ACT. II.
Arcade on the first story of a Romanesque palace, separated in the background by a row of columns from the court below, to which steps lead down from the middle to right and left. On the platform between them, facing the court, is a throne-chair, which later is covered with a curtain. Walks lead right and left rectangularly toward the background. On the right are several steps to the back, the principal path to the castle chapel. On the left side-wall in front is a door with a stone bench near it, and to the left of that another door. On the right in front is an iron-bound outside door. Stone benches stand between the columns. The back of the buildings surrounding the court form the background of the scene. Early morning.
Scene 1.
Sköll with his spear between his knees, asleep on a bench. Cölestin with a page holding a torch.
Cölestin. Put the link out, my son. It hangs on thy tired arm too heavily.... Yes, yes, this morning many a one thinks of his bed.... What, an alarm so early? Man and steed armed?
Sköll [in his sleep]. Brother--thy health!
Page. Look! The fellow is still drunk.
Cölestin. How else? Would, though, the filthy wretch and his Duke too with his dissolute bravery, were smoked out of the country!... Still, I am not anxious. The Pommeranian prince--there is a man of glorious renown!--may win.
Page. I fear, my lord, thou art wrong. The horses of the Pommeranian snort below. They look as though they were about to start.
Cölestin. Hast thou seen aright? The Pommeranian?
Page. Yes.
Cölestin. I feel as though the earth itself did sway, as though my poor old head would burst in pieces. Now falls the Fatherland, which, kingless, thought it might escape from rapine; yet all the while in its own breast there stood the powerfullest of robbers. Here where a continual harvest of peace once smiled, where inborn modesty of soul once paired joyously with ingrown habit and youth grew guiltless to maturity, the ruthless hand of tyranny will henceforth rest choking on our necks, and-- [Blows sound on the door to the right.] Who blusters at the door? Go look.
Page [looking through the peep-hole]. I see a spear-shaft glitter. [Calling.] What wilt thou without there?
Hans Lorbass's Voice. Open the door!
Page [calling]. Why didst thou come up the steps? The entrance is there below.
Hans Lorbass's Voice. I know that already. I did not care to sweat there in the crowd. Open the door.
Page. What shall I do?
Cölestin. I am as wrung as though the fate of the whole country hung on the iron strength of the lock.... Give him his way.
[The Page opens the door, Hans Lorbass enters.]
Cölestin. Who art thou, and what wouldst thou here? Speak!
Hans. My master, a brave knight and skilled in arms, born far in the north, where he was betrayed in feud with his stepbrother, to atone has undertaken a journey to the Holy Sepulchre. We have but just now entered your kingdom, and crave for God's love, if not a refuge, at least a resting place.
Cölestin. Thou hast done well, my friend. Every wanderer is a welcome guest in this castle, for our Queen is one from whose soul there flow deeds of boundless kindness to all the world. From to-day, alas!... nay, call thy knight, and if he stands on two such good legs as his servant, I warrant he has shivered many a spear.
Hans. And I warrant, my lord, that thou hast warranted rightly. [He goes to the door and motions below. Cölestin and the Page look out from behind him.]
Sköll [dreaming]. Hans Lorbass--seize him!
[Prince Witte enters.]
Cölestin. Here is my hand, my guest. And though thou comest here in an unhappy hour, I look within thine eye, I gaze upon thy sword, and feel as though thou hadst lifted a cruel burden from my oppressed soul.
Prince. I thank thee that thou holdest me worthy thy confidence. Yet I fear that thou art misled; it was no fate drew us together, but only chance. Thinkest thou that because I took this path I was sent to thee?
Cölestin. No, no! God forbid!--Well, unarm, my friend, ... so, so.
Hans. Whither then?
Cölestin. We have for our guests--they will show it to thee.
Prince. They crowd in early at your doors,--have I come to a festival?
Cölestin. To a ...? Stranger, there burns in me a fever of speech ... they chide the doting chatter of old men, and yet--
Prince. Thou hast chosen me for thy confidant ... I listen gladly.
