Countess. He must not lay the sword aside, we mean;
He must unsheath it in your father's cause.

Thekla. He'll spend with gladness and alacrity
His life, his heart's blood in my father's cause, 40
If shame or injury be intended him.

Countess. You will not understand me. Well, hear then!
Your father has fallen off from the Emperor,
And is about to join the enemy
With the whole soldiery—

Thekla. Alas, my mother! 45

Countess. There needs a great example to draw on
The army after him. The Piccolomini
Possess the love and reverence of the troops;
They govern all opinions, and wherever
They lead the way, none hesitate to follow. 50
The son secures the father to our interests—
You've much in your hands at this moment.

Thekla. Ah,
My miserable mother! what a death-stroke
Awaits thee!—No! She never will survive it.

Countess. She will accommodate her soul to that 55
Which is and must be. I do know your mother.
The far-off future weights upon her heart
With torture of anxiety; but is it
Unalterably, actually present,
She soon resigns herself, and bears it calmly. 60

Thekla. O my fore-boding bosom! Even now,
E'en now 'tis here, that icy hand of horror!
And my young hope lies shuddering in its grasp;
I knew it well—no sooner had I entered,
A heavy ominous presentiment 65
Revealed to me, that spirits of death were hovering
Over my happy fortune. But why think I
First of myself? My mother! O my mother!

[[729]]Countess. Calm yourself! Break not out in vain lamenting!
Preserve you for your father the firm friend, [70]
And for yourself the lover, all will yet
Prove good and fortunate.

Thekla. Prove good? What good?
Must we not part? Part ne'er to meet again?