Countess. Max does she love! Max Piccolomini. 65
Hast thou ne'er noticed it? Nor yet my sister?

Duchess. Was it this that lay so heavy on her heart?
God's blessing on thee, my sweet child! Thou needest
Never take shame upon thee for thy choice.

Countess. This journey, if 'twere not thy aim, ascribe it 70
To thine own self. Thou shouldest have chosen another
To have attended her.

Wallenstein. And does he know it?

Countess. Yes, and he hopes to win her.

Wallenstein. Hopes to win her!
Is the boy mad?

Countess. Well—hear it from themselves.

Wallenstein. He thinks to carry off Duke Friedland's daughter! 75
[[734]] Aye?—The thought pleases me.
The young man has no grovelling spirit.

Countess. Since
Such and such constant favour you have shewn him—

Wallenstein. He chooses finally to be my heir.
And true it is, I love the youth; yea, honour him. 80
But must he therefore be my daughter's husband!
Is it daughters only? Is it only children
That we must shew our favour by?