 | Königsmark : the legend of the hounds and other poems |  |
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ACT III.
SCENE. The Garden of the Palace. Enter Königsmark.KÖNIGSMARK.
I have traced them one by one, the winding paths
Our loitering footsteps have so often trod.
How lonely seems yon walk which strays between
The lilac border and the boxwood hedge,
Though every tree hangs its pale violet blooms,
In drooping clusters, to the thievish air
That steals the perfume, and, with ingrate haste,
Forsakes its benefactor! There the path
Swerves from the sun, and plunging in the grove,
Is lost in dubious shadows. I, who stand
Under the frown of fortune, should consign
My sullen spirit to yon lowering wood:
This fair scene mocks me. Painted and unreal
Seems every flower; the swaying trees no more
Wave gentle invitations to repose;
Sternly they shake their threatening arms at me,
And whisper to themselves a tale of woe
Shaped from my future. Far above my head
The hard and steely sky encloses me
In its wide vault; and the o'erbrooding sun,
Like the high cresset in a felon's cell,
Glares in my face with its unwinking eye
Ablaze with coming vengeance. Gracious Heaven!
I merit it: 'Tis bitter, but 'tis just,
That Nature should forsake the erring man,
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Abused her bounty. Shall we never meet—
Never again? Must the last glimpse of light
Go out before me, as I stagger on,
Through the lone darkness, to my darker end?
The shadow on my way is from myself,
Turning my back against the blessed sun.
Sin and remorse have wrapped my life in gloom;
But, like a shipwrecked sailor without chart
Or guiding needle, I preferred the night
And its fair star, by which my course was steered,
To aimless daylight. Yes, this love of mine
Itself is sin—a sin that looks like virtue
Against the darker background of my crimes;
But yet a sin, an insult to her truth,
And a wide blot upon my sullied soul
Before eternal eyes.
(Enter Countess von Platen)
There is no gate,
So wide and lofty, in the walls of heaven,
As to admit the burden which I bear:
I cannot shake it off: hell yawns—
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
Yes, Count;
Hell yawns, and all the devils yawn with it,
To hear so ripe a sinner uttering
Such green morality.
KÖNIGSMARK.
What brought you here?
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
The season tempted me. These early flowers
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And so I came. But I would not intrude,
If you are waiting for some fairer flower—
A pure white lily, modest violet,
Or, better still, a passionate young rose—
A princess, all aglow with life and fire,
Carnation to the centre. As for me,
I am a homely plant, a kitchen-herb,
And dare not claim your notice. I'm for use;—
You found me useful once, to spice your dish,
When banqueting was rarer.
KÖNIGSMARK.
Wait, and see
What flower will bloom. In penetrating power
You overpeer your odorous sisterhood.
The kitchen-herb is sage.
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
Why, true,
Sage is a kitchen-herb.
KÖNIGSMARK.
You help my wit.
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
When your wit halts.
KÖNIGSMARK.
It bears me limping off. (Going.)
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
Stay, Count, a word. Our—what shall I call it?—love?
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Yes; call it love. Love is a hardy boy,
And carries more things than belong to him.
Poor Love is Passion's porter.
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
Very well:
We'll call the feeling that arose between
Your heart and mine—for want of truer name—
Love, simply love.
KÖNIGSMARK.
For want of truer name.
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
Your protest was included with my own;
But, if it ease your conscience, enter it
Once more. Or, if you wish it, every time
That I say “love,” you'd better add to it
“For want of truer name.” Well, Count, this love
Has reached the Elector's ears; and he—smile on—
Is jealous, as old men are apt to be
Who balance merits with a man like you.—
Good Heaven, Count Philip! here the Elector comes,
And with Von Platen too!
KÖNIGSMARK.
Where, Countess, where?
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
There, through the linden-walk.
KÖNIGSMARK.
Is that the Elector?
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Doubtless; and I know Von Platen by his stoop.
KÖNIGSMARK.
You gave him that. A skillful artisan
Knows his own work.
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
Count, would you ruin me?
KÖNIGSMARK.
How, Countess?
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
By your loitering.
KÖNIGSMARK.
Run away,
If you are frightened. As for me, in sooth,
I feel no terror of that ancient pair.
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
But were we seen together?
KÖNIGSMARK.
If you flee,
We'll not be seen together.