Cölestin. Well then: our King, stricken with years, died and left us unprotected and afraid, for we had no guide nor saviour. The Queen, herself a child, carried trembling at her breast the babe she had borne him.... It is six years ago, and all this time have birds of prey scented the rich morsel from afar and come swooping down upon this fair land, where unmeasured riches lie. The danger grows--the people clamor for a master. And so our Queen, who had sat long sunk in modest grief, now divined in anguish her soul's call, the echo of the kingly duty, and guessed the sacrifice her land demanded. She tore in twain her widow's garlands, and made a vow that he who could bear all other suitors to her feet in battle, should be her lord and her country's king. The day has come. The lists are hung, the people crowd into the tournament. Woe to them! Their tears are doomed to fall, for all the princes who came hither have fled faint-heartedly before a single one, a man of terror, who is thus victorious without a struggle.
Prince. And this one--who is he?
[A clamor in the court below. A Noble enters.]
Noble. Sir Major-domo, I beg thee, hasten. The guard is in confusion. The people are already mounting the newly built lists in a countless throng.
Cölestin [pointing below]. Look, there is the flock; but where is the shepherd? Wait here, while I press into the thickest of the crowd and give the people a taste of my severity ... though I doubt much if it will aught avail. [He hastens down by the middle way with the Noble and the Page.]
Prince Witte. That which I long for lies not here. My sober judgment whispers warningly within my breast of delay and thoughtless dalliance. [He seats himself on a bench to the right of the stage and looks up at the sky.]
Sköll [in his sleep]. Quite right.
Hans. What's that? Eh, there, sleepy-head, wake up!
Sköll. Leave me alone! When I sleep I am happy.
Hans [startled]. What--Sköll?
Sköll. Hans Lor--
Hans. Hsh--sh!
Sköll. Well, old fellow, what wilt thou in this berth?
Hans. Thy master is here?
Sköll. Well, yes!
Hans. The devil take him! [Looking round at the Prince.] What now?
Sköll. What now? Why now, we will have a drink.
Hans. What draws you here!
Sköll. Thou knowest, thou rogue! We are the jolliest of jolly good fellows ever found at a wedding.
Hans [to himself]. Has he the strength for this redeeming act, and would it break the bonds of the madness that holds him?
[Enter a Herald from the left, behind. Then the Queen, holding the young Prince by the hand, and followed by her women. After them, Anna Goldhair.]
Herald. Way there, the Queen approaches!
Sköll [standing attention]. We cannot speak when the Queen comes by.
Hans [looking towards Prince Witte]. His soul dreams. The distance holds him spellbound.
[The Queen and her attendants approach. She stops near Prince Witte, who is not conscious of her presence, and gazes at him long.]
The Young Prince [bustling up to him]. Here, thou strange man, dost thou not know the Queen? It is the rule that when she comes we all should rise. I am the Prince, and yet I must do it too.
Prince Witte [rising and bowing]. Then beg, friend, that the Queen grant me her forgiveness.
The Young Prince. That I will gladly. [He runs back to the Queen.]
[The Queen passes on and turns again at the corner to look at Prince Witte, who has already turned his back. Then she disappears with her women into the cathedral, from which the gleam of lights and the roll of the organ come forth. The door is closed.]
Hans. Well, did she please thee? Hast thou found her worthy to awake thy idle sword to deeds of battle?
Prince. It would be no less than idleness for me to unsheathe my sword in her behalf; for my field of battle lies not here.
Hans. Then come. Thy path is hot. Thy path is broad!--Then hasten! Already far too long hast thou delayed before this tottering throne, from which an eye in speechless pleading calls for help.
Prince. At first, when my desires pointed from hence, didst thou not beg me to delay?--and now!--
Sköll [aside to Hans]. Heaven save us! Brother, who is this? I would know him a thousand miles away!
Hans [with a gesture towards Sköll, to leave him alone]. Perhaps I wished to test thee, or perhaps--
Sköll. All good spirits praise--
Prince. Whatever it was, I will go gladly.
Sköll [crossing himself]. All good spirits praise the Lord! [Bursts out through the door to the left.]
Prince. Why, who was that, that went out in such a hurry?
Hans. Who would it have been? Some body-servant about the castle, perhaps, some--
Prince. Where are my--?
Hans. Here is thy shield. Quick, take it.
Prince. Where is that ape that just now--
Hans. Let the filthy rascal go, whoever he is, and come!
[Enter Duke Widwolf. Sköll, behind him, pointing to the Prince.]
Duke. Hans Lorbass, thou shalt pay for this!
Hans. For what, my lord? Here are the very bones whereon thine eyes desired to feast themselves. It is true they are covered with flesh for the present, but they are there inside, I swear to thee.
