Countess. Look but somewhat narrowly
In yonder corner, lest perhaps she lie
Conceal'd behind that screen.

Max. There lie her gloves![642:1]
[Snatches at them, but the Countess takes them herself.
You unkind Lady! You refuse me this— [5]
You make it an amusement 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— 10
These, these are not my habits!

Countess. You have still
Many new habits to acquire, young friend!
[[643]] But on this proof of your obedient temper
I must continue to insist; and only
On this condition can I play the agent [15]
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. [20]
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, 25
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! 30
How stale! No life, no bloom, no flavour 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! 35
I must entreat it of your condescension,
You would be pleased to sink your eye, and favour
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, 40
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, 45
No raillery. The turmoil of the camp,
The spring-tide of acquaintance rolling in,
The pointless jest, the empty conversation,
[[644]] Oppress'd and stifled me. I gasped for air—
I could not breathe—I was constrain'd to fly, 50
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,[644:1]
Thither I went, there found myself alone. 55
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 splendour, mid ecstatic worshippers; 60
Yet, still it moved me not! and now at once
Was my devotion cloudless as my love.