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
But were you
Found standing here, and the least glimpse of me
Caught, as I fled?—
KÖNIGSMARK.
What then?
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It would confirm
The Elector's worst suspicion. Königsmark,
You dally cruelly with the fate of one
Who gave you all. Prize or despise the gift,
It was my best, and offered for your sake.
A vestal's love, in her own eyes, could be
No more than the insulted, humbled heart
Which I bestowed upon you: 'twas my all.
Nay, then, we'll fall together. Here I'll stand,
Close by your fortunes, and divide the worst.
When this disgraceful scandal steals abroad,
Some, whose respect you hold in high esteem,
Will wonder at you—but with less respect.
KÖNIGSMARK.
True. (Aside.)
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
See, they come directly towards this spot.
KÖNIGSMARK.
Madam, command me.
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
Victory! (Aside.)
This way.
(As they exeunt, she drops Sophia's glove.)
(Enter Prince George and Count von Platen.)
PRINCE GEORGE.
This is a rendezvous. We have disturbed
A pair of billing doves. See, see, Von Platen,
How they go fluttering through the trees!
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Ha! ha!
The man is surely Königsmark. Pray, note
His stately stride behind his lady-love.
PRINCE GEORGE.
Yes; it is Königsmark. His dignity
Is no companion for his lady's fright.
I wish we'd caught them. Love has nimble eyes
For coming danger. 'Tis a pretty spot
For dalliance truly. Mark yon laurel bower,
Walled in with leaves, yet full of loop-holes, too,
And the thick hedge that circles it around:
This is Love's citadel. And here are posies—
Roses in every shape, from bud to flower,
Violets, lilies, heartsease, spicy pinks—
To say sweet things about, and furnish love
With dainty figures for his rhetoric.
'Sdeath, Count, I wonder who the lady—
(Picks up Sophia's glove.)
VON PLATEN.
Ha!
Have you found proofs? Good Heaven, your Highness, why—
Why do you glare upon that glove? Nay, Prince,
Is it a goblin?
PRINCE GEORGE.
No; 'tis but too real.
Von Platen, read that cypher.
VON PLATEN.
Wonderful!
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Vile, damnable!
VON PLATEN.
Your Highness does not think—
PRINCE GEORGE.
Think, man! I know. I do not wish to see
The thing I loathe to think on. Guilty wives
Play not their capers in the market-place:
Oh no; they come to bowers, to spots like this,
Filled with their wicked cunning, and disgrace
Fair nature and themselves at once.
VON PLATEN.
But, Prince,
The glove by chance—
PRINCE GEORGE.
The glove by fate, I say!—
'Twas fate alone that plucked it from her hand,
And left it here before my outraged eyes.
Wall guilt about with solid adamant,
And it will murmur on till some one hear;
Sink it beneath the waves, and it will rise
At the first thunder; bury it in earth,
And, at fit season, it will sprout and bear
Its bitter fruitage. Guilt, like the deaf man
That whispers to himself unconsciously,
Knows not that others hear. Against its will,
It is its own advertisement.
VON PLATEN.
Your Highness
May wrong your wife by hasty judgment.
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Ah!
If it were news, I could be merciful,
And doubt my own conclusions. But this thing
Has been the tattle of the Court for months:
Your wife has heard it,—nay, herself has seen
Such private meetings, in secluded nooks,
As this which we have interrupted. More,
But yesterday I charged my wife to hold
No further interviews with Königsmark;
She cunningly assented to my wish;
And here you have the fresh, unbroken fruit
Of her obedience. She does not take time
Even to forget my wishes, but sails on
Serenely towards her port, as though my breath
Were morning vapor.
VON PLATEN.
Surely you'll not charge
The Princess with a crime.
PRINCE GEORGE.
I make no charge:
I am in the dark with you. But what's to do
With disobedience, if it run at large?
She has discovered what a precious thing
The Elector holds her and her Zell to be;
And thus supported, with audacious front,
She sinks my fame beneath her dirty lands,
And dares me to the issue. What am I,
Against a wife and father such as these?
I tell you, I am helpless. Let her step
One foot into the daylight, show one sign
Of certain guilt, and were she lineal heir
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With her transgression!
VON PLATEN.
Patience, patience, Prince!
Doubts and suspicions are not evidence.
