Scene II
Enter, slowly, people in evident distress. Officers, Sarnem, Gesler, Tell, Albert, and soldiers, one bearing Tell’s bow and quiver, another with a basket of apples.
Ges. That is your ground. Now shall they measure thence
A hundred paces. Take the distance.
Tell. Is the line a true one?
Ges. True or not, what is’t to thee?
Tell. What is’t to me? A little thing,
A very little thing—a yard or two
Is nothing here or there—were it a wolf
I shot at. Never mind.
Ges. Be thankful, slave,
Our grace accords thee life on any terms.
Tell. I will be thankful, Gesler. Villain, stop!
You measure to the sun!
Ges. And what of that?
What matter whether to or from the sun?
Tell. I’d have it at my back—the sun should shine
Upon the mark, and not on him that shoots.
I cannot see to shoot against the sun;
I will not shoot against the sun!
Ges. Give him his way. Thou hast cause to bless my mercy.
Tell. I shall remember it. I’d like to see
The apple I’m to shoot at.
Ges. Stay! show me the basket—there—
Tell. You’ve picked the smallest one.
Ges. I know I have.
Tell. Oh! do you? But you see
The color on’t is dark.—I’d have it light,
To see it better.
Ges. Take it as it is;
Thy skill will be the greater if thou hit’st it.
Tell. True—true! I did not think of that—I wonder
I did not think of that. Give me some chance
To save my boy! (Throws away the apple.)
I will not murder him,
If I can help it—for the honor of
The form thou wearest, if all the heart is gone.
Ges. Well, choose thyself.
Tell. Have I a friend among the lookers-on?
Verner. (Rushing forward.) Here, Tell!
Tell. I thank thee, Verner!
He is a friend runs out into a storm
To shake a hand with us. I must be brief:
When once the bow is bent, we cannot take
The shot too soon. Verner, whatever be
The issue of this hour, the common cause
Must not stand still. Let not to-morrow’s sun
Set on the tyrant’s banner! Verner! Verner!
The boy! the boy! Thinkest thou he hath the courage
To stand it?
Ver. Yes.
Tell. How looks he?
Ver. Clear and smilingly;
If you doubt it, look yourself.
Tell. No—no—my friend;
To hear it is enough.
Ver. He bears himself so much above his years.
Tell. I know! I know!
Ver. With constancy so modest—
Tell. I was sure he would.
Ver. And looks with such relying love
And reverence upon you.
Tell. Man! man! man!
No more. Already I’m too much the father
To act the man. Verner, no more, my friend.
I would be flint—flint—flint. Don’t make me feel
I’m not. Do not mind me. Take the boy
And set him, Verner, with his back to me.
Set him upon his knees—and place this apple
Upon his head, so that the stem may front me,—
Thus, Verner; charge him to keep steady—tell him
I’ll hit the apple. Verner, do all this
More briefly than I tell it thee.
Ver. Come, Albert. (Leading him out.)
Alb. May I not speak with him before I go?
Ver. You must not.
Alb. I must! I cannot go from him without.
Ver. It is his will you should.
Alb. His will, is it?
I am content, then—come.
Tell. My boy! (Holding out his arms to him.)
Alb. My father! (Rushing into Tell’s arms.)
Tell. If thou canst bear it, should not I? Go, now,
My son—and keep in mind that I can shoot—
Go, boy—be thou but steady, I will hit
The apple. Go! God bless thee—go. My bow!— (The bow is handed to him.)
Thou wilt not fail thy master, wilt thou? Thou
Hast never failed him yet, old servant. No,
I’m sure of thee. I know thy honesty.
Thou art stanch—stanch. Let me see my quiver.
Ges. Give him a single arrow.
Sol. I do.
Tell. Is it so you pick an arrow, friend?
The point, you see, is bent; the feather jagged.
(Breaks it.) That’s all the use ’tis fit for.
Ges. Let him have another.
Tell. Why, ’tis better than the first,
But yet not good enough for such an aim
As I’m to take—’tis heavy in the shaft;
I’ll not shoot with it! (Throws it away.) Let me see my quiver.
Bring it! ’Tis not one arrow in a dozen
I’d take to shoot with at a dove, much less
A dove like that.
Ges. It matters not.
Show him the quiver.
Tell. See if the boy is ready. (Tell here hides an arrow under his vest.)
Ver. He is.
Tell. I’m ready, too! Keep silent for
Heaven’s sake and do not stir—and let me have
Your prayers—your prayers—and be my witnesses
That if his life’s in peril from my hand,
’Tis only for the chance of saving it. (To the people.)
Ges. Go on.
O friends, for mercy’s sake, keep motionless
And silent.
(Tell shoots; a shout of exultation bursts from the crowd. Tell’s head drops on his bosom; he with difficulty supports himself upon his bow.)
Ver. (Rushing in with Albert.) Thy boy is safe, no
hair of him is touched.
Alb. Father, I’m safe! Your Albert’s safe, dear father,—
Speak to me! Speak to me!
Ver. He cannot, boy.
Alb. You grant him life?
Ges. I do.
Alb. And we are free?
Ges. You are. (Crossing angrily behind.)
Ver. Open his vest
And give him air.
(Albert opens his father’s vest, and the arrow drops. Tell starts, fixes his eye upon Albert, and clasps him to his breast.)
Tell. My boy! my boy!
Ges. For what
Hid you that arrow in your breast? Speak, slave!
Tell. To kill thee, tyrant, had I slain my boy!
—Sheridan Knowles.