Prince. Silence, Hans! This man stands above thy mockery; for though he stole my inheritance in despicable treachery, yet he wears the crown of my fathers, and I bow before it. And until heaven's cherubim call on me loudly to avenge the wrong, in practice for a better thing I bend before him, and grind my teeth.
[Duke bursts into a loud laugh.]
Prince. I see destruction naming in thine eyes,--thou laughest in scorn.... Laugh on. For I shall not avenge myself, nor count it my duty to shatter the fearful edifice of thy throne. So long as it will uphold thee and thy blood-blinded sword, so long be thou and thy people worthy of one another. Enough! Hans, set forth!
[Cölestin and the other nobles come up the steps.]
Duke. Behold, ye noble gentlemen! Blood of the cross, what a hero we have here! He halts here: makes a mighty clamor: naught has or ever can delay his march of triumph:--and then on a sudden he makes a short turn, breathes a deep sigh, and like the other poltroons, leaves the field to me.
Hans [aside]. Control thyself, master, all this can be borne.
Cölestin. What, stranger, art thou also of princely blood?
Prince. Whether princely or not, my blood is mine, and I myself must be the judge of what suits it. My host, I thank thee.... I would right gladly have rested here, gladly have sat down at thy hearth as a humble guest--
Cölestin. Thou earnest on the day of the tournament; and therefore thou hast come to free the Queen.
Prince. Thou callest me stranger, and will pardon me that I had heard naught of thy Queen.
Cölestin. Still thou sawest her when she and her women--
Prince. I saw her, yes.
Cölestin. And yet thou thinkest of departure? Art thou made of stone that thou hast not felt a thrust of pity like a knife, at the mere sight of that pious grace, that spring-like mildness?
Duke. Who speaks of pity, when I myself protect her with my shield? Pity?--how--wherefore? Have a care!
Cölestin. Thy threat hath no meaning today. Yet all the same I know that wert thou king, thou wouldst lay my gray head at thy feet.
Duke. Perhaps. And again perhaps, if this braggart who was sent hither and now crawls away again, did not quite take off that weak old head of thine, he would just have thee hanged, out of pure pity.
Cölestin. Thou listenest in silence to this unmeasured raving? I ask not now upon what throne thy father sat, I only ask the weakling: Art thou a man? Is this body that glows in prideful youth, only a hardly fed up paunch? Is the angry red painted upon thy brow, and yet canst thou endure and not wipe out the insult thou hast received?
Hans [aside]. Master, be stronger now than I have strength myself. I have naught to say, not I. Only say to me: "Hans, we will go"--and I will gulp down my rage; and never to the last day of my life shall a look, a word, a motion of an eye-lash, remind thee of what befell today.
Prince. Your eyes all hang in hopeful question on my broad-edged sword; and yet I may not tell you why I wear it, but must endure what ever you think. Still, know one thing; all the shame which he has heaped today upon my dulled heart I will add to the need by which he shattered my young days. I will reckon with him for those thirsting nights wherein I drank the poison of renunciation,--when my trust in mankind sank to ruin with my blood-defiled rights,--when in despair I reckoned my coming manhood by my growing beard,--when my fate became a lot of powerless shame,--and I will grope along the path where my desires once ranged themselves when the rousing voice of hope rang out of abyssmal blankness.... And thus the scorn I have received to-day glides past my closed ears like unwelcome flattery; and silently I go from hence.
[The Queen with the young Prince. Anna Goldhair and her other women come from the cathedral during the last words.]
Queen. O go not, stranger!
A Noble. Listen, the Queen!
Another. She who was never used to address a stranger.
Queen. A most unhappy woman stands before thee, and with streaming eyes casts away all the shame that modesty and rank combine to weigh her with, and prays thee: O go not! For behold! As I came to-day to God's dwelling-house full of tormenting thoughts--I saw thee on the way, thou scarce didst notice me--while I stood there before thy face longing within me that a sign might be given me, it seemed as though there flowed a something like light, like a murmuring through the spacious place, as on a festal day the sacred miracle of His presence. And a voice spoke in my heart: have faith, O woman, he came and he is thine; to thy people whose courage failed them, he shall be a hero, to thy child a father.... Then I fell thankfully upon my face. And now I beg thee: O go not!
Duke. And I tell thee, my lady Queen, he goes! I answer for it with my sword. If there is a prayer within the hero-soul of him, it runs thus: dear God, graciously be pleased to spare my reputation only as far as yonder door.