PRINCE GEORGE.
I prove no more than what her conduct shows.
I'll call her disobedient, nothing else;
And yet I think her hasty flight, just now,
Argues her damned, in her own eyes at least,
And gives us color for a like belief
Count Königsmark shall answer—
VON PLATEN.
Answer what?
Will you proclaim your own dishonor, Prince,
On a suspicion?
PRINCE GEORGE.
Your advice is wise.
I shall be patient to a certain point;
But after that, you'll find me deaf as death
To timid counsel, pity, or respect.
Zounds! Count, look yonder! Here Sophia comes:
For what, I pray you? Is the woman mad,
To seek my anger?
(Enter Sophia and Countess von Knesebeck.)
How now, madam, still
At your old haunts! Our talk of yesterday
Rests lightly on your memory.
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Not so;
No syllable has faded yet. Some words
Impress themselves upon the hardest heart,
By greater hardness. I have brought my friend,
The Countess Knesebeck, as body-guard
Against gallants.
PRINCE GEORGE.
Your wit is sprightly.
SOPHIA.
Yes;
Your jealous humors form so wide a butt,
That the most simple wit may strike, by chance,
An outer ring.
PRINCE GEORGE.
Von Platen, this is cool. (Aside to him.)
May I inquire what purpose brought you here?
SOPHIA.
Two purposes: the need of exercise,
And the slight hope of finding, in my walk,
A glove of Mechlin lace which I have lost.
PRINCE GEORGE.
Ah, ha! Mark that. (Aside to Von Platen.)
Is this the glove?
SOPHIA.
Yes, yes!
Oh! thank your Highness! You must not suppose
I hold this trifle higher than its worth.
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Because no woman has the match to them.
At such a reason, you, as men, may laugh,
But 'twere deep logic to a female court.
PRINCE GEORGE.
How came it here?
SOPHIA.
Why, that is strange indeed.
I thought I wore it to the masquerade.
The Countess saw it on my hand too.
COUNTESS VON KNESEBECK.
Yes;
As we were entering the ante-room.
PRINCE GEORGE.
Here is fine acting! Did you ever hear
Lies overloaded so with circumstance?
They must have practiced at a looking-glass,
Before they sallied forth to try their art
On our credulity. (Aside to Von Platen.)
SOPHIA.
Perhaps the glove
Was stolen; or found, and lost again.
COUNTESS VON KNESEBECK.
Perhaps
The robber feared detection, having heard
What stir you made about it.
PRINCE GEORGE.
Blessed saints!
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They catch the falsehood from each other's mouth,
For fear of being outstripped. (Aside to Von Platen.)
SOPHIA.
But tell me, Prince,
Where was it found?
PRINCE GEORGE.
Here.
SOPHIA.
Here! Who found it?
PRINCE GEORGE.
I.
COUNTESS VON KNESEBECK.
That is a strange—
PRINCE GEORGE.
You reckless sinner, cease!
Think me, and make me, whatsoe'er you will;
I will not be called wittol to my teeth.
SOPHIA.
Your Highness—
PRINCE GEORGE.
Shameless trickster, dare you play
Such wretched antics in the open air,
With nothing 'twixt you and the thunderbolt,
That lightly slumbers in yon murky cloud,
But heavenly mercy?
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Is your Highness sane?
PRINCE GEORGE.
Dare you deny the evidence of sense?
SOPHIA.
Yes, if God's truth oppose it.
PRINCE GEORGE.
Impudent!
Would you outface us with transparent lies,—
Set up your mere denial, to persuade
Von Platen and myself, that what we saw,
We saw not?
SOPHIA.
Pray, what saw you?
PRINCE GEORGE.
Ah!
You'll not commit yourself, until you know
The utmost limit of the adverse charge;
You will not give the slightest vantage-ground,
By one incautious word. Does this appear
Like truth, like innocence? No, no; it shows
The tricky sharpness of the advocate.
SOPHIA.
And is it contrary to human law,
That the accused, in such a cause as this,
Defend herself? I have no advocate,
Save my own wit, against an unknown charge.
This is wild justice. You yourself assume
The judge's ermine and the accuser's gown;
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Denying me the common right of speech,
Even on the scaffold.
PRINCE GEORGE.
This shall not avail.
You saw, Von Platen; you shall question her.
