The Three Heron's Feathers Part 5

_Hans_. Then come. Thy path is hot. Thy path is broad!--Then hasten!

Already far too long hast thou delayed before this tottering throne, from which an eye in speechless pleading calls for help.

_Prince_. At first, when my desires pointed from hence, didst thou not beg me to delay?--and now!--

_Skoll_ [_aside to_ Hans]. Heaven save us! Brother, who is this? I would know him a thousand miles away!

_Hans_ [_with a gesture towards_ Skoll, _to leave him alone_]. Perhaps I wished to test thee, or perhaps--

_Skoll_. All good spirits praise--

_Prince_. Whatever it was, I will go gladly.

_Skoll_ [_crossing himself_]. All good spirits praise the Lord!

[_Bursts out through the door to the left._]

_Prince_. Why, who was that, that went out in such a hurry?

_Hans_. Who would it have been? Some body-servant about the castle, perhaps, some--

_Prince_. Where are my--?

_Hans_. Here is thy shield. Quick, take it.

_Prince_. Where is that ape that just now--

_Hans_. Let the filthy rascal go, whoever he is, and come!

[_Enter_ Duke Widwolf. Skoll, _behind him, pointing to the_ Prince.]

_Duke_. Hans Lorba.s.s, thou shalt pay for this!

_Hans_. For what, my lord? Here are the very bones whereon thine eyes desired to feast themselves. It is true they are covered with flesh for the present, but they are there inside, I swear to thee.

_Prince_. Silence, Hans! This man stands above thy mockery; for though he stole my inheritance in despicable treachery, yet he wears the crown of my fathers, and I bow before it. And until heaven's cherubim call on me loudly to avenge the wrong, in practice for a better thing I bend before him, and grind my teeth.

[Duke _bursts into a loud laugh._]

_Prince_. I see destruction naming in thine eyes,--thou laughest in scorn.... Laugh on. For I shall not avenge myself, nor count it my duty to shatter the fearful edifice of thy throne. So long as it will uphold thee and thy blood-blinded sword, so long be thou and thy people worthy of one another. Enough! Hans, set forth!

[Colestin _and the other n.o.bles come up the steps._]

_Duke_. Behold, ye n.o.ble gentlemen! Blood of the cross, what a hero we have here! He halts here: makes a mighty clamor: naught has or ever can delay his march of triumph:--and then on a sudden he makes a short turn, breathes a deep sigh, and like the other poltroons, leaves the field to me.

_Hans_ [_aside_]. Control thyself, master, all this can be borne.

_Colestin_. What, stranger, art thou also of princely blood?

_Prince_. Whether princely or not, my blood is mine, and I myself must be the judge of what suits it. My host, I thank thee.... I would right gladly have rested here, gladly have sat down at thy hearth as a humble guest--

_Colestin_. Thou earnest on the day of the tournament; and therefore thou hast come to free the Queen.

_Prince_. Thou callest me stranger, and will pardon me that I had heard naught of thy Queen.

_Colestin_. Still thou sawest her when she and her women--

_Prince_. I saw her, yes.

_Colestin_. And yet thou thinkest of departure? Art thou made of stone that thou hast not felt a thrust of pity like a knife, at the mere sight of that pious grace, that spring-like mildness?

_Duke_. Who speaks of pity, when I myself protect her with my shield?

Pity?--how--wherefore? Have a care!

_Colestin_. Thy threat hath no meaning today. Yet all the same I know that wert thou king, thou wouldst lay my gray head at thy feet.

_Duke_. Perhaps. And again perhaps, if this braggart who was sent hither and now crawls away again, did not quite take off that weak old head of thine, he would just have thee hanged, out of pure pity.

_Colestin_. Thou listenest in silence to this unmeasured raving? I ask not now upon what throne thy father sat, I only ask the weakling: Art thou a man? Is this body that glows in prideful youth, only a hardly fed up paunch? Is the angry red painted upon thy brow, and yet canst thou endure and not wipe out the insult thou hast received?

