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.

Countess. And another time
I hastened after thee, and thou ran'st from me
Through a long suite, through many a spacious hall,
There seemed no end of it: doors creaked and clapped;
I followed panting, but could not o'ertake thee; 120
When on a sudden did I feel myself
Grasped from behind—the hand was cold that grasped me—
'Twas thou, and thou did'st kiss me, and there seemed
[[798]] A crimson covering to envelop us.

Wallenstein. That is the crimson tapestry of my chamber. 125

Countess (gazing on him). If it should come to that—if I should see thee,
Who standest now before me in the fulness
Of life— [She falls on his breast and weeps.

Wallenstein. The Emperor's proclamation weighs upon thee—
Alphabets wound not—and he finds no hands. [130]

Countess. If he should find them, my resolve is taken—
I bear about me my support and refuge. [Exit Countess.