Chapter 33

_Enter_ ERIC _and_ HENRICK, _Retainers of the Count_.

_Eric_. So, better times are come at last; to these Old walls new masters and high wassail--both A long desideratum.

_Hen._ Yes, for _masters_, It might be unto those who long for novelty, Though made by a new grave: but, as for wassail, Methinks the old Count Siegendorf maintained His feudal hospitality as high As e'er another Prince of the empire.

_Eric_. Why For the mere cup and trencher, we no doubt Fared passing well; but as for merriment 10 And sport, without which salt and sauces season The cheer but scantily, our sizings were Even of the narrowest.

_Hen._ The old count loved not The roar of revel; are you sure that _this_ does?

_Eric_. As yet he hath been courteous as he's bounteous, And we all love him.

_Hen._ His reign is as yet Hardly a year o'erpast its honeymoon, And the first year of sovereigns is bridal: Anon, we shall perceive his real sway And moods of mind.

_Eric_. Pray Heaven he keep the present! 20 Then his brave son, Count Ulric--there's a knight! Pity the wars are o'er!

_Hen._ Why so?

_Eric_. Look on him! And answer that yourself.

_Hen._ He's very youthful, And strong and beautiful as a young tiger.

_Eric_. That's not a faithful vassal's likeness.

_Hen._ But Perhaps a true one.

_Eric_. Pity, as I said, The wars are over: in the hall, who like Count Ulric for a well-supported pride, Which awes, but yet offends not? in the field, Who like him with his spear in hand, when gnashing 30 His tusks, and ripping up, from right to left, The howling hounds, the boar makes for the thicket? Who backs a horse, or bears a hawk, or wears A sword like him? Whose plume nods knightlier?

_Hen._ No one's, I grant you. Do not fear, if war Be long in coming, he is of that kind Will make it for himself, if he hath not Already done as much.

_Eric_. What do you mean?

_Hen._ You can't deny his train of followers (But few our native fellow-vassals born 40 On the domain) are such a sort of knaves As---- [_Pauses_.

_Eric_. What?

_Hen._ The war (you love so much) leaves living. Like other parents, she spoils her worst children.

_Eric_. Nonsense! they are all brave iron-visaged fellows, Such as old Tilly loved.

_Hen._ And who loved Tilly? Ask that at Magdebourg[194]--or, for that matter, Wallenstein either;--they are gone to----

_Eric_. Rest! But what beyond 'tis not ours to pronounce.

_Hen._ I wish they had left us something of their rest: The country (nominally now at peace) 50 Is over-run with--God knows who: they fly By night, and disappear with sunrise; but Leave us no less desolation, nay, even more, Than the most open warfare.

_Eric_. But Count Ulric-- What has all this to do with him?

_Hen._ With him! He----might prevent it. As you say he's fond Of war, why makes he it not on those marauders?

_Eric_. You'd better ask himself.

_Hen._ I would as soon Ask the lion why he laps not milk.

_Eric_. And here he comes!

_Hen._ The devil! you'll hold your tongue? 60

_Eric_. Why do you turn so pale?

_Hen._ 'Tis nothing--but Be silent.

_Eric_. I will, upon what you have said.

_Hen._ I assure you I meant nothing,--a mere sport Of words, no more; besides, had it been otherwise, He is to espouse the gentle Baroness Ida of Stralenheim, the late Baron's heiress; And she, no doubt, will soften whatsoever Of fierceness the late long intestine wars Have given all natures, and most unto those Who were born in them, and bred up upon 70 The knees of Homicide; sprinkled, as it were, With blood even at their baptism. Prithee, peace On all that I have said!

_Enter_ ULRIC _and_ RODOLPH.

Good morrow, count.

_Ulr._ Good morrow, worthy Henrick. Eric, is All ready for the chase?

_Eric_. The dogs are ordered Down to the forest, and the vassals out To beat the bushes, and the day looks promising. Shall I call forth your Excellency's suite? What courser will you please to mount?

_Ulr._ The dun, Walstein.