_Hans_ [_aside_]. Master, be stronger now than I have strength myself.

I have naught to say, not I. Only say to me: "Hans, we will go"--and I will gulp down my rage; and never to the last day of my life shall a look, a word, a motion of an eye-lash, remind thee of what befell today.

_Prince_. Your eyes all hang in hopeful question on my broad-edged sword; and yet I may not tell you why I wear it, but must endure what ever you think. Still, know one thing; all the shame which he has heaped today upon my dulled heart I will add to the need by which he shattered my young days. I will reckon with him for those thirsting nights wherein I drank the poison of renunciation,--when my trust in mankind sank to ruin with my blood-defiled rights,--when in despair I reckoned my coming manhood by my growing beard,--when my fate became a lot of powerless shame,--and I will grope along the path where my desires once ranged themselves when the rousing voice of hope rang out of abyssmal blankness.... And thus the scorn I have received to-day glides past my closed ears like unwelcome flattery; and silently I go from hence.

[_The_ Queen _with the young_ Prince. Anna Goldhair _and her other women come from the cathedral during the last words._]

_Queen_. O go not, stranger!

_A n.o.ble_. Listen, the Queen!

_Another_. She who was never used to address a stranger.

_Queen_. A most unhappy woman stands before thee, and with streaming eyes casts away all the shame that modesty and rank combine to weigh her with, and prays thee: O go not! For behold! As I came to-day to G.o.d's dwelling-house full of tormenting thoughts--I saw thee on the way, thou scarce didst notice me--while I stood there before thy face longing within me that a sign might be given me, it seemed as though there flowed a something like light, like a murmuring through the s.p.a.cious place, as on a festal day the sacred miracle of His presence.

And a voice spoke in my heart: have faith, O woman, he came and he is thine; to thy people whose courage failed them, he shall be a hero, to thy child a father.... Then I fell thankfully upon my face. And now I beg thee: O go not!

_Duke_. And I tell thee, my lady Queen, he goes! I answer for it with my sword. If there is a prayer within the hero-soul of him, it runs thus: dear G.o.d, graciously be pleased to spare my reputation only as far as yonder door.

_Prince_. Thou liest.

_Hans_ [_whispers_]. Now defend thyself. Treason to thy being's sanctuary is a half-voluntary deed.

_Prince_. Forgive me, Lady, if but hesitatingly I have sworn myself into thy service. Behold, I tread a half-obscured path, and the dim traces lead me into the far gray distance ... lead me--and I know not whither. I know not whether that great night which descends upon the crudest sorrow of our common day, bringing sleep to the wearied soul, will wrap me also in its folds, or whether as reward for that unquenched spirit in me that still must trust, endure, and spread its wings, the sunshine of the heights at last will smile upon me. I am Desire's unwearied son; I bear her token hidden in my breast, and till that token fades or disappears, well canst thou say: "Come die for me,"

but never canst thou say: "Remain."

_Queen_. Then never shalt thou hear that bitter word, that word so full of weakness, come from my trembling lips. The blessing of this hour that pa.s.ses now shall never rise to distract thee on thy path in the gray distance. Yet there shall be a charm, rising unspoken in the soul itself, which when thou pausest wearied on thy journey, shall whisper to thee where a home still blooms for thee.... Where a balsam is prepared to heal thy wounded feet, bleeding from the sharpness of thy path ... where a thousand arms reach out to greet their loved one ...

whence those voices rise that call to thee out of the darkness ... and where there waits a smile, smothered with joy, to say to thee: "I charmed thee not."--I will be silent, lest thou shouldst be weary of my speech; since all my words speak only this desire: it rings within thine ears,--longing must find a resting-place.

_Prince_. O, that mine lay not so far from here! There, where the clouds disperse in light, and the eternal sun kisses my brow, there ...

Enough. Since thou hast asked no more than chance has in a measure forced me to, whether for good or evil I know not, I must needs grant thy wish. Hans, arm me.