Ulr. Count, 't is a marriage of your making So be it of your wooing; but to please you I will now pay my duty to my mother, With whom, you know, the lady Ida is. What would you have? You have forbid my stirring For manly sports beyond the castle walls, And I obey; you bid me turn a chamberer, To pick up gloves, and fans, and knitting needles, And list to songs and tunes, and watch for smiles, And smile at pretty prattle, and look into The eyes of feminine, as though they were The stars receding early to our wish Upon the dawn of a world-winning battle -
What can a son or man do more? [Exit ULRIC. Sieg. (solus). Too much!-
Too much of duty, and too little love! He pays me in the coin he owes me not: For such hath been my wayward fate, I could not Fulfil a parent's duties by his side
Till now; but love he owes me, for my thoughts Ne'er left him, nor my eyes long'd without tears To see my child again, and now I have found him! But how!-obedient, but with coldness; duteous In my sight, but with carelessness; mysterious- Abstracted-distant-much given to long absence, And where-none know-in league with the most riotous
Of our young nobles; though, to do him justice, He never stoops down to their vulgar pleasures; Yet there's some tie between them which I cannot Unravel. They look up to him-consult him— Throng round him as a leader: but with me He hath no confidence! Ah! can I hope it After-what! doth my father's curse descend Even to my child? Or is the Hungarian near To shed more blood? or-Oh! if it should be! Spirit of Stralenheim, dost thou walk these walls To wither him and his—who, though they slew not, Unlatch'd the door of death for thee? "T was not Our fault, nor is our sin thou wert our foe, And yet I spared thee when my own destruction Slept with thee, to awake with thine awakening ! And only took-Accursed gold! thou liest Like poison in my hands; I dare not use thee, Nor part from thee; thou camest in such a guise, Methinks thou wouldst contaminate all hands Like mine. Yet I have done, to atone for thee, Thou villanous gold! and thy dead master's doom,
Peace be with these walls, and all
And may thy prayer be heard!—all men have need Of such, and I
Have the first claim to all
The prayers of our community. Our convent, Erected by your ancestors, is still
Protected by their children.
In these dim days of heresies and blood, Though the schismatic Swede, Gustavus, is Gone home. Prior. To the endless home of unbelievers, Where there is everlasting wail and woe, Gnashing of teeth, and tears of blood, and fire Eternal, and the worm which dieth not!
Sieg. True, father: and to avert those pangs from Who, though of our most faultless holy church, Yet died without its last and dearest offices, Which smooth the soul through purgatorial pains, I have to offer humbly this donation In masses for his spirit.
[SIEGENDORF offers the gold which he had taken from STRALENHEIM.
Prior. Count, if I Receive it, 'tis because I know too well Refusal would offend you. Be assured The largess shall be only dealt in alms, And every mass no less sung for the dead. Our house needs no donations, thanks to yours, Which has of old endow'd it; but from you And yours in all meet things 'tis fit we obey. For whom shall mass be said? Sieg. (faltering). Prior. His name? Sieg.
"T is from a soul, and not a name,
I would avert perdition. Prior.
To pry into your secret. For one unknown, the same as for the proudest. Sieg. Secret! I have none; but, father, he who
I could only guess at one, And he to me a stranger, unconnected,
As unemploy'd. Except by one day's knowledge, I never saw the man who was suspected. Prior. Then you are free from guilt. Sieg. (eagerly).
Oh! am I?-say! Prior. You have said so, and know best. Sieg. Father! I have spoken The truth, and nought but truth, if not the whole: Yet say I am not guilty! for the blood
Of this man weighs on me, as if I shed it, Though, by the Power who abhorreth human blood, I did not !-nay, once spared it, when I might
And could-ay, perhaps, should (if our self-safety Be e'er excusable in such defences Against the attacks of over-potent foes): But pray for him, for me, and all my house; For, as I said, though I be innocent,
I know not why, a like remorse is on me, As if he had fallen by me or mine. Father! I have pray'd myself in vain. Prior.
Be comforted! You are innocent, and should Be calm as innocence. Sieg.
But calmness is not Always the attribute of innocence.