I'll lay aside a husband's rights and powers,
Letting my judgment stand a listener.
'Sdeath! do you think me hasty of belief
'Gainst my own honor?
SOPHIA.
'Gainst your honor, Prince!
I am your honor's guardian: I alone
Support that fiction to a doubting world.
You have done all that reckless hands could do
To blot the patent which you held from heaven;
And now you turn, with prodigal excess,
To pluck the remnant which I hold in trust—
Ah! not for you, you spendthrift of all worth,
But for our children. Let me render them
A name unsullied, on one side at least,
As their poor portion.
PRINCE GEORGE.
Hear her, Heaven!
SOPHIA.
Ay, hear!
If thou dost ever bend thy open ear
To bad men's supplications, hark to this;
And let his angry words arise, transformed
To something holy by a mother's prayer!
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Bold hypocrite! Von Platen, to your work!
VON PLATEN.
I pray your Highness—
PRINCE GEORGE.
I will have it so.
VON PLATEN.
Am I commanded?
PRINCE GEORGE.
On your loyalty.
VON PLATEN.
Believe me, Princess, 'tis a loathful task.
SOPHIA.
I shall believe you as I find you, sir;—
But be not backward.
VON PLATEN.
These then are the facts:
His Highness and myself came walking hither,
Absorbed in conversation. As we turned
From yonder linden-alley towards this bower,
We saw two figures stealing from our sight,
As if to shun us. One was Königsmark;
We knew him by the boldness of his gait
And by his lordly person. She who ran
Before the Count, bending her body down,
As if to screen herself by her companion,
We could not recognize. I'll say no more;
But here we found your glove.
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Dry, almost warm—
No trace of dew upon a thread of it;—
And yet 'tis early morning. I'll be sworn,
That glove lay not upon the watery grass
Since yester-eve—no, not one hour.
SOPHIA.
I think
The lady dropped it.
PRINCE GEORGE.
What?
SOPHIA.
And yet, I say,
That lady was not I.
PRINCE GEORGE.
Oh! marvelous!
COUNTESS VON KNESEBECK.
How so, your Highness? What the Princess lost,
Another one may find, and lose again.
PRINCE GEORGE.
I'll credit anything—put faith in dreams,
In conjurors, in wantons—ere I shake
In this conviction.
SOPHIA.
But are you quite sure
The man was Königsmark?
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Of that one fact
There is no doubt.
SOPHIA.
I'm sorry.
PRINCE GEORGE.
Keep your grief
For your own use. This feignéd innocence—
I'll not deny you have the trick of it,
To rival nature—does not hoodwink me.
SOPHIA.
Your Highness doubts me!
PRINCE GEORGE.
Doubt you! should I not?
Would one, corrupt in everything besides,
Shrink from or stammer at a spoken lie?
SOPHIA.
Gross man, the indignation which I feel
Should find a tongue; but I will calm myself
Down to the level of a patient wife.
I know my duty; and I further know
The scoff and spurn of the whole universe
Can never make me other than I am,
As spotless as the heaven that wraps me round.
Hear me, Prince George! I'll put my pride to sleep,
And answer you straightforward to the point:
As Heaven's my witness, I have nowhere seen
Count Königsmark to-day!
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And let me join
My lady's full avowal with my voice.
Since she arose I have not left her side;
And, as I hope for mercy on my sins,
Her words are solemn truth!
VON PLATEN.
Where were you then
A half hour since, and in whose company?
Your whereabout is capable of proof,
I doubt not, Princess.
SOPHIA.
Silence, insolent!
Your Countship is mistaken; it would seem,
From questions such as these, that you suppose
You are inquiring of the character
Borne by your own pure, excellent, dear wife.
'Twere unbecoming to my station, Count,
To bandy questions and replies with you.
I shall remember I'm of princely rank;
Forget not your condition. If the Prince
Would humble me with questions, let him ask;
I shall reply as meekly as I can.
You heard my broad assertion of my truth,
And I repeat it to you. Do you think
That your good wife would venture such an oath,
Were you to try her?
PRINCE GEORGE.
Madam, you are pert.
Answer the question.
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Half an hour ago
I was shut up within the nursery,
At play among my children. There, indeed,
I am secluded. No one comes to them,
Save those whose duties bring them sourly in—
Not even their father.
PRINCE GEORGE.