Prince. Thou liest.
Hans [whispers]. Now defend thyself. Treason to thy being's sanctuary is a half-voluntary deed.
Prince. Forgive me, Lady, if but hesitatingly I have sworn myself into thy service. Behold, I tread a half-obscured path, and the dim traces lead me into the far gray distance ... lead me--and I know not whither. I know not whether that great night which descends upon the crudest sorrow of our common day, bringing sleep to the wearied soul, will wrap me also in its folds, or whether as reward for that unquenched spirit in me that still must trust, endure, and spread its wings, the sunshine of the heights at last will smile upon me. I am Desire's unwearied son; I bear her token hidden in my breast, and till that token fades or disappears, well canst thou say: "Come die for me," but never canst thou say: "Remain."
Queen. Then never shalt thou hear that bitter word, that word so full of weakness, come from my trembling lips. The blessing of this hour that passes now shall never rise to distract thee on thy path in the gray distance. Yet there shall be a charm, rising unspoken in the soul itself, which when thou pausest wearied on thy journey, shall whisper to thee where a home still blooms for thee.... Where a balsam is prepared to heal thy wounded feet, bleeding from the sharpness of thy path ... where a thousand arms reach out to greet their loved one ... whence those voices rise that call to thee out of the darkness ... and where there waits a smile, smothered with joy, to say to thee: "I charmed thee not."--I will be silent, lest thou shouldst be weary of my speech; since all my words speak only this desire: it rings within thine ears,--longing must find a resting-place.
Prince. O, that mine lay not so far from here! There, where the clouds disperse in light, and the eternal sun kisses my brow, there ... Enough. Since thou hast asked no more than chance has in a measure forced me to, whether for good or evil I know not, I must needs grant thy wish. Hans, arm me.
Duke [whispers], Sköll, do not forget ... where are the others?
Sköll. Who knows?
Duke. But was there not a great feast to-night?
Sköll. Yes. But they flung us out just now.
Duke. Listen! And heed me well. As soon as that rascal has had enough and grovels in the dust, shout out with all thy might "Hail to King Widwolf!" Dost thou understand?
Sköll. Eh? Yes, indeed.
Anna Goldhair. Oh! dearest Lady, if I might speak I would beg thee to go. The sight of all the horrors that gather round us will shake thee sorely.
Queen. Who stays for me if I will not for him? And is it not fitting for an unhappy mother to protect the head of her child even with her own shattered arm? [To the young Prince.] Listen, my darling. Thou must go. [To Anna Goldhair.] Take him to my waiting-women. Without this sight his heart will all too soon burn with a thirst for blood.
The Young Prince. Ah, mother!
Queen. Nay, thou must. But nestle once again upon my breast, my dear one, so!
The Young Prince [running up to Prince Witte]. Please, thou strange man, be so good as to conquer for us!
Prince [smiling]. If thou art good, my Prince!... How clear their glances sparkle! From those eyes a world of sunshine bursts; alas, I am not worthy of it! [The young Prince and Anna Goldhair go out.]
[The Chancellor and a train of nobles come up the steps. After them guards and two trumpeters. The Chancellor makes obeisance and asks the Queen a question. The Queen assents silently and mounts, holding by the balustrade, to the platform on which the throne stands, pushed to one side. The Chancellor makes a sign to the trumpeters, and they blow a signal, which echoes below, then he raises the sword, which a page brings upon a cushion.]
Chancellor. Illustrious Lady, honored Queen, as chancellor of thy appointed realm, I offer thee this sword whereon to take the oath: that in thy hand, so strong because so weak, what first prevailed as thy country's law, what now prevails, and what shall prevail again when violence and lust cease to clutch after our soul's sanctuaries,--that law on which we have relied, so mild it was, because created by a free and happy fatherland--will be forever new and vigorous.
Queen. I swear it on the iron sword of my kingdom, and on the runes carved thereupon; though nature has denied it to a woman to avenge a violated oath with her own hand, yet I will never rest in my grave unless all is fulfilled that I have spoken. I swore it solemnly, and on this sword I will announce and reavow to you, that whosoever conquers in this fight may claim me for his wife when he desires.... Speak now, ye who cursed my mourning and my sorrow's backward glance: do I fulfill your will with shuddering? Do I not give ye the King ye seek?
[The nobles strike their shields with their swords in token of approval.]