When the mind gathers up its truth within it. Remember the great festival to-morrow, In which you rank amidst our chiefest nobles, As well as your brave son; and smooth your aspect. Nor in the general orison of thanks
For bloodshed stopt, let blood you shed not rise
A large and magnificent Gothic Hall in the Castle of Siegendorf, decorated with Trophies, Banners, and Arms of that Family.
Enter ARNHEIM and MEISTER, attendants of COUNT SIEGENDORF.
Arn. Be quick! the count will soon return: the Already are at the portal. Have you sent [ladies The messengers in search of him he seeks for? Meis. I have, in all directions, over Prague, As far as the man's dress and figure could By your description track him. The devil take These revels and processions ! All the pleasure (If such there be) must fall to the spectators. I'm sure none doth to us who make the show. Arn. Go to my lady countess comes. Meis.
Ride a day's hunting on an outworn jade, Than follow in the train of a great man In these dull pageantries.
Enter the COUNTESS JOSEPHINE SIEGENDORF and
Well, Heaven be praised, the show is over! Ida. How can you say so? Never have I dreamt Of aught so beautiful. The flowers, the boughs, The banners, and the nobles, and the knights, The gems, the robes, the plumes, the happy faces, The coursers, and the incense, and the sun Streaming through the stain'd windows, even the tombs, Which look'd so calm, and the celestial hymns, Which seem'd as if they rather came from heaven Than mounted there. The bursting organ's peal Rolling on high like an harmonious thunder; The white robes and the lifted eyes; the world At peace! and all at peace with one another! Oh, my sweet mother! [Embracing Josephine. My beloved child! For such, I trust, thou shalt be shortly.
My destinies were woven in that name: It will be not engraved upon my tomb, But it may lead me there. Ulr. To the point-the Hungarian? Sieg. Listen!The church was throng'd; the hymn was raised;
"Te Deum" peal'd from nations, rather than From choirs, in one great cry of "God be praised" For one day's peace, after thrice ten dread years, Each bloodier than the former: I arose, With all the nobles, and as I look'd down Along the lines of lifted faces,- from Our banner'd and escutcheon'd gallery, I Saw, like a flash of lightning (for I saw
A moment and no more), what struck me sightless To all else the Hungarian's face! I grew
Sick; and when I recover'd from the mist Which curl'd about my senses, and again Look'd down, I saw him not. The thanksgiving Was over, and we march'd back in procession. Ulr. Continue.
When we reach'd the Muldau's bridge, The joyous crowd above, the numberless Barks mann'd with revellers in their best garbs, Which shot along the glancing tide below, The decorated street, the long array,
The clashing music, and the thundering Of far artillery, which seem'd to bid
A long and loud farewell to its great doings, The standards o'er me, and the tramplings round, The roar of rushing thousands,-all-all could not Chase this man from my mind, although my senses No longer held him palpable.
Ur. In searching for this man, or When he's found
What shall we do with him?
Ulr. Then wherefore seek? Sieg.
Gab. (pointing to ULRIC).
[ULRIC rushes forward to attack GABOR; SIEGENDORF interposes.
Sieg. Liar and fiend! but you shall not be slain; These walls are mine, and you are safe within them. [He turns to ULRIC.
Because I cannot rest Ulric, repel this calumny, as I
Sieg. (haughtily). The same you knew, sir, by that name; and you!
Gab. (looking round). I recognise you both: father and son,
It seems. Count, I have heard that you, or yours, Have lately been in search of me: I am here. Sieg. I have sought you, and have found you: you are charged
(Your own heart may inform you why) with such [He pauses. Give it utterance, and then I'll meet the consequences.
When we met in the garden. Ulr. (composes himself). Gab. Count, you are bound to hear me. I came
By Stralenheim's death? Was 't I-as poor as ever; And poorer by suspicion on my name ! The baron lost in that last outrage neither Jewels nor gold; his life alone was sought, A life which stood between the claims of others To honours and estates scarce less than princely. Sieg. These hints, as vague as vain, attach no less To me than to my son.
Gab. I can't help that. But let the consequence alight on him Who feels himself the guilty one among us. I speak of you, Count Siegendorf, because I know you innocent, and deem you just. But ere I can proceed-dare you protect me? Dare you command me?
