His quiet mind forsook him, and no longer
Did he yield up himself in joy and faith
To his old luck and individual power;
But thenceforth turned his heart and best affections
All to those cloudy sciences which never
Have yet made happy him who followed them.
COUNTESS.
You see it, sister! as your eyes permit you,
But surely this is not the conversation
To pass the time in which we are waiting for him.
You know he will be soon here. Would you have him
Find her in this condition?
DUCHESS.
Come, my child!
Come, wipe away thy tears, and show thy father
A cheerful countenance. See, the tie-knot here
Is off; this hair must not hang so dishevelled.
Come, dearest! dry thy tears up. They deform
Thy gentle eye. Well, now-what was I saying?
Yes, in good truth, this Piccolomini
Is a most noble and deserving gentleman.
COUNTESS.
That is he, sister!
THEKLA (to the COUNTESS, with narks of great oppression of spirits).
Aunt, you will excuse me?
(Is going).
COUNTESS.
But, whither? See, your father comes!
THEKLA.
I cannot see him now.
COUNTESS.
Nay, but bethink you.
THEKLA.
Believe me, I cannot sustain his presence.
COUNTESS.
But he will miss you, will ask after you.
DUCHESS.
What, now? Why is she going?
COUNTESS.
She's not well.
DUCHESS (anxiously).
What ails, then, my beloved child?
[Both follow the PRINCESS, and endeavor to detain her. During
this WALLENSTEIN appears, engaged in conversation with ILLO.
SCENE IV.
WALLENSTEIN, ILLO, COUNTESS, DUCHESS, THEKLA.
WALLENSTEIN.
All quiet in the camp?
ILLO.
It is all quiet.
WALLENSTEIN.
In a few hours may couriers come from Prague
With tidings that this capital is ours.
Then we may drop the mask, and to the troops
Assembled in this town make known the measure
And its result together. In such cases
Example does the whole. Whoever is foremost
Still leads the herd. An imitative creature
Is man. The troops at Prague conceive no other,
Than that the Pilsen army has gone through
The forms of homage to us; and in Pilsen
They shall swear fealty to us, because
The example has been given them by Prague.
Butler, you tell me, has declared himself?
ILLO.
At his own bidding, unsolicited,
He came to offer you himself and regiment.
WALLENSTEIN,
I find we must not give implicit credence
To every warning voice that makes itself
Be listened to in the heart. To hold us back,
Oft does the lying spirit counterfeit
The voice of truth and inward revelation,
Scattering false oracles. And thus have I
To entreat forgiveness for that secretly.
I've wronged this honorable gallant man,
This Butler: for a feeling of the which
I am not master (fear I would not call it),
Creeps o'er me instantly, with sense of shuddering,
At his approach, and stops love's joyous motion.
And this same man, against whom I am warned,
This honest man is he who reaches to me
The first pledge of my fortune.
ILLO.
And doubt not
That his example will win over to you
The best men in the army.
WALLENSTEIN.
Go and send
Isolani hither. Send him immediately.
He is under recent obligations to me:
With him will I commence the trial. Go.
[Exit ILLO.
WALLENSTEIN (turns himself round to the females).
Lo, there's the mother with the darling daughter.
For once we'll have an interval of rest-
Come! my heart yearns to live a cloudless hour
In the beloved circle of my family.
COUNTESS.
'Tis long since we've been thus together, brother.
WALLENSTEIN (to the COUNTESS, aside).
Can she sustain the news? Is she prepared?
COUNTESS.
Not yet.
WALLENSTEIN.
Come here, my sweet girl! Seat thee by me,
For there is a good spirit on thy lips.
Thy mother praised to me thy ready skill;
She says a voice of melody dwells in thee,
Which doth enchant the soul. Now such a voice
Will drive away from me the evil demon
That beats his black wings close above my head.
DUCHESS.
Where is thy lute, my daughter? Let thy father
Hear some small trial of thy skill.
THEKLA.
My mother
I--
DUCHESS.
Trembling? Come, collect thyself. Go, cheer
Thy father.
THEKLA.
O my mother! I-I cannot.
COUNTESS.
How, what is that, niece?
THEKLA (to the COUNTESS).
O spare me-sing-now-in this sore anxiety,
Of the overburdened soul-to sing to him
Who is thrusting, even now, my mother headlong
Into her grave.
DUCHESS.
How, Thekla! Humorsome!
What! shall thy father have expressed a wish
In vain?
COUNTESS.
Here is the lute.
THEKLA.
My God! how can I--
[The orchestra plays. During the ritornello THEKLA expresses in her
gestures and countenance the struggle of her feelings; and at the
moment that she should begin to sing, contracts herself together, as
one shuddering, throws the instrument down, and retires abruptly.
DUCHESS.
My child! Oh, she is ill--
WALLENSTEIN.
What ails the maiden?
Say, is she often so?
COUNTESS.
Since then herself
Has now betrayed it, I too must no longer
Conceal it.
WALLENSTEIN.
What?
COUNTESS.
She loves him!
WALLENSTEIN.
Loves him? Whom?
COUNTESS.
Max. does she love! Max. Piccolomini!
Hast thou never noticed it? Nor yet my sister?
DUCHESS.
Was it this that lay so heavy on her heart?
God's blessing on thee,-my sweet child! Thou needest
Never take shame upon thee for thy choice.
COUNTESS.
This journey, if 'twere not thy aim, ascribe it
To thine own self. Thou shouldst have chosen another
To have attended her.
WALLENSTEIN.
And does he know it?
COUNTESS.
Yes, and he hopes to win her.
WALLENSTEIN.
Hopes to win her!