Chancellor. Now to you who stand prepared to ring the throne and kingdom with the sharpness of your swords; before the land submits itself to the victor, give answer who you are!
Duke. Thou knowest me well.
Chancellor. Who knows thee not? Flames spread before thee hither like a banner, the vulture knows thee that shrieks after carrion, the auk knows thee on the blood-furrowed sea; yet custom demands, the which thou knowest not, that thou shalt name thyself at this hour.
Duke. I am the Duke of Gotland!
Hans Lorbass [highly excited, pointing to Prince Witte]. He is the Duke of Gotland! [Great disturbance and amazement.]
Cölestin. We are groping here in a black riddle.
Chancellor [to Prince Witte]. Witness thyself.
Prince Witte. If there is a man here in whom dwells a spirit of sacrifice, a worship of the right, and not of power and bloody gain, to him I speak, as to a stem of that ancient race which still springs from Gotland's gods; I boldly say: "I am." But to that vicious misbegotten wight who cringes in the dust and worships tyranny if it but prosper him, to him I say: "No, I am not."
Chancellor. A lofty mind, bred in the bitterness which deep sorrow brings, speaks in thy words and gives them weight. But yet--we know not who stands before us as the Duke of Gotland.
Duke. It seems to me, my lords, that the sword will show.
Chancellor. True enough. If the Queen will.
[The Queen bows her head in assent. The Chancellor gives a sign to the trumpeters and they blow a signal which is answered below in the court. The nobles make their obeisances to the Queen and go down the steps to the right and left.]
Hans Lorbass [meanwhile]. Remember that thrust I showed thee once: at the arm-joint where the leather is easily cut, thou canst--
Prince Witte [alarmed]. Where are the feathers?
Hans. How--what--? That witch-work to distract thee now? Here is thy sword, and there the foe! Play with him, tickle him, stroke his beard, till he weeps blood out of his mouth, till--
Prince. They are quite safe.
Hans. Master!
[Prince Witte goes last behind Duke Widwolf, with a bow to the Queen in passing. She watches him in agitation and follows him with her eyes.]
Queen. How is the Prince?
Anna Goldhair. As children always are. At first he wept and tried to slip away. Then he lay still and had his playthings brought. Now he lies sprawling under a table, playing at dice, though he understands them not.
Queen. While we go to throw upon his life.
[The Queen, Cölestin, the Chancellor, Anna Goldhair, and the other women go out. The guards draw the curtains behind the throne. The applause of the people greeting the Queen rises from the court. Then silence.]
Sköll. Well, my heart's brother, so we are alone again.
[Hans Lorbass without noticing Sköll, tries to pass the First Guard after Prince Witte.]
First Guard. Back!
[Hans tries on the other side of the curtain.]
Second Guard. Back! The passage is forbidden.
Hans. I am the Prince's servant!
Second Guard. That may all be; but hast thou not seen--
Hans. I counsel thee, take off thy hands!
Sköll [takes hold of his arm soothingly]. Come, brother of my heart, be sensible, stay in thy seat; down below there is just a mob of women, and thou wouldst be no use at all.
Hans. True enough. [The drums sound.] The third call! Now is the time!
Sköll. Now I can put my hands in my pockets and let them break each other's necks; if I only had something to drink, then--[as Hans clutches him by the arm in excitement at the first clash of swords sounding from below] Ouch! Whew! The devil, what a grip thou hast!
Hans [accompanying the movements below with dumb-show, which is accentuated by the noise of the crashing weapons]. There! That was a blow! Take that! [Alarmed.] Guard thyself! Ah, that was good! Now after him and strike!... He missed! [To Sköll, threateningly.] I thought thou didst laugh!
Sköll. What should I do?
Hans. I tell thee, thou brute beast, thou calf, thou knave, thou thief, as truly as I love thee as my brother, I will kill thee!
Sköll. Not so fierce!
Hans. There, which one of them drives the other in the corner, now? Eh?
Sköll. What?... I will stand above both sides and wait to see which one comes out ahead.
Hans. Ho, ho! How the rascal puffs! Yes, thou wilt learn to run, my fine fellow! Another blow! He struck him not! Now for thy life!--What is he thinking of? [Shrieks out.] My master bleeds!
Sköll. Ei, ei!
Hans. Wipe it off! Whisk it away! That little blood-letting but sharpens the anger, pricks the hate and--
Sköll. Look!
