwrenched and firm
Who has no faith.
OCTAVIO.
And if I trust thy heart,
Will it be always in thy power to follow it?
MAX.
The heart's voice thou hast not o'erpowered-as little
Will Wallenstein be able to o'erpower it.
OCTAVIO.
O, Max.! I see thee never more again!
MAX.
Unworthy of thee wilt thou never see me.
OCTAVIO.
I go to Frauenberg-the Pappenheimers
I leave thee here, the Lothrings too; Tsokana
And Tiefenbach remain here to protect thee.
They love thee, and are faithful to their oath,
And will far rather fall in gallant contest
Than leave their rightful leader and their honor.
MAX.
Rely on this, I either leave my life
In the struggle, or conduct them out of Pilsen.
OCTAVIO.
Farewell, my son!
MAX.
Farewell!
OCTAVIO.
How! not one look
Of filial love? No grasp of the hand at parting?
It is a bloody war to which we are going,
And the event uncertain and in darkness.
So used we not to part-it was not so!
Is it then true? I have a son no longer?
[MAX. falls into his arms, they hold each other for a long time
in a speechless embrace, then go away at different sides.
(The curtain drops.)
ACT III.
SCENE I.
A chamber in the house of the Duchess of Friedland.
COUNTESS TERZKY, THEKLA, LADY NEUBRUNN (the two latter sit
at the same table at work).
COUNTESS (watching them from the opposite side).
So you have nothing to ask me-nothing?
I have been waiting for a word from you.
And could you then endure in all this time
Not once to speak his name?
[THEKLA remaining silent, the COUNTESS rises and advances to her.
Why, how comes this?
Perhaps I am already grown superfluous,
And other ways exist, besides through me
Confess it to me, Thekla: have you seen him?
THEKLA.
To-day and yesterday I have not seen him.
COUNTESS.
And not heard from him, either? Come, be open.
THEKLA.
No Syllable.
COUNTESS.
And still you are so calm?
THEKLA.
I am.
COUNTESS.
May it please you, leave us, Lady Neubrunn.
[Exit LADY NEUBRUNN.
SCENE II.
The COUNTESS, THEKLA.
COUNTESS.
It does not please me, princess, that he holds
Himself so still, exactly at this time.
THEKLA.
Exactly at this time?
COUNTESS.
He now knows all
'Twere now the moment to declare himself.
THEKLA.
If I'm to understand you, speak less darkly.
COUNTESS.
'Twas for that purpose that I bade her leave us.
Thekla, you are no more a child. Your heart
Is no more in nonage: for you love,
And boldness dwells with love-that you have proved
Your nature moulds itself upon your father's
More than your mother's spirit. Therefore may you
Hear what were too much for her fortitude.