_Eric_. I fear he scarcely has recovered 80 The toils of Monday: 'twas a noble chase: You speared _four_ with your own hand.

_Ulr._ True, good Eric; I had forgotten--let it be the grey, then, Old Ziska: he has not been out this fortnight.

_Eric_. He shall be straight caparisoned. How many Of your immediate retainers shall Escort you?

_Ulr._ I leave that to Weilburgh, our Master of the horse. [_Exit_ ERIC. Rodolph!

_Rod._ My Lord!

_Ulr._ The news Is awkward from the---- [RODOLPH _points to_ HENRICK. How now, Henrick? why Loiter you here?

_Hen._ For your commands, my Lord. 90

_Ulr._ Go to my father, and present my duty, And learn if he would aught with me before I mount. [_Exit_ HENRICK. Rodolph, our friends have had a check Upon the frontiers of Franconia[195], and 'Tis rumoured that the column sent against them Is to be strengthened. I must join them soon.

_Rod._ Best wait for further and more sure advices.

_Ulr._ I mean it--and indeed it could not well Have fallen out at a time more opposite To all my plans.

_Rod._ It will be difficult 100 To excuse your absence to the Count your father.

_Ulr._ Yes, but the unsettled state of our domain In high Silesia will permit and cover My journey. In the mean time, when we are Engaged in the chase, draw off the eighty men Whom Wolffe leads--keep the forests on your route: You know it well?

_Rod._ As well as on that night When we----

_Ulr._ We will not speak of that until We can repeat the same with like success: And when you have joined, give Rosenberg this letter. 110 [_Gives a letter_. Add further, that I have sent this slight addition To our force with you and Wolffe, as herald of My coming, though I could but spare them ill At this time, as my father loves to keep Full numbers of retainers round the castle, Until this marriage, and its feasts and fooleries, Are rung out with its peal of nuptial nonsense.

_Rod._ I thought you loved the lady Ida?

_Ulr._ Why, I do so--but it follows not from that I would bind in my youth and glorious years, 120 So brief and burning, with a lady's zone, Although 'twere that of Venus:--but I love her, As woman should be loved--fairly and solely.

_Rod._ And constantly?

_Ulr._ I think so; for I love Nought else.--But I have not the time to pause Upon these gewgaws of the heart. Great things We have to do ere long. Speed! speed! good Rodolph!

_Rod._ On my return, however, I shall find The Baroness Ida lost in Countess Siegendorf?

_Ulr._ Perhaps: my father wishes it, and, sooth, 130 'Tis no bad policy: this union with The last bud of the rival branch at once Unites the future and destroys the past.

_Rod._ Adieu.

_Ulr._ Yet hold--we had better keep together Until the chase begins; then draw thou off, And do as I have said.

_Rod._ I will. But to Return--'twas a most kind act in the count Your father to send up to Konigsberg For this fair orphan of the Baron, and To hail her as his daughter.

_Ulr._ Wondrous kind! 140 Especially as little kindness till Then grew between them.

_Rod._ The late Baron died Of a fever, did he not?

_Ulr._ How should I know?

_Rod._ I have heard it whispered there was something strange About his death--and even the place of it Is scarcely known.

_Ulr._ Some obscure village on The Saxon or Silesian frontier.

_Rod._ He Has left no testament--no farewell words?

_Ulr._ I am neither confessor nor notary, So cannot say.

_Rod._ Ah! here's the lady Ida. 150

_Enter_ IDA STRALENHEIM.

_Ulr._ You are early, my sweet cousin!

_Ida._ Not _too_ early, Dear Ulric, if I do not interrupt you. Why do you call me "_Cousin?_"

_Ulr._ (_smiling_). Are we not so?

_Ida._ Yes, but I do not like the name; methinks It sounds so cold, as if you thought upon Our pedigree, and only weighed our blood.

_Ulr._ (_starting_). Blood!

_Ida._ Why does yours start from your cheeks?

_Ulr._ Aye! doth it?

_Ida._ It doth--but no! it rushes like a torrent Even to your brow again.

_Ulr._ (_recovering himself_). And if it fled, It only was because your presence sent it 160 Back to my heart, which beats for you, sweet Cousin!

