The Death of Wallenstein Part 46

And must he fall by the executioner's hands, Should we deliver him up to the emperor Alive?

BUTLER.

It were his certain destiny.

DEVEREUX.

Well! Well! Come then, Macdonald, he shall not Lie long in pain.

[Exeunt BUTLER through one door, MACDONALD and DEVEREUX through the other.

SCENE III.

A saloon, terminated by a gallery, which extends far into the background.

WALLENSTIN sitting at a table. The SWEDISH CAPTAIN standing before him.

WALLENSTEIN.

Commend me to your lord. I sympathize In his good fortune; and if you have seen me Deficient in the expressions of that joy, Which such a victory might well demand, Attribute it to no lack of good-will, For henceforth are our fortunes one. Farewell, And for your trouble take my thanks. To-morrow The citadel shall be surrendered to you On your arrival.

[The SWEDISH CAPTAIN retires. WALLENSTEIN sits lost in thought, his eyes fixed vacantly, and his head sustained by his hand. The COUNTESS TERZKY enters, stands before him for awhile, un.o.bserved by him; at length he starts, sees her and recollects himself.

WALLENSTEIN.

Comest thou from her? Is she restored? How is she?

COUNTESS.

My sister tells me she was more collected After her conversation with the Swede.

She has now retired to rest.

WALLENSTEIN.

The pang will soften She will shed tears.

COUNTESS.

I find thee altered, too, My brother! After such a victory I had expected to have found in thee A cheerful spirit. Oh, remain thou firm!

Sustain, uphold us! For our light thou art, Our sun.

WALLENSTEIN.

Be quiet. I ail nothing. Where's Thy husband?

COUNTESS.

At a banquet--he and Illo.

WALLENSTEIN (rises and strides across the saloon).

The night's far spent. Betake thee to thy chamber.

COUNTESS.

Bid me not go, oh, let me stay with thee!

WALLENSTEIN (moves to the window).

There is a busy motion in the heaven, The wind doth chase the flag upon the tower, Fast sweep the clouds, the sickle [11] of the moon, Struggling, darts s.n.a.t.c.hes of uncertain light.

No form of star is visible! That one White stain of light, that single glimmering yonder, Is from Ca.s.siopeia, and therein Is Jupiter. (A pause.) But now The blackness of the troubled element hides him!

[He sinks into profound melancholy, and looks vacantly into the distance.

COUNTESS (looks on him mournfully, then grasps his hand).

What art thou brooding on?

WALLENSTEIN.

Methinks If I but saw him, 'twould be well with me.

He is the star of my nativity, And often marvellously hath his aspect Shot strength into my heart.

COUNTESS.

Thou'lt see him again.

WALLENSTEIN (remains for awhile with absent mind, then a.s.sumes a livelier manner, and turning suddenly to the COUNTESS).

See him again? Oh, never, never again!

COUNTESS.

How?

WALLENSTEIN.

He is gone--is dust.

COUNTESS.

Whom meanest thou, then?

WALLENSTEIN.

He, the more fortunate! yea, he hath finished!

For him there is no longer any future, His life is bright--bright without spot it was, And cannot cease to be. No ominous hour Knocks at his door with tidings of mishap, Far off is he, above desire and fear; No more submitted to the change and chance Of the unsteady planets. Oh, 'tis well With him! but who knows what the coming hour Veiled in thick darkness brings us?

COUNTESS.

Thou speakest of Piccolomini. What was his death?

The courier had just left thee as I came.

[WALLENSTEIN by a motion of his hand makes signs to her to be silent.

Turn not thine eyes upon the backward view, Let us look forward into sunny days, Welcome with joyous heart the victory, Forget what it has cost thee. Not to-day, For the first time, thy friend was to thee dead; To thee he died when first he parted from thee.

WALLENSTEIN.

This anguish will be wearied down [12], I know; What pang is permanent with man? From the highest, As from the vilest thing of every day, He learns to wean himself: for the strong hours Conquer him. Yet I feel what I have lost In him. The bloom is vanished from my life, For oh, he stood beside me, like my youth, Transformed for me the real to a dream, Clothing the palpable and the familiar With golden exhalations of the dawn, Whatever fortunes wait my future toils, The beautiful is vanished--and returns not.

COUNTESS.

Oh, be not treacherous to thy own power.

Thy heart is rich enough to vivify Itself. Thou lovest and prizest virtues in him, The which thyself didst plant, thyself unfold.

WALLENSTEIN (stepping to the door).

Who interrupts us now at this late hour?

It is the governor. He brings the keys Of the citadel. 'Tis midnight. Leave me, sister!