Laska. No nearer, pray! consider! [115]
If it should prove his ghost, the touch would freeze me
To a tombstone. No nearer!

Bethlen. The fool is drunk!

Laska. Well now! I love a brave man to my heart.
I myself braved the monster, and would fain
Have saved the false one from the fate she tempted. [120]

Old Bathory. You, Laska?

Bethlen (to Bathory). Mark! Heaven grant it may be so!
Glycine?

Laska. She! I traced her by the voice.
You'll scarce believe me, when I say I heard
The close of a song: the poor wretch had been singing:
As if she wished to compliment the war-wolf [125]
At once with music and a meal!

Bethlen (to Bathory). Mark that!

Laska. At the next moment I beheld her running,
Wringing her hands with, 'Bethlen! O poor Bethlen!'
I almost fear, the sudden noise I made,
[[930]] Rushing impetuous through the brake, alarmed her. 130
She stopt, then mad with fear, turned round and ran
Into the monster's gripe. One piteous scream
I heard. There was no second—I—

Bethlen. Stop there!
We'll spare your modesty! Who dares not honour
Laska's brave tongue, and high heroic fancy? 135

Laska. You too, Sir Knight, have come back safe and sound!
You played the hero at a cautious distance!
Or was it that you sent the poor girl forward
To stay the monster's stomach? Dainties quickly
Pall on the taste and cloy the appetite! 140