_Ida._ "Cousin" again.

_Ulr._ Nay, then, I'll call you sister.

_Ida._ I like that name still worse.--Would we had ne'er Been aught of kindred!

_Ulr._ (_gloomily_). Would we never had!

_Ida._ Oh, heavens! and can _you wish that?_

_Ulr._ Dearest Ida! Did I not echo your own wish?

_Ida._ Yes, Ulric, But then I wished it not with such a glance, And scarce knew what I said; but let me be Sister, or cousin, what you will, so that I still to you am something.

_Ulr._ You shall be 170 All--all----

_Ida._ And you to _me are_ so already; But I can wait.

_Ulr._ Dear Ida!

_Ida._ Call me Ida, _Your_ Ida, for I would be yours, none else's-- Indeed I have none else left, since my poor father-- [_She pauses_.

_Ulr._ You have _mine_--you have _me_.

_Ida._ Dear Ulric, how I wish My father could but view my happiness, Which wants but this!

_Ulr._ Indeed!

_Ida._ You would have loved him, He you; for the brave ever love each other: His manner was a little cold, his spirit Proud (as is birth's prerogative); but under 180 This grave exterior----Would you had known each other! Had such as you been near him on his journey, He had not died without a friend to soothe His last and lonely moments.

_Ulr._ Who says _that?_

_Ida._ What?

_Ulr._ That he _died alone_.

_Ida._ The general rumour, And disappearance of his servants, who Have ne'er returned: that fever was most deadly Which swept them all away.

_Ulr._ If they were near him, He could not die neglected or alone.

_Ida._ Alas! what is a menial to a death-bed, 190 When the dim eye rolls vainly round for what It loves?--They say he died of a fever.

_Ulr._ _Say!_ It _was_ so.

_Ida._ I sometimes dream otherwise.

_Ulr._ All dreams are false.

_Ida._ And yet I see him as I see you.

_Ulr._ _Where?_

_Ida._ In sleep--I see him lie Pale, bleeding, and a man with a raised knife Beside him.

_Ulr._ But you do not see his _face?_

_Ida_ (_looking at him_). No! Oh, my God! do _you?_

_Ulr._ Why do you ask?

_Ida._ Because you look as if you saw a murderer!

_Ulr._ (_agitatedly_). Ida, this is mere childishness; your weakness 200 Infects me, to my shame: but as all feelings Of yours are common to me, it affects me. Prithee, sweet child, change----

_Ida._ Child, indeed! I have Full fifteen summers! [_A bugle sounds_.

_Rod._ Hark, my Lord, the bugle!

_Ida_ (_peevishly to_ RODOLPH). Why need you tell him that? Can he not hear it Without your echo?

_Rod._ Pardon me, fair Baroness!

_Ida._ I will not pardon you, unless you earn it By aiding me in my dissuasion of Count Ulric from the chase to-day.

_Rod._ You will not, Lady, need aid of mine.

_Ulr._ I must not now 210 Forgo it.

_Ida._ But you shall!

_Ulr._ _Shall!_

_Ida._ Yes, or be No true knight.--Come, dear Ulric! yield to me In this, for this one day: the day looks heavy, And you are turned so pale and ill.

_Ulr._ You jest.

_Ida._ Indeed I do not:--ask of Rodolph.

_Rod._ Truly, My Lord, within this quarter of an hour You have changed more than e'er I saw you change In years.

_Ulr._ 'Tis nothing; but if 'twere, the air Would soon restore me. I'm the true cameleon, And live but on the atmosphere;[196] your feasts 220 In castle halls, and social banquets, nurse not My spirit--I'm a forester and breather Of the steep mountain-tops,[197] where I love all The eagle loves.

_Ida._ Except his prey, I hope.

_Ulr._ Sweet Ida, wish me a fair chase, and I Will bring you six boars' heads for trophies home.

_Ida._ And will you not stay, then? You shall not go! Come! I will sing to you.

_Ulr._ Ida, you scarcely Will make a soldier's wife.

