THEKLA.
Oh! my mother!
NEUBRUNN.
So much as she has suffered too already;
Your tender mother. Ah! how ill prepared
For this last anguish!
THEKLA.
Woe is me! My mother!
[Pauses.
Go instantly.
NEUBRUNN.
But think what you are doing!
THEKLA.
What can be thought, already has been thought.
NEUBRUNN.
And being there, what purpose you to do?
THEKLA.
There a divinity will prompt my soul.
NEUBRUNN.
Your heart, dear lady, is disquieted!
And this is not the way that leads to quiet.
THEKLA.
To a deep quiet, such as he has found,
It draws me on, I know not what to name it,
Resistless does it draw me to his grave.
There will my heart be eased, my tears will flow.
Oh hasten, make no further questioning!
There is no rest for me till I have left
These walls—they fall in on me—a dim power
Drives me from hence—oh mercy! What a feeling!
What pale and hollow forms are those! They fill,
They crowd the place! I have no longer room here!
Mercy! Still more! More still! The hideous swarm,
They press on me; they chase me from these walls—
Those hollow, bodiless forms of living men!
NEUBRUNN.
You frighten me so, lady, that no longer
I dare stay here myself. I go and call
Rosenberg instantly.