Hans. Now gather all thy powers together, master! And all my love for thee turn into fire and flame, that--
[Pause. Then a woman's shriek is heard, and the ringing fall of a man's body. A dull murmur of many voices follows.]
Sköll. That was a blow! [Shouting down.] Hail to King Wid--
Hans [seizes him like lightning and hurls him to the ground, then springs on the bench, waving his sword above his head and shouting.] Back from his body! You men below there, is there one that wears a sword and armor?
Voices. I!--I!--I!
Hans Lorbass. He will break through the lists with me and drive away this robber of Samland!
[Cries of rage, together with the crashing of the lists. Hans Lorbass storms upon the guards, who retreat to one side, and dashes below. The Queen comes upon the scene half unconscious, supported by Anna Goldhair and her other women. The Chancellor and other nobles. Sköll has squeezed himself behind the corner pillar on the right.]
Cölestin [turning from the Queen to a group of men who stand gazing down on the tumult below]. How goes it now?
Chancellor. That man whose summons hurled the brand of mutiny among us, look how great and small, man and woman crowd around him shouting and hustle the Duke to the door! There, he is gone!--the other left! Who was the devil?
[The uproar grows fainter and seems to lose itself in the distance.]
Cölestin. I know not whether he was a devil or an angel; for without his shriek of hate we should still be lying beneath the foot of tyranny, bleeding and weaponless as he who lies below.
[Chancellor motions to him, pointing towards the Queen, who has revived and is looking about her wildly.]
Queen. Where is the stranger? Why are you silent? I saw him fall ... did he not conquer?
A Messenger [comes hurrying up the steps]. Hail to our Queen! I bring glad tidings: the accursed Duke has fled upon a stolen horse. The people vent their long-stored spleen upon his rascally followers.
Sköll. Woe is me! Alas! [He slips behind the church door and disappears.]
Queen. And that youth who smiling received the sacrificial blow for you--think you his life so valueless that no one even remembers him as a poor reward? Why are you silent? Will no one speak?
Chancellor. We know not whether he is dead, or lives, though sorely wounded. In every thrust he far over-reckoned the reach of his sword. A more grievous trouble than this, my Lady Queen, avails to banish our rejoicing; a broken oath is here, an unatoned-for--
Cölestin. Look! What a sight!
[Hans Lorbass supports the sorely wounded Prince Witte up the steps, lets him sink upon the bench to the left, and stands before him with drawn sword, like a guard.]
Hans. Away from here! Whoever loves his life, whether man or woman, comes not too near!
Queen [approaching him]. Not even I, my friend?
Hans [embarrassed, yielding]. Thou, Lady,--yes.
Queen [takes off her veil, and wipes the blood from the face of the Prince]. Send for physicians that he may be saved.
Hans. He is saved! If he were not, I'd spring in the very face of death for him,--I would spring down death's very throat; death and I, we know each other well.
Chancellor. Thou who breathest out spume and fire as carelessly as though hell itself had brought thee forth, I ask thee who thou art, thou unclean spirit, who hast dared to raise this pious people to revolt by thy furious onslaught, and taught them to poison for themselves and the ensuing race the holy fount of justice?
Hans. And I will answer thee: I myself am that justice. I bear it on my sword's point, I carry it here beneath my cap, I pour it forth in my master's name, who gave it for his glory and his happiness. [Signs of anger.] If ye believe it not, then listen trembling to the thousand toned joy that peals from far away like spring thunder quivering in the air, and sweeps throughout the land the joyous message of deliverance: we are free!
Chancellor. Speak, O Queen! Thy soldiers wait below. Methinks this servant of the defeated one has too much confidence,--he speaks as though he were instead our lord and victor.
Queen. Let him speak! He has the right! And even were he a thousand times defeated, this man who lies before us bleeding, if he recover and seek it from me, shall be our lord and conqueror. [Great confusion and excitement.]
Prince Witte [rousing from his unconsciousness and looking about him painfully]. There lies the heron! I have wrung his neck, I snatch my prize, my salvation ... [feeling on his head and in his breast with anxious dismay] where are the feathers?
Queen. What seekest thou, dear one?
Hans. Thou seest, O Queen, he speaks in fever. Do not listen, do not heed his words.
Prince. Hans, Hans!
Hans [close by him]. Take care what thou sayest.
Prince [whispers earnestly]. I will away from here ... [with a glance at the Queen half complainingly] I must away!
Hans. When thou canst.