_Ida._ I do not wish To be so; for I trust these wars are over, 230 And you will live in peace on your domains.

_Enter_ WERNER _as_ COUNT SIEGENDORF.

_Ulr._ My father, I salute you, and it grieves me With such brief greeting.--You have heard our bugle; The vassals wait.

_Sieg._ So let them.--You forget To-morrow is the appointed festival In Prague[198] for peace restored. You are apt to follow The chase with such an ardour as will scarce Permit you to return to-day, or if Returned, too much fatigued to join to-morrow The nobles in our marshalled ranks.

_Ulr._ You, Count, 240 Will well supply the place of both--I am not A lover of these pageantries.

_Sieg._ No, Ulric; It were not well that you alone of all Our young nobility----

_Ida._ And far the noblest In aspect and demeanour.

_Sieg._ (_to_ IDA). True, dear child, Though somewhat frankly said for a fair damsel.-- But, Ulric, recollect too our position, So lately reinstated in our honours. Believe me, 'twould be marked in any house, But most in _ours_, that ONE should be found wanting 250 At such a time and place. Besides, the Heaven Which gave us back our own, in the same moment It spread its peace o'er all, hath double claims On us for thanksgiving: first, for our country; And next, that we are here to share its blessings.

_Ulr._ (_aside_). Devout, too! Well, sir, I obey at once. (_Then aloud to a servant_.) Ludwig, dismiss the train without! [_Exit_ LUDWIG. _Ida._ And so You yield, at once, to him what I for hours Might supplicate in vain.

_Sieg._ (_smiling_). You are not jealous Of me, I trust, my pretty rebel! who 260 Would sanction disobedience against all Except thyself? But fear not; thou shalt rule him Hereafter with a fonder sway and firmer.

_Ida._ But I should like to govern _now_.

_Sieg._ You shall, Your _harp_, which by the way awaits you with The Countess in her chamber. She complains That you are a sad truant to your music: She attends you.

_Ida._ Then good morrow, my kind kinsmen! Ulric, you'll come and hear me?

_Ulr._ By and by.

_Ida._ Be sure I'll sound it better than your bugles; 270 Then pray you be as punctual to its notes: I'll play you King Gustavus' march.

_Ulr._ And why not Old Tilly's?

_Ida._ Not that monster's! I should think My harp-strings rang with groans, and not with music, Could aught of _his_ sound on it:--but come quickly; Your mother will be eager to receive you. [_Exit_ IDA.

_Sieg._ Ulric, I wish to speak with you alone.

_Ulr._ My time's your vassal.-- (_Aside to_ RODOLPH.) Rodolph, hence! and do As I directed: and by his best speed And readiest means let Rosenberg reply. 280

_Rod._ Count Siegendorf, command you aught? I am bound Upon a journey past the frontier.

_Sieg._ (_starts_). Ah!-- Where? on _what_ frontier?

_Rod._ The Silesian, on My way--(_Aside to_ ULRIC.)--_Where_ shall I say?

_Ulr._ (_aside to_ RODOLPH). To Hamburgh. (_Aside to himself_). That Word will, I think, put a firm padlock on His further inquisition.

_Rod._ Count, to Hamburgh.

_Sieg._ (_agitated_). Hamburgh! No, I have nought to do there, nor Am aught connected with that city. Then God speed you!

_Rod._ Fare ye well, Count Siegendorf! [_Exit_ RODOLPH.

_Sieg._ Ulric, this man, who has just departed, is 290 One of those strange companions whom I fain Would reason with you on.

_Ulr._ My Lord, he is Noble by birth, of one of the first houses In Saxony.

_Sieg._ I talk not of his birth, But of his bearing. Men speak lightly of him.

_Ulr._ So they will do of most men. Even the monarch Is not fenced from his chamberlain's slander, or The sneer of the last courtier whom he has made Great and ungrateful.

_Sieg._ If I must be plain, The world speaks more than lightly of this Rodolph: 300 They say he is leagued with the "black bands" who still Ravage the frontier.

_Ulr._ And will you believe The world?

_Sieg._ In this case--yes.

