Выбрать главу

To these enter the DUCHESS, who rushes into the chamber;

THEKLA and the COUNTESS follow her.

DUCHESS.

O Albrecht!

What hast thou done?

WALLENSTEIN.

And now comes this beside.

COUNTESS.

Forgive me, brother! It was not in my power-

They know all.

DUCHESS.

What hast thou done?

COUNTESS (to TERZKY).

Is there no hope? Is all lost utterly?

TERZKY.

All lost. No hope. Prague in the emperor's hands,

The soldiery have taken their oaths anew.

COUNTESS.

That lurking hypocrite, Octavio!

Count Max. is off too.

TERZKY.

Where can he be? He's

Gone over to the emperor with his father.

[THEKLA rushes out into the arms of her mother, hiding her face

in her bosom.

DUCHESS (enfolding her in her arms).

Unhappy child! and more unhappy mother!

WALLENSTEIN (aside to TERZKY).

Quick! Let a carriage stand in readiness

In the court behind the palace. Scherfenberg,

Be their attendant; he is faithful to us.

To Egra he'll conduct them, and we follow.

[To ILLO, who returns.

Thou hast not brought them back?

ILLO.

Hear'st thou the uproar?

The whole corps of the Pappenheimers is

Drawn out: the younger Piccolomini,

Their colonel, they require: for they affirm,

That he is in the palace here, a prisoner;

And if thou dost not instantly deliver him,

They will find means to free him with the sword.

[All stand amazed.

TERZKY.

What shall we make of this?

WALLENSTEIN.

Said I not so?

O my prophetic heart! he is still here.

He has not betrayed me-he could not betray me.

I never doubted of it.

COUNTESS.

If he be

Still here, then all goes well; for I know what

[Embracing THEKLA.

Will keep him here forever.

TERZKY.

It can't be.

His father has betrayed us, is gone over

To the emperor-the son could not have ventured

To stay behind.

THEKLA (her eye fixed on the door).

There he is!

SCENE XVIII.

To these enter MAX. PICCOLOMINI.

MAX.

Yes, here he is! I can endure no longer

To creep on tiptoe round this house, and lurk

In ambush for a favorable moment:

This loitering, this suspense exceeds my powers.

[Advancing to THEKLA, who has thrown herself into her mother's arms.

Turn not thine eyes away. O look upon me!

Confess it freely before all. Fear no one.

Let who will hear that we both love each other.

Wherefore continue to conceal it? Secrecy

Is for the happy-misery, hopeless misery,

Needeth no veil! Beneath a thousand suns

It dares act openly.

[He observes the COUNTESS looking on THEKLA with expressions

of triumph.

No, lady! No!

Expect not, hope it not. I am not come

To stay: to bid farewell, farewell forever.

For this I come! 'Tis over! I must leave thee!

Thekla, I must-must leave thee! Yet thy hatred

Let me not take with me. I pray thee, grant me

One look of sympathy, only one look.

Say that thou dost not hate me. Say it to me, Thekla!

[Grasps her hand.

O God! I cannot leave this spot-I cannot!

Cannot let go this hand. O tell me, Thekla!

That thou dost suffer with me, art convinced

That I cannot act otherwise.

[THEKLA, avoiding his look, points with her hand to her father.

MAX. turns round to the DUKE, whom he had not till then perceived.

Thou here? It was not thou whom here I sought.

I trusted never more to have beheld thee,

My business is with her alone. Here will I

Receive a full acquittal from this heart;

For any other I am no more concerned.

WALLENSTEIN.

Think'st thou that, fool-like, I shall let thee go,

And act the mock-magnanimous with thee?

Thy father is become a villain to me;

I hold thee for his son, and nothing more

Nor to no purpose shalt thou have been given

Into my power. Think not, that I will honor

That ancient love, which so remorselessly

He mangled. They are now passed by, those hours

Of friendship and forgiveness. Hate and vengeance

Succeed-'tis now their turn-I too can throw

All feelings of the man aside-can prove

Myself as much a monster as thy father!

MAX (calmly).

Thou wilt proceed with me as thou hast power.

Thou knowest I neither brave nor fear thy rage.

What has detained me here, that too thou knowest.

[Taking THEKLA by the hand.

See, duke! All-all would I have owed to thee,

Would have received from thy paternal hand

The lot of blessed spirits. That hast thou

Laid waste forever-that concerns not thee.

Indifferent thou tramplest in the dust

Their happiness who most are thine. The god

Whom thou dost serve is no benignant deity,

Like as the blind, irreconcilable,

Fierce element, incapable of compact.

Thy heart's wild impulse only dost thou follow. [5]

WALLENSTEIN.

Thou art describing thy own father's heart.

The adder! Oh, the charms of hell o'erpowered me

He dwelt within me, to my inmost soul

Still to and fro he passed, suspected never.

On the wide ocean, in the starry heaven

Did mine eyes seek the enemy, whom I

In my heart's heart had folded! Had I been

To Ferdinand what Octavio was to me,

War had I ne'er denounced against him.

No, I never could have done it. The emperor was

My austere master only, not my friend.

There was already war 'twixt him and me

When he delivered the commander's staff

Into my hands; for there's a natural

Unceasing war twixt cunning and suspicion;

Peace exists only betwixt confidence

And faith. Who poisons confidence, he murders

The future generations.

MAX.

I will not

Defend my father. Woe is me, I cannot!

Hard deeds and luckless have taken place; one crime

Drags after it the other in close link.

But we are innocent: how have we fallen

Into this circle of mishap and guilt?

To whom have we been faithless? Wherefore must

The evil deeds and guilt reciprocal

Of our two fathers twine like serpents round us?

Why must our fathers'

Unconquerable hate rend us asunder,

Who love each other?

WALLENSTEIN.

Max., remain with me.

Go you not from me, Max.! Hark! I will tell thee--

How when at Prague, our winter quarters, thou

Wert brought into my tent a tender boy,

Not yet accustomed to the German winters;

Thy hand was frozen to the heavy colors;

Thou wouldst not let them go.

At that time did I take thee in my arms,

And with my mantle did I cover thee;

I was thy nurse, no woman could have been

A kinder to thee; I was not ashamed

To do for thee all little offices,