Queen [takes off her veil, and wipes the blood from the face of the Prince]. Send for physicians that he may be saved.
Hans. He is saved! If he were not, I'd spring in the very face of death for him,--I would spring down death's very throat; death and I, we know each other well.
Chancellor. Thou who breathest out spume and fire as carelessly as though hell itself had brought thee forth, I ask thee who thou art, thou unclean spirit, who hast dared to raise this pious people to revolt by thy furious onslaught, and taught them to poison for themselves and the ensuing race the holy fount of justice?
Hans. And I will answer thee: I myself am that justice. I bear it on my sword's point, I carry it here beneath my cap, I pour it forth in my master's name, who gave it for his glory and his happiness. [Signs of anger.] If ye believe it not, then listen trembling to the thousand toned joy that peals from far away like spring thunder quivering in the air, and sweeps throughout the land the joyous message of deliverance: we are free!
Chancellor. Speak, O Queen! Thy soldiers wait below. Methinks this servant of the defeated one has too much confidence,--he speaks as though he were instead our lord and victor.
Queen. Let him speak! He has the right! And even were he a thousand times defeated, this man who lies before us bleeding, if he recover and seek it from me, shall be our lord and conqueror. [Great confusion and excitement.]
Prince Witte [rousing from his unconsciousness and looking about him painfully]. There lies the heron! I have wrung his neck, I snatch my prize, my salvation ... [feeling on his head and in his breast with anxious dismay] where are the feathers?
Queen. What seekest thou, dear one?
Hans. Thou seest, O Queen, he speaks in fever. Do not listen, do not heed his words.
Prince. Hans, Hans!