After that?
SOPHIA.
I sewed
Upon a sampler, in my private room.—
Mark, where I pricked my finger, Prince.
PRINCE GEORGE.
What next?
SOPHIA.
My robe was changed, my walking-shoes put on,—
Ay, and my hair was dressed. Pray, bend your head,
And you may scent the fresh pomatum.
PRINCE GEORGE.
Then?
SOPHIA.
I put my mantle round me, drew my hood
Over my forehead, to avoid the sun,
And by so many steps as I can stride
Between this place and yonder palace-door,
Came here right onward. By the way I coughed,
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Here are the flowers; and then—
PRINCE GEORGE.
You jest with us.
SOPHIA.
Where could a jest come in with better grace?
PRINCE GEORGE.
Then you have not seen Königsmark?
SOPHIA.
You heard
My solemn oath to that, twice registered,
For your conviction; and you also heard,
If you had doubts, the needless perjury
With which the Countess followed up my words.
I have spoken truly, as a lady may;
If you would have me answer as a felon,
You must arraign me in another court.
PRINCE GEORGE.
Your story seems like truth.
SOPHIA.
Seems, only seems!
Naught but defect of mind can make it false.
Go to the nursery, call in my maids,
Torture my helpless children till they speak,
Stretch my French hair-dresser upon the rack,
Propose some awful and tremendous form
Of affirmation to the Countess here,
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If you would push this business to an end:
Only deal not with Philip Königsmark
In your grand inquisition, if you're wise;
For, let me say, his proud soul would not speak
Upon compulsion, if the deviltry
Of all the Holy Office held itself
Obedient to your nod.
PRINCE GEORGE.
Your eloquence
Grows great again upon your favorite theme.
Your foolish and intemperate admiration
Betrays in spirit what it lacks in fact.
Give you and him the devil's golden gift,
Bare opportunity, and I will back
Temptation against virtue, ten to one.
SOPHIA.
Wanton insulter! would you drive me on
To desperation? Would you make me false?
Oh! were not virtue centred in herself,
Both law and solace to the tempted heart—
Dwelling, like God, amid her own pure light,
And needing nothing more beyond herself—
Self-nurtured, self-rewarded, self-sustained—
Heaven knows what fancies outrage and revenge
Might have begotten in my troubled soul
Long, long ere this! I pray you, pause a while:
I am but human, and my misery
May mount above control.
PRINCE GEORGE.
Fine verbiage this!
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In Heaven's name, leave me, Prince!
PRINCE GEORGE.
I shall, unasked.
My stay belies my wish, and flatters you.
When you are strolling in this place again,
Be careful of your gloves. Von Platen, come!
[Exit with Von Platen.
SOPHIA.
I am resolved. This is not want of love,
Such as indifference may calmly bear,
Nor mere disgust, nor common tyranny,—
'Tis gross, malignant hatred.
COUNTESS VON KNESEBECK.
Such as fiends
May feel for angels, better than themselves—
A hungry, thirsty and insatiate hate
That gnaws itself, unless its victim's blood
Redden its ruthless fangs. I'll say no more:
Throw prudence to the wind, and act your will.
I'd rather flee for refuge to the wolves,
Than live in splendor so unhappily.
Fly to Duke Anthony. I'll aid your plans,
And share your flight.
SOPHIA.
My tried and steadfast friend,
You still forget the care you owe yourself,
In your regard for me. Count Königsmark
Designs a visit to Duke Anthony
This very night, returning ere the dawn,
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Touching the answer that will come to me.
Duke Anthony would peril all his worth,
To do the house of Hanover some turn
To set it groaning. I shall rest secure
In his protection; for he'd wear his sword,
Down to the hilt, in his defence of me,
So that our enemies may only be
The best of Hanover. Ah, faithful heart,
Your eyes are glittering with joyful tears
At thought of my escape.
COUNTESS VON KNESEBECK.
Not only that;
The safe asylum, the untroubled rest,
After these storms have blown their fury out,
Would draw this tribute from less loving eyes
That look upon your fortunes.
(Re-enter Königsmark, behind.)
SOPHIA.
Nay, you wrong
Your deep affection, by supposing it
A wide and common feeling. Hanover
Is broad and populous, my heart is soft,
And open, as the flowers before the sun,
To warming friendship; yet I still must say
That, when I came here, I brought all my friends:
I have found none, not one, for all my need.
