No

ray

has broken from him on this point. You have o'er-ruled me, and yourself know best,

How far you dare proceed.

Coun.

I take it on me.

[Talking to herself, while she is advancing. Here's no need of full powers and commissions— My cloudy Duke! we understand each other— And without words. What, could I not unriddle, Wherefore the daughter should be sent for hither, Why first he, and no other, should be chosen To fetch her hither? This sham of betrothing her To a bridegroom,* whom no one knows-No! no!

This may blind others! I see through thee, Brother!

But it beseems thee not, to draw a card

At such a game. Not yet!-It all remains
Mutely delivered up to my finessing

Well-thou shalt not have been deceived, Duke
Friedland!

In her who is thy sister.

Servant [enters.]

The commanders!

Ter. [to the Countess.] Take care you heat his fancy and affections

Possess him with a reverie, and send him,

* In Germany, after honourable addresses have been paid and formally accepted, the lovers are called Bride and Bridegroom, even though the marriage should not take place till years afterwards.

Absent and dreaming, to the banquet; that
He may not boggle at the signature.

Coun. Take you care of your guests!—Go, send him hither.

Ter. All rests upon his undersigning.

Coun. [interrupting him.] Go to your guests! Go

Illo. [comes back.] Where art staying, Tertsky? The house is full, and all expecting you.

Ter. Instantly! Instantly! [To the COUNTESS.] And let him not

Stay here too long. It might awake suspicion In the old man

Coun.

A truce with your precautions! [Exeunt TERTSKY and ILLO.

SCENE III.-COUNTESS, MAX PICCOLOMINI.

Max. [peeping in on the stage, slily.] Aunt Tertsky, may I venture?

[Advances to the middle of the stage, and looks around him

with uneasiness.

Where is she?

Coun.

She's not here!

Look but somewhat narrowly

There lie her gloves!

In yonder corner, lest perhaps she lie

Concealed behind that screen.

Мах.

[Snatches at them, but the COUNTESS takes them herself.

You unkind lady! You refuse me this-
You make it an amusement to torment me.

Coun. And this the thanks you give me for my trouble?

Max. O, if you felt the oppression at my heart!

Since we've been here, so to constrain myselfWith such poor stealth to hazard words and glances

These, these are not my habits!

You have still

Coun.
Many new habits to acquire, young friend!
But on this proof of your obedient temper
I must continue to insist; and only
On this condition can I play the agent
For your concerns.

Max.

Where is she?

Coun.

But wherefore comes she not?

Into my hands you must place it

Whole and entire. Whom could you find, indeed, More zealously affected to your interest?

No soul on earth must know it-not your father. He must not above all.

Max.

Alas! what danger?
Here is no face on which I might concentre
All the enraptured soul stirs up within me.
O lady! tell me. Is all changed around me?
Or is it only I?

I find myself

As among strangers! Not a trace is left

Of all my former wishes, former joys.

Where has it vanished to? There was a time

When even, methought, with such a world as this I was not discontented. Now how flat!

How stale! No life, no bloom, no flavour in it!
My comrades are intolerable to me.

My father-Even to him I can say nothing.
My arms, my military duties—O!

They are such wearying toys!

Coun.

But, gentle friend! I must entreat it of your condescension, You would be pleased to sink your eye, and favour With one short glance or two this poor stale world Where even now much, and of much moment, Is on the eve of its completion.

Мах.

Something,

I can't but know, is going forward round me.
I see it gathering, crowding, driving on,
In wild uncustomary movements. Well,
In due time, doubtless, it will reach even me.
Where think you I have been, dear lady? Nay,
No raillery. The turmoil of the camp,
The spring-tide of acquaintance rolling in,
The pointless jest, the empty conversation,
Oppressed and stifled me. I gasped for air-
I could not breathe-I was constrained to fly,
To seek a silence out for my full heart;
And a pure spot wherein to feel my happiness.
No smiling, Countess! In the church was I.
There is a cloister here to the* Heaven's Gate,

*I am doubtful whether this be the dedication of the cloister or the name of one of the city gates, near which it stood.

Thither I went, there found myself alone.
Over the altar hung a Holy Mother;

A wretched painting 'twas, yet 'twas the friend
That I was seeking in this moment. Ah,
How oft have I beheld that glorious form
In splendour, 'mid ecstatic worshippers,
Yet, still it moved me not! and now at once
Was my devotion cloudless as my love.

Coun. Enjoy your fortune and felicity!

Forget the world around you. Meantime, friendship

Shall keep strict vigils for you, anxious, active.
Only be manageable when that friendship
Points you the road to full accomplishment.
How long may it be since you declared your
passion?

Max. This morning did I hazard the first word. Coun. This morning the first time in twenty days?

Max. 'Twas at that hunting-castle, betwixt here
And Nepomuck, where you had joined us, and—
That was the last relay of the whole journey!
In a balcony we were standing mute,

And gazing out upon the dreary field:
Before us the dragoons were riding onward,
The safe-guard which the Duke had sent us-

heavy

I have translated it in the former sense; but fearful of having made some blunder, I add the original.—Es ist ein Kloster hier, zur Himmelspforte.