Octavio. I go to Frauenberg—the Pappenheimers
I leave thee here, the Lothrings too; Toskana 80
And Tiefenbach remain here to protect thee.
They love thee, and are faithful to their oath,
And will far rather fall in gallant contest
Than leave their rightful leader, and their honour.
Max. Rely on this, I either leave my life 85
In the struggle, or conduct them out of Pilsen.
Octavio. Farewell, my son!
Max. Farewell!
Octavio. How? not one look
Of filial love? No grasp of the hand at parting?
It is a bloody war, to which we are going,
And the event uncertain and in darkness. 90
So used we not to part—it was not so!
Is it then true? I have a son no longer?
[Max falls into his arms, they hold each [other] for a long time in a speechless embrace, then go away at different sides.
The Curtain drops.
LINENOTES:
Before [1] (Max enters almost in a state of derangement from extreme agitation, his eyes roll wildly, his walk is unsteady, and he appears not to observe his father, who stands at a distance, and gazes at him with a countenance expressive of compassion. He paces with long strides through the chamber, then stands still again, and at last throws himself into a chair, staring vacantly at the object directly before him). 1800, 1828, 1829.