Pensive. Will it not please you to pass on?

STRALENHEIM.

'Tis past fatigue which gives my weigh'd-down spirit An outward show of thought. I will to rest.

IDENSTEIN.

The prince's chamber is prepared, with all
The very furniture the prince used when
Last here, in its full splendour.

(Aside.) Somewhat tatter'd
And devilish damp, but fine enough by torch-light;
And that's enough for your right noble blood
Of twenty quarterings upon a hatchment;
So let their bearer sleep 'neath something like one
Now, as he one day will for ever lie.

STRALENHEIM (rising and turning to GABOR, Good night, good people! Sir, I trust to-morrow Will find me apter to requite your service. In the mean time, I crave your company A moment in my chamber.

STRALENHEIM.

That there were two.

(After a few steps, pauses, and calls WERNER).

Sir?

WERNER.

IDENSTEIN.

Sir! Lord!-oh, Lord! Why don't you say
His lordship, or his excellency? Pray,
My lord, excuse this poor man's want of breeding:
He hath not been accustom'd to admission
To such a presence.

STRALENHEIM (to IDENSTEIN).
Peace, intendant!

I am dumb.

Have

Till

That hour arrives, I can but offer thanks, And then

GABOR.

I seek no more, and scarce deserve So much. My comrade may speak for himself.

STRALENHEIM

(Fixing his eyes upon WERNER, then aside). It cannot be! and yet he must be look'd to. 'Tis twenty years since I beheld him with These eyes; and, though my agents still have kept Theirs on him, policy has held aloof My own from his, not to alarm him into Suspicion of my plan. Why did I leave

At Hamburgh those who would have made assurance
If this be he or no? I thought, ere now,

To have been lord of Siegendorf, and parted
In haste, though even the elements appear
To fight against me, and this sudden flood
May keep me prisoner here till-

[He pauses and looks at WERNER; then resumes.
This man must

Be watch'd. If it is he, he is so changed,
His father, rising from his grave again,
Would pass him by unknown. I must be wary;
An error would spoil all.

IDENSTEIN.

Oh!

STRALENHEIM (to WERNER). you been long here?

Your lordship seems

But one way that the rich and poor must tread

IDENSTEIN.

WERNER (solus).

"T is he! I'm taken in the toils. Before
I quitted Hamburgh, Giulio, his late steward,
Inform'd me, that he had obtain❜d an order
From Brandenburgh's elector, for the arrest
Of Kruitzner (such the name I then bore), when
I came upon the frontier; the free city
Alone preserved my freedom-till I left

Its walls-fool that I was to quit them! But
I deem'd this humble garb, and route obscure,
Had baffled the slow hounds in their pursuit.
What's to be done? He knows me not by person;
Nor could aught, save the eye of apprehension,
Have recognised him, after twenty years,
We met so rarely and so coldly in

Our youth. But those about him! Now I can
Divine the franless of the Hungarian, who,
No doubt, is a mere tool and spy of Stralenheim's
Jo sound and to secure me. Without means!
Sick, poor-begirt too with the flooding rivers,
Impassable even to the wealthy, with

All the appliances which purchase modes

Of overpowering peril with men's lives,

IDENSTEIN.

Before

An hour is past, I'll do my best to serve him.

Remember!

FRITZ.

IDENSTEIN.

[Exit FRITZ.

The devil take these great men! they Think all things made for them. Now here must I Rouse up some half a dozen shivering vassals From their scant pallets, and, at peril of Their lives, despatch them o'er the river towards Frankfort. Methinks the baron's own experience Some hours ago might teach him fellow-feeling: But no, "it must," and there's an end. How now?

Now I am master of myself at least.
Hark!-footsteps! How do I know that Stralenheim
Will wait for even the show of that authority
Which is to overshadow usurpation?
That he suspects me's certain. I'm alone;
He with a numerous train. I weak; he strong

In gold, in numbers, rank, authority.
I nameless, or involving in my name
Destruction, till I reach my own domain;
He full-blown with his titles, which impose
Still further on these obscure petty burghers
Than they could do elsewhere. Hark! nearer still!
I'll to the secret passage, which communicates
With the No! all is silent-'t was my fancy!—
Still as the breathless interval between

The flash and thunder :-I must hush my soul
Amidst its perils. Yet I will retire,
To see if still be unexplored the passage
I wot of: it will serve me as a den

Of secrecy for some hours, at the worst.
[WERNER draws a panel, and exit, closing it
after him.

Enter GABOR and JOSEPHINE.

[Exit, driving them ou

JOSEPHINE (coming forward).

I fain would shun these scenes, too oft repeated,

Of feudal tyranny o'er petty victims ;

I cannot aid, and will not witness such.
Even here, in this remote, unnamed, dull spot,
The dimmest in the district's map, exist
The insolence of wealth in poverty

O'er something poorer still-the pride of rank

In servitude, o'er something still more servile;
And vice in misery, affecting still

A tatter'd splendour. What a state of being!
In Tuscany, my own dear sunny land,
Our nobles were but citizens and merchants,
Like Cosmo. We had evils, but not such
As these; and our all-ripe and gushing valleys
Made poverty more cheerful, where each herb
Was in itself a meal, and every vine

Rain'd, as it were, the beverage which makes glad
The heart of man; and the ne'er unfelt sun
(But rarely clouded, and when clouded, leaving
His warmth behind in memory of his beams)
Makes the worn mantle, and the thin robe, less
Oppressive than an emperor's jewell'd purple.
But, here! the despots of the north appear
To imitate the ice-wind of their clime,
Searching the shivering vassal through his rags,
To wring his soul-as the bleak elements

His form. And 't is to be amongst these sovereigns
My husband pants! and such his pride of birth-
That twenty years of usage, such as no
Father, born in an humble state, could nerve
His soul to persecute a son withal,
Hath changed no atom of his early nature;
But I, born nobly also, from my father's
Kindness was taught a different lesson. Father!
May thy long-tried and now rewarded spirit
Look down on us, and our so long-desired
Ulric! I love my son, as thou didst me!
What's that? Thou, Werner! can it be: and thus!
Enter WERNER hastily, with the knife in his hand, by
the secret panel, which he closes hurriedly after him.
WERNER (not at first recognising her).
Discover'd! then I'll stab- -(recognising her).
Ah! Josephine,

Why art thou not at rest?

WERNER.

Away-we must to our chamber.

JOSEPHINE.

Suspect! all people

FRITZ.

Without-within-above-below-Heaven help me '

Is there no other entrance to the chamber?

None whatever.

IDENSTEIN.

FRITZ.

Are you sure of that?

IDENSTEIN.

But whence com'st thou?

WERNER.

Ask not! but let us think where we shall goThis-this will make us way. (showing the gold)— I'll fit them now.

JOSEPHINE.

I dare not think thee guilty of dishonour.

WERNER.

Dishonour!

JOSEPHINE.

I have said it.

WERNER.

Let us hence:

Tis the last night, I trust, that we need pass here.

JOSEPHINE.

and not the worst, I hope.

FRITZ.

Then it must be some one who Had access to the antechamber.

IDENSTEIN.

Doubtless.

FRITZ.

The man call'd Werner's poor!

IDENSTEIN.

Poor as a miser,

But lodged so far off, in the other wing,
By which there's no communication with
The baron's chamber, that it can't be he:
Besides, I bade him "good night" in the hall,
Almost a mile off, and which only leads
To his own apartment, about the same time
When this burglarious, larcenous felony
Appears to have been committed.