[SIEGENDORF first looks at the Hungarian, and then at ULRIC, who has unbuckled his sabre, and is drawing lines with it on the floor- still in its sheath.
Ulr. (looks at his father and says)
Let the man go on! Gab. I am unarm'd, count-bid your son lay down His sabre.
Ulr. (offers it to him contemptuously).
The tale is doubtless worthy the relater. But is it of my father to hear further?
Sieg. (takes his son by the hand). My son, I know my own innocence, and doubt not
Of yours-but I have promised this man patience; Let him continue.
I will not detain you
By speaking of myself much I began
Life early-and am what the world has made me. At Frankfort on the Oder, where I pass'd A winter in obscurity, it was
My chance at several places of resort
(Which I frequented sometimes, but not often) To hear related a strange circumstance In February last. A martial force,
Sent by the state, had, after strong resistance, Secured a band of desperate men, supposed Marauders from the hostile camp. They proved, However, not to be so-but banditti, Whom either accident or enterprise
Had carried from their usual haunt-the forests Which skirt Bohemia-even into Lusatia. Many amongst them were reported of High rank-and martial law slept for a time. At last they were escorted o'er the frontiers, And placed beneath the civil jurisdiction Of the free town of Frankfort. Of their fate, I know no more.
Gab. Amongst them there was said to be one man Of wonderful endowments :-birth and fortune, Youth, strength, and beauty, almost superhuman, And courage as unrivall'd, were proclaim'd His by the public rumour; and his sway, Not only over his associates, but His judges, was attributed to witchcraft,
Such was his influence : —I have no great faith In any magic save that of the mine—
I therefore deem'd him wealthy. But my soul Was roused with various feelings to seek out This prodigy, if only to behold him. Sieg. And did you so? Gab.
You'll hear. Chance favour'd me: A popular affray in the public square Drew crowds together-it was one of those Occasions where men's souls look out of them, And show them as they are-even in their faces: The moment my eye met his, I exclaim'd, "This is the man!" though he was then, as since, With the nobles of the city. I felt sure
I had not err'd, and watch'd him long and nearly; I noted down his form-his gesture-features, Stature, and bearing—and amidst them all, Midst every natural and acquired distinction, I could discern, methought, the assassin's eye And gladiator's heart.
Gab. And may sound better. He appear'd to me One of those beings to whom Fortune bends
As she doth to the daring—and on whom
The fates of others oft depend; besides,
A man above his station-and if not So high, as now I find you, in my then Conceptions, 't was that I had rarely seen Men such as you appear'd in height of mind In the most high of worldly rank; you were Poor, even to all save rags: I would have shared My purse, though slender, with you-you refused it. Sieg. Doth my refusal make a debt to you, That thus you urge it?
Gab. Still you owe me something, Though not for that; and I owed you my safety, At least my seeming safety, when the slaves Of Stralenheim pursued me on the grounds That I had robb'd him.
Sieg. I conceal'd you—I, Whom and whose house you arraign, reviving viper! Gab. I accuse no man-save in my defence. You, count, have made yourself accuser-judge: Your hall's my court, your heart is my tribunal. Be just, and I'll be merciful!
In secret passages known to yourself, You said, and to none else. At dead of night, Weary with watching in the dark, and dubious Of tracing back my way, I saw a glimmer, Through distant crannies, of a twinkling light: I follow'd it, and reach'd a door-a secret Portal-which open'd to the chamber, where, With cautious hand and slow, having first undone As much as made a crevice of the fastening, I look'd through and beheld a purple bed, And on it Stralenheim !—
Recede now, though it shake the very walls Which frown above us. You remember,—or If not, your son does, that the locks were changed Beneath his chief inspection on the morn Which led to this same night: how he had enter'd He best knows—but within an antechamber, I follow'd him, The door of which was half ajar, I saw A man who wash'd his bloody hands, and oft
An indescribable sensation drew me Near to this man, as if my point of fortune Was to be fix'd by him. --There I was wrong. Sieg. And may not be right now. Gab.
Solicited his notice-and obtain'd it—
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