_Ulr._ In _any_ case, I thought you knew it better than to take An accusation for a sentence.

_Sieg._ Son! I understand you: you refer to----but My destiny has so involved about me Her spider web, that I can only flutter Like the poor fly, but break it not. Take heed, Ulric; you have seen to what the passions led me: 310 Twenty long years of misery and famine Quenched them not--twenty thousand more, perchance, Hereafter (or even here in _moments_ which Might date for years, did Anguish make the dial), May not obliterate or expiate The madness and dishonour of an instant. Ulric, be warned by a father!--I was not By mine, and you behold me!

_Ulr._ I behold The prosperous and belovéd Siegendorf, Lord of a Prince's appanage, and honoured 320 By those he rules and those he ranks with.

_Sieg._ Ah! Why wilt thou call me prosperous, while I fear For thee? Belovéd, when thou lovest me not! All hearts but one may beat in kindness for me-- But if my son's is cold!----

_Ulr._ Who _dare_ say that?

_Sieg._ None else but I, who see it--_feel_ it--keener Than would your adversary, who dared say so, Your sabre in his heart! But mine survives The wound.

_Ulr._ You err. My nature is not given To outward fondling: how should it be so, 330 After twelve years' divorcement from my parents?

_Sieg._ And did not _I_ too pass those twelve torn years In a like absence? But 'tis vain to urge you-- Nature was never called back by remonstrance. Let's change the theme. I wish you to consider That these young violent nobles of high name, But dark deeds (aye, the darkest, if all Rumour Reports be true), with whom thou consortest, Will lead thee----

_Ulr._ (_impatiently_). I'll be _led_ by no man.

_Sieg._ Nor Be leader of such, I would hope: at once 340 To wean thee from the perils of thy youth And haughty spirit, I have thought it well That thou shouldst wed the lady Ida--more As thou appear'st to love her.

_Ulr._ I have said I will obey your orders, were they to Unite with Hecate--can a son say more?

_Sieg._ He says too much in saying this. It is not The nature of thine age, nor of thy blood, Nor of thy temperament, to talk so coolly, Or act so carelessly, in that which is 350 The bloom or blight of all men's happiness, (For Glory's pillow is but restless, if Love lay not down his cheek there): some strong bias, Some master fiend is in thy service, to Misrule the mortal who believes him slave, And makes his every thought subservient; else Thou'dst say at once--"I love young Ida, and Will wed her;" or, "I love her not, and all The powers on earth shall never make me."--So Would _I_ have answered.

_Ulr._ Sir, _you_ wed for love. 360

_Sieg._ I did, and it has been my only refuge In many miseries.

_Ulr._ Which miseries Had never been but for this love-match.

_Sieg._ Still Against your age and nature! Who at twenty E'er answered thus till now?

_Ulr._ Did you not warn me Against your own example?

_Sieg._ Boyish sophist! In a word, do you love, or love not, Ida?

_Ulr._ What matters it, if I am ready to Obey you in espousing her?

_Sieg._ As far As you feel, nothing--but all life for her. 370 She's young--all-beautiful--adores you--is Endowed with qualities to give happiness, Such as rounds common life into a dream Of something which your poets cannot paint, And (if it were not wisdom to love virtue), For which Philosophy might barter Wisdom; And giving so much happiness, deserves A little in return. I would not have her Break her heart with a man who has none to break! Or wither on her stalk like some pale rose 380 Deserted by the bird she thought a nightingale, According to the Orient tale.[199] She is----

_Ulr._ The daughter of dead Stralenheim, your foe: I'll wed her, ne'ertheless; though, to say truth, Just now I am not violently transported In favour of such unions.

_Sieg._ But she loves you.

_Ulr._ And I love her, and therefore would think _twice_.

_Sieg._ Alas! Love never did so.

_Ulr._ Then 'tis time He should begin, and take the bandage from His eyes, and look before he leaps; till now 390 He hath ta'en a jump i' the dark.

_Sieg._ But you consent?

_Ulr._ I did, and do.

_Sieg._ Then fix the day.

