The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 250

And now, methinks, the door will hold awhile.

The axe at home oft saves the carpenter.

HEDWIG.

Whither away!

[Takes his cap.

TELL.

To Altdorf, to your father.

HEDWIG.

You have some dangerous enterprise in view? Confess!

TELL.

Why think you so?

HEDWIG.

Some scheme's on foot, Against the governors. There was a Diet Held on the Rootli--that I know--and you Are one of the confederacy I'm sure.

TELL.

I was not there. Yet will I not hold back Whene'er my country calls me to her aid.

HEDWIG.

Wherever danger is, will you be placed.

On you, as ever, will the burden fall.

TELL.

Each man shall have the post that fits his powers.

HEDWIG.

You took--ay, 'mid the thickest of the storm-- The man of Unterwald across the lake.

'Tis a marvel you escaped. Had you no thought Of wife and children then?

TELL.

Dear wife, I bad; And therefore saved the father for his children.

HEDWIG.

To brave the lake in all its wrath; 'Twas not To put your trust in G.o.d! 'Twas tempting him.

TELL.

The man that's over-cautious will do little.

HEDWIG.

Yes, you've a kind and helping hand for all; But be in straits and who will lend you aid?

TELL.

G.o.d grant I ne'er may stand in need of it!

[Takes up his crossbow and arrows.

HEDWIG.

Why take your crossbow with you? Leave it here.

TELL.

I want my right hand when I want my bow.

[The boys return.

WALTER.

Where, father, are you going?

TELL.

To grand-dad, boy-- To Altdorf. Will you go?

WALTER.

Ay, that I will!

HEDWIG.

The viceroy's there just now. Go not to Altdorf.

TELL.

He leaves to-day.

HEDWIG.

Then let him first be gone, Cross not his path. You know he bears us grudge.

TELL.

His ill-will cannot greatly injure me.

I do what's right, and care for no man's hate.

HEDWIG.

'Tis those who do what's right whom he most hates.

TELL.

Because he cannot reach them. Me, I ween, His knightship will be glad to leave in peace.

HEDWIG.

Ay! Are you sure of that?

TELL.

Not long ago, As I was hunting through the wild ravines Of Shechenthal, untrod by mortal foot,-- There, as I took my solitary way Along a shelving ledge of rocks, where 'twas Impossible to step on either side; For high above rose, like a giant wall, The precipice's side, and far below The Shechen thundered o'er its rifted bed;--

[The boys press towards him, looking upon him with excited curiosity.

There, face to face, I met the viceroy. He Alone with me--and I myself alone-- Mere man to man, and near us the abyss.

And when his lordship had perused my face, And knew the man he had severely fined On some most trivial ground not long before; And saw me, with my st.u.r.dy bow in hand, Come striding towards him, then his cheek grew pale, His knees refused their office, and I thought He would have sunk against the mountain side.

Then, touched with pity for him, I advanced, Respectfully, and said, "'Tis I, my lord."

But ne'er a sound could he compel his lips To frame an answer. Only with his hand He beckoned me in silence to proceed.