The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Iii Part 28

Your insolent scoff shall not go by unpunish'd.

Draw!

OCTAVIO.

Nay! your sword to 'ts sheath! and tell me calmly, How all that happen'd. I will not refuse you Your satisfaction afterward. Calmly, Butler!

BUTLER.

Be the whole world acquainted with the weakness For which I never can forgive myself.

Lieutenant-General! Yes; I have ambition.

Ne'er was I able to endure contempt.

It stung me to the quick, that birth and t.i.tle Should have more weight than merit has in the army.

I would fain not be meaner than my equal, So in an evil hour I let myself Be tempted to that measure. It was folly!

But yet so hard a penance it deserved not.

It might have been refused; but wherefore barb And venom the refusal with contempt?

Why dash to earth and crush with heaviest scorn The gray-hair'd man, the faithful veteran?

Why to the baseness of his parentage Refer him with such cruel roughness, only Because he had a weak hour and forgot himself?

But nature gives a sting e'en to the worm Which wanton Power treads on in sport and insult.

OCTAVIO.

You must have been calumniated. Guess you The enemy who did you this ill service?

BUTLER.

Be't who it will--a most low-hearted scoundrel!

Some vile court-minion must it be, some Spaniard, Some young squire of some ancient family, In whose light I may stand; some envious knave, Stung to his soul by my fair self-earn'd honors!

OCTAVIO.

But tell me, did the Duke approve that measure?

BUTLER.

Himself impell'd me to it, used his interest In my behalf with all the warmth of friendship.

OCTAVIO.

Ay? are you sure of that?

BUTLER.

I read the letter.

OCTAVIO.

And so did I--but the contents were different.

[BUTLER _is suddenly struck_.]

By chance I'm in possession of that letter-- Can leave it to your own eyes to convince you.

[_He gives him the letter_.]

BUTLER.

Ha! what is this?

OCTAVIO.

I fear me, Colonel Butler, An infamous game have they been playing with you.

The Duke, you say, impell'd you to this measure?

Now, in this letter, talks he in contempt Concerning you; counsels the minister To give sound chastis.e.m.e.nt to your conceit, For so he calls it.

[BUTLER _reads through the letter; his knees tremble, he seizes a chair, and sinks down in it_.]

You have no enemy, no persecutor; There's no one wishes ill to you. Ascribe The insult you received to the Duke only.

His aim is clear and palpable. He wish'd To tear you from your Emperor: he hoped To gain from your revenge what he well knew (What your long-tried fidelity convinced him) He ne'er could dare expect from your calm reason.

A blind tool would he make you, in contempt Use you, as means of most abandoned ends.

He has gained his point. Too well has he succeeded In luring you away from that good path On which you had been journeying forty years!

BUTLER _(his voice trembling)_.

Can e'er the Emperor's Majesty forgive me?

OCTAVIO.

More than forgive you. He would fain compensate For that affront, and most unmerited grievance Sustain'd by a deserving gallant veteran.

From his free impulse he confirms the present, Which the Duke made you for a wicked purpose.

The regiment, which you now command, is yours.

[BUTLER attempts to rise, sinks down again. He labors inwardly with violent emotions; tries to speak, and cannot.

At length he takes his sword from the belt, and offers it to PICCOLOMINI.]

OCTAVIO.

What wish you? Recollect yourself, friend.

BUTLER.

Take it.

OCTAVIO.

But to what purpose? Calm yourself.

BUTLER.

O take it!

I am no longer worthy of this sword.