The Works of Lord Byron Volume V Part 88

_Gab._ You look one still. All soldiers are Or should be comrades, even though enemies.

Our swords when drawn must cross, our engines aim (While levelled) at each other's hearts; but when A truce, a peace, or what you will, remits 350 The steel into its scabbard, and lets sleep The spark which lights the matchlock, we are brethren.

You are poor and sickly--I am not rich, but healthy; I want for nothing which I cannot want; You seem devoid of this--wilt share it?

[GABOR _pulls out his purse_.

_Wer._ Who Told you I was a beggar?

_Gab._ You yourself, In saying you were a soldier during peace-time.

_Wer._ (_looking at him with suspicion_). You know me not.

_Gab._ I know no man, not even Myself: how should I then know one I ne'er Beheld till half an hour since?

_Wer._ Sir, I thank you. 360 Your offer's n.o.ble were it to a friend, And not unkind as to an unknown stranger, Though scarcely prudent; but no less I thank you.

I am a beggar in all save his trade; And when I beg of any one, it shall be Of him who was the first to offer what Few can obtain by asking. Pardon me. [_Exit_ WERNER.

_Gab._ (_solus_). A goodly fellow by his looks, though worn As most good fellows are, by pain or pleasure, Which tear life out of us before our time; 370 I scarce know which most quickly: but he seems To have seen better days, as who has not Who has seen yesterday?--But here approaches Our sage intendant, with the wine: however, For the cup's sake I'll bear the cupbearer.

_Enter_ IDENSTEIN.

_Iden._ 'Tis here! the _supernaculum!_[168] twenty years Of age, if 'tis a day.

_Gab._ Which epoch makes Young women and old wine; and 'tis great pity, Of two such excellent things, increase of years, Which still improves the one, should spoil the other. 380 Fill full--Here's to our hostess!--your fair wife!

[_Takes the gla.s.s_.

_Iden._ Fair!--Well, I trust your taste in wine is equal To that you show for beauty; but I pledge you Nevertheless.

_Gab._ Is not the lovely woman I met in the adjacent hall, who, with An air, and port, and eye, which would have better Beseemed this palace in its brightest days (Though in a garb adapted to its present Abandonment), returned my salutation-- Is not the same your spouse?

_Iden._ I would she were! 390 But you're mistaken:--that's the stranger's wife.

_Gab._ And by her aspect she might be a Prince's; Though time hath touched her too, she still retains Much beauty, and more majesty.

_Iden._ And that Is more than I can say for Madame Idenstein, At least in beauty: as for majesty, She has some of its properties which might Be spared--but never mind!

_Gab._ I don't. But who May be this stranger? He too hath a bearing Above his outward fortunes.

_Iden._ There I differ. 400 He's poor as Job, and not so patient; but Who he may be, or what, or aught of him, Except his name (and that I only learned To-night), I know not.

_Gab._ But how came he here?

_Iden._ In a most miserable old caleche, About a month since, and immediately Fell sick, almost to death. He should have died.

_Gab._ Tender and true!--but why?

_Iden._ Why, what is life Without a living? He has not a stiver.[co]

_Gab._ In that case, I much wonder that a person 410 Of your apparent prudence should admit Guests so forlorn into this n.o.ble mansion.

_Iden._ That's true: but pity, as you know, _does_ make One's heart commit these follies; and besides, They had some valuables left at that time, Which paid their way up to the present hour; And so I thought they might as well be lodged Here as at the small tavern, and I gave them The run of some of the oldest palace rooms.

They served to air them, at the least as long 420 As they could pay for firewood.

_Gab._ Poor souls!

_Iden._ Aye, Exceeding poor.

_Gab._ And yet unused to poverty, If I mistake not. Whither were they going?

_Iden._ Oh! Heaven knows where, unless to Heaven itself.

Some days ago that looked the likeliest journey For Werner.

_Gab._ Werner! I have heard the name.

But it may be a feigned one.

_Iden._ Like enough!

But hark! a noise of wheels and voices, and A blaze of torches from without. As sure As destiny, his Excellency's come. 430 I must be at my post; will you not join me, To help him from his carriage, and present Your humble duty at the door?

_Gab._ I dragged him From out that carriage when he would have given His barony or county to repel The rushing river from his gurgling throat.

He has valets now enough: they stood aloof then, Shaking their dripping ears upon the sh.o.r.e, All roaring "Help!" but offering none; and as For _duty_ (as you call it)--I did mine _then_, 440 Now do _yours_. Hence, and bow and cringe him here!

_Iden._ _I_ cringe!--but I shall lose the opportunity-- Plague take it! he'll be _here_, and I _not there!_ [_Exit_ IDENSTEIN _hastily_.

_Re-enter_ WERNER.

_Wer._ (_to himself_). I heard a noise of wheels and voices. How All sounds now jar me! [_Perceiving_ GABOR.

Still here! Is he not A spy of my pursuer's? His frank offer So suddenly, and to a stranger, wore The aspect of a secret enemy; For friends are slow at such.

_Gab._ Sir, you seem rapt; And yet the time is not akin to thought. 450 These old walls will be noisy soon. The baron, Or count (or whatsoe'er this half drowned n.o.ble May be), for whom this desolate village and Its lone inhabitants show more respect Than did the elements, is come.

_Iden._ (_without_). This way-- This way, your Excellency:--have a care, The staircase is a little gloomy, and Somewhat decayed; but if we had expected So high a guest--Pray take my arm, my Lord!

_Enter_ STRALENHEIM, IDENSTEIN, _and Attendants--partly his own, and partly Retainers of the Domain of which_ IDENSTEIN _is Intendant_.

_Stral._ I'll rest here a moment.

_Iden._ (_to the servants_). Ho! a chair! 460 Instantly, knaves. [STRALENHEIM _sits down_.

_Wer._ (_aside_). Tis he!

_Stral._ I'm better now.

Who are these strangers?

_Iden._ Please you, my good Lord, One says he is no stranger.

_Wer._ (_aloud and hastily_). _Who_ says that?

[_They look at him with surprise_.

_Iden._ Why, no one spoke _of you_, or _to you_!--but Here's one his Excellency may be pleased To recognise. [_Pointing to_ GABOR.

_Gab._ I seek not to disturb His n.o.ble memory.