_Ulr._ Tis usual, And, certes, courteous, to leave that to the lady.

_Sieg._ _I_ will engage for _her_.

_Ulr._ So will not _I_ For any woman: and as what I fix, I fain would see unshaken, when she gives Her answer, I'll give mine.

_Sieg._ But 'tis your office To woo.

_Ulr._ Count, 'tis a marriage of your making, So be it of your wooing; but to please you, I will now pay my duty to my mother, 400 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-- 410 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 longed 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-- 420 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 can not 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 430 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, Unlatched the door of Death for thee? 'Twas 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--Accurséd gold! thou liest Like poison in my hands; I dare not use thee, Nor part from thee; thou camest in such a guise, 440 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, Though he died not by me or mine, as much As if he were my brother! I have ta'en His orphan Ida--cherished her as one Who will be mine.

_Enter an_ ATTENDANT.

_Atten._ The abbot, if it please Your Excellency, whom you sent for, waits Upon you. [_Exit_ ATTENDANT.

_Enter the_ PRIOR ALBERT.

_Prior_. Peace be with these walls, and all Within them!

_Sieg._ Welcome, welcome, holy father! 450 And may thy prayer be heard!--all men have need Of such, and I----

_Prior_. Have the first claim to all The prayers of our community. Our convent, Erected by your ancestors, is still Protected by their children.

_Sieg._ Yes, good father; Continue daily orisons for us 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, 460 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 one, 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 470 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 endowed it; but from you And yours in all meet things 'tis fit we obey. For whom shall mass be said?

_Sieg._ (_faltering_). For--for--the dead.

_Prior_. His name?

_Sieg._ 'Tis from a soul, and not a name, I would avert perdition.

_Prior_. I meant not To pry into your secret. We will pray For one unknown, the same as for the proudest. 480

_Sieg._ Secret! I have none: but, father, he who's gone Might _have_ one; or, in short, he did bequeath-- No, not bequeath--but I bestow this sum For pious purposes.

_Prior_. A proper deed In the behalf of our departed friends.

_Sieg._ But he who's gone was not my friend, but foe, The deadliest and the stanchest.

_Prior_. Better still! To employ our means to obtain Heaven for the souls Of our dead enemies is worthy those Who can forgive them living.

_Sieg._ But I did not 490 Forgive this man. I loathed him to the last, As he did me. I do not love him now, But----

_Prior_. Best of all! for this is pure religion! You fain would rescue him you hate from hell-- An evangelical compassion--with Your own gold too!

_Sieg._ Father, 'tis not my gold.

_Prior_. Whose, then? You said it was no legacy.

_Sieg._ No matter whose--of this be sure, that he Who owned it never more will need it, save In that which it may purchase from your altars: 500 'Tis yours, or theirs.

_Prior_. Is there no blood upon it?

_Sieg._ No; but there's worse than blood--eternal shame!

_Prior_. Did he who owned it die in his _bed?_

_Sieg._ Alas! He did.

_Prior_. Son! you relapse into revenge, If you regret your enemy's bloodless death.

_Sieg._ His death was fathomlessly deep in blood.

_Prior_. You said he died in his bed, not battle.

_Sieg._ He Died, I scarce know--but--he was stabbed i' the dark, And now you have it--perished on his pillow By a cut-throat!--Aye!--you may look upon me! 510 _I_ am _not_ the man. I'll meet your eye on that point, As I can one day God's.

_Prior_. Nor did he die By means, or men, or instrument of yours?

_Sieg._ No! by the God who sees and strikes!

_Prior_. Nor know you Who slew him?

_Sieg._ I could only guess at _one_, And he to me a stranger, unconnected, As unemployed. 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 520 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_--aye, 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. Pray for me, Father! I have prayed myself in vain.

_Prior_. I will. Be comforted! You are innocent, and should Be calm as innocence.

_Sieg._ But calmness is not Always the attribute of innocence. I feel it is not.

_Prior_. But it will be so, 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 cloud, upon your thoughts. This were to be Too sensitive. Take comfort, and forget Such things, and leave remorse unto the guilty. [_Exeunt_.