The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 162

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ILLO (comes back).

Where art staying, Terzky?

The house is full, and all expecting you.

TERZKY.

Instantly! instantly!

[To the COUNTESS.

And let him not Stay here too long. It might awake suspicion In the old man----

COUNTESS.

A truce with your precautions!

[Exeunt TERZKY and ILLO.

SCENE III.

COUNTESS, MAX. PICCOLOMINI.

MAX. (peeping in on the stage slyly).

Aunt Terzky! may I venture?

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

She's not here!

Where is she?

COUNTESS.

Look but somewhat narrowly In yonder corner, lest perhaps she lie Concealed behind that screen.

MAX.

There lie her gloves!

[s.n.a.t.c.hes at them, but the COUNTESS takes them herself.

You unkind lady! You refuse me this, You make it an amus.e.m.e.nt to torment me.

COUNTESS.

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 myself With such poor stealth to hazard words and glances.

These, these are not my habits!

COUNTESS.

You have still 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.

But wherefore comes she not?

Where is she?

COUNTESS.

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 flavor 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!

COUNTESS.

But gentle friend!

I must entreat it of your condescension, You would be pleased to sink your eye, and favor 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.

MAX.

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," [10]

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 splendor, 'mid ecstatic wors.h.i.+ppers; Yet, still it moved me not! and now at once Was my devotion cloudless as my love.

COUNTESS.

Enjoy your fortune and felicity!

Forget the world around you. Meantime, friends.h.i.+p Shall keep strict vigils for you, anxious, active.

Only be manageable when that friends.h.i.+p Points you the road to full accomplishment.

MAX.

But where abides she then? Oh, golden time Of travel, when each morning sun united And but the coming night divided us; Then ran no sand, then struck no hour for us, And time, in our excess of happiness, Seemed on its course eternal to stand still.

Oh, he hath fallen from out his heaven of bliss Who can descend to count the changing hours, No clock strikes ever for the happy!

COUNTESS.

How long is it since you declared your pa.s.sion?

MAX.

This morning did I hazard the first word.

COUNTESS.

This morning the first time in twenty days?

The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 162

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The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 162 summary

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