King. What now?
Cölestin. My Prince, my little Prince!
King. Well?
Cölestin. Nay, with her thou canst have no concern. Thou knowest to whom thy mother sent thee, and what she graved so deep upon thy heart.
The Young Prince [timidly approaching the King]. My mother called me very early, and bid me come to thee before my breakfast with Uncle Cölestin, and kneel down here before thee, and ask thee--something,--I forget.
Cölestin. Then, my lord, according to the measure of my wisdom I must speak here for this child, who in his innocence cannot comprehend how basely thou hast forsaken thy people. I must embolden myself to speak a last warning to thee. I speak not of the sins that now already weigh thee down: eternal God shall judge them, for thou mayst not sin and not atone. But even now thy spirit, corroded with rancorous spite, hast turned the edge of our ancestral sword against thy honor and thy manhood. Lo, there it glistens in thy burning grasp; and to that all-avenging sword I make my prayer: to the arm where still resides our safety: to the eyes from which looks out an unquenched thirst of fighting: that thou wilt lead to victory thy broken people, who surround the tower and call upon thee in their need.
King. The sword that I unthinking raised--led thereto by occasion only--I will lay down still clean. Thou callest it the all-avenging; and it shall win that praise itself. Let the foe mow you down in sheaves, it shall be naught to me,--it comes too late.
Cölestin. Good! Though thou so hatest thy people--
King. I hate ye not.
Cölestin. As to appease thy long-cherished revenge by scornful laughter in their hour of need, yet one thing I shall never think, sir King,--that thou wilt yield without a struggle, and give up thy weaponless body to the slaughter.