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BUTLER (rises).
His lot is mine.
OCTAVIO.
Is that your last resolve?
BUTLER.
It is.
OCTAVIO.
Nay, but bethink you, Colonel Butler.
As yet you have time. Within my faithful breast That rashly uttered word remains interred.
Recall it, Butler! choose a better party; You have not chosen the right one.
BUTLER (going).
Any other Commands for me, lieutenant-general?
OCTAVIO.
See your white hairs; recall that word!
BUTLER.
Farewell!
OCTAVIO.
What! Would you draw this good and gallant sword In such a cause? Into a curse would you Transform the grat.i.tude which you have earned By forty years' fidelity from Austria?
BUTLER (laughing with bitterness).
Grat.i.tude from the House of Austria!
[He is going.
OCTAVIO (permits him to go as far as the door, then calls after him).
Butler!
BUTLER.
What wish you?
OCTAVIO.
How was't with the count?
BUTLER.
Count? what?
OCTAVIO (coldly).
The t.i.tle that you wished, I mean.
BUTLER (starts in sudden pa.s.sion).
h.e.l.l and d.a.m.nation!
OCTAVIO (coldly).
You pet.i.tioned for it-- And your pet.i.tion was repelled--was it so?
BUTLER.
Your insolent scoff shall not go by unpunished.
Draw!
OCTAVIO.
Nay! your sword to its sheath! and tell me calmly How all that happened. I will not refuse you Your satisfaction afterwards. 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-haired 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-earned honors!
OCTAVIO.
But tell me, did the duke approve that measure?
BUTLER.
Himself impelled 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.
