Queen. Where is the stranger? Why are you silent? I saw him fall ... did he not conquer?
A Messenger [comes hurrying up the steps]. Hail to our Queen! I bring glad tidings: the accursed Duke has fled upon a stolen horse. The people vent their long-stored spleen upon his rascally followers.
Sköll. Woe is me! Alas! [He slips behind the church door and disappears.]
Queen. And that youth who smiling received the sacrificial blow for you--think you his life so valueless that no one even remembers him as a poor reward? Why are you silent? Will no one speak?
Chancellor. We know not whether he is dead, or lives, though sorely wounded. In every thrust he far over-reckoned the reach of his sword. A more grievous trouble than this, my Lady Queen, avails to banish our rejoicing; a broken oath is here, an unatoned-for--
Cölestin. Look! What a sight!
[Hans Lorbass supports the sorely wounded Prince Witte up the steps, lets him sink upon the bench to the left, and stands before him with drawn sword, like a guard.]
Hans. Away from here! Whoever loves his life, whether man or woman, comes not too near!
Queen [approaching him]. Not even I, my friend?
Hans [embarrassed, yielding]. Thou, Lady,--yes.