Countess. Should'st thou depart this night, and we at waking
Never more find thee!

Wallenstein. Fancies!

Countess. O my soul
Has long been weighed down by these dark forebodings. 80
And if I combat and repel them waking,
They still rush down upon my heart in dreams,
I saw thee yesternight with thy first wife
Sit at a banquet gorgeously attired.

[[797]]Wallenstein. This was a dream of favourable omen, 85
That marriage being the founder of my fortunes.

Countess. To-day I dreamt that I was seeking thee
In thy own chamber. As I entered, lo!
It was no more a chamber; the Chartreuse
At Gitschin 'twas, which thou thyself hast founded, 90
And where it is thy will that thou should'st be
Interred.

Wallenstein. Thy soul is busy with these thoughts.

Countess. What dost thou not believe that oft in dreams
A voice of warning speaks prophetic to us?

Wallenstein. There is no doubt that there exist such voices. [95]
Yet I would not call them
Voices of warning that announce to us
Only the inevitable. As the sun,
Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image
In the atmosphere, so often do the spirits 100
Of great events stride on before the events,
And in to-day already walks to-morrow.
That which we read of the fourth Henry's death
Did ever vex and haunt me like a tale
Of my own future destiny. The King 105
Felt in his breast the phantom of the knife,
Long ere Ravaillac arm'd himself therewith.
His quiet mind forsook him: the phantasma
Started him in his Louvre, chased him forth
Into the open air: like funeral knells [110]
Sounded that coronation festival;
And still with boding sense he heard the tread
Of those feet that ev'n then were seeking him
Throughout the streets of Paris.

Countess. And to thee
The voice within thy soul bodes nothing?

Wallenstein. Nothing. 115
Be wholly tranquil.