You and—
KÖNIGSMARK.
And Philip Königsmark, you'll say,
If you deal fairly with that humble man.
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What, after all your warnings given to me,
About our dangerous meetings, are you first
To break your resolution? Königsmark,
There's a pervading weakness in your mind
That, some time, will undo you. Look to that.
KÖNIGSMARK.
There's a pervading weakness in my heart
That strengthens me in action, and preserves
The little good my sinful nature holds.
Of that I am proud. I stood, observing you,
As exiled Adam by his garden's gate,
Gazing in grief at its forbidden joys.
I saw the cherub wave his flaming sword,
I knew that my rebellion was a sin;
But the old love was stronger than my fear—
It grew imperious—it mastered me;
I dashed aside the angel's lifted brand,
And here I stand, unwounded!
SOPHIA.
And in Eden?
KÖNIGSMARK.
Close by the tree of life.
SOPHIA.
Bold flatterer!
Countess, he talks this nonsense by the day,—
He ever talked it. You must not suppose
The man as empty as his words imply.
He has good metal in his character,
If you dig deep enough.
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Thus have I been
Game for this lady from my earliest day.
She chased me round the garden, and stuck burrs
In my long hair, when we were both at Zell;
But then I always laughed at her wild hunts,
As I do now.
SOPHIA.
Beseech you, Countess, hark!
Lest there be aught that's treason to the Prince
In our discourse. Here is a specimen
Of that bad intercourse on which my lord
Is pleased to found his jealousy. Ah, me!
Philip, they say you are a naughty boy;
In proof of which, who was your lady-love,
This morning, in the garden?
KÖNIGSMARK.
Countess Platen;
But keep it quiet; for the Countess says
That the Elector has distinguished me
By his august and gracious jealousy,
Through dearth of higher favors. It may be;
But I half doubt it.
SOPHIA.
It may be!
KÖNIGSMARK.
Nay, nay;
It might have been.
SOPHIA.
Indeed? But let that go:
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Blaming this action, praising that.
KÖNIGSMARK.
Oh! yes;
I'll thank you for the thought you waste on me.
I ill deserve the goodness of your blame;
Your praise would dizzy me. But do not think
That the least figment of what you call love
E'er passed between us. There was dazzling fence
Of wit, of spurious passion, skill and craft,
Betwixt us veteran sworders; but the foils
Wore buttons, and the conflict was all play,
We both knew well, though fighting with such heat
That the spectators thought us serious.
SOPHIA.
They say you won.
KÖNIGSMARK.
I know but this; I won,
As the grand issue, her eternal hate.
SOPHIA.
How did you meet?
KÖNIGSMARK.
By accident, she said.
SOPHIA.
It cost me dearly.
KÖNIGSMARK.
You?
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His Highness saw
You and the Countess fleeing from this spot,
And in the grass he found a glove of mine,
And drew his own conclusions.
KÖNIGSMARK.
But the glove,
How came it here?
SOPHIA.
I lost it yesterday;
The Countess found it; and in hastening hence,
In her confusion, dropped it.
KÖNIGSMARK.
In her craft.
This trap was laid and set to tangle you:
I see it all; and now I can account
For her strange conduct. Part by part, I take
This dainty mechanism of her brain
To pieces; and throughout I see her hand
As plain, as in the petals of this rose,
Whose combination forms the perfect flower,
I witness Nature. Lest I judge amiss,
The thorn convinces sharply. I shall blow
Her blooming prospects to the winds of heaven!
SOPHIA.
They'll not believe you. I have been refused
Credit upon my oath. A criminal's
Stoutest denial is no proof at law;
Confession only is received from him.
But I have suffered so much by my trial,
95
To Cousin Anthony may shelter me
From the impending doom.
KÖNIGSMARK.
Hist! hist!
(Re-enter Countess von Platen.)
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
Good-day,
Fair Princess,—and to you, sweet Count! I see
The rose has bloomed at last. (Apart to him.)
SOPHIA.
You're welcome, Countess.
Philip and I were wrangling. I maintained
The bread and milk my mother made in Zell
Was better than the wine of Hanover—
The fiery wine you rouse your sins withal—
Better, because more innocent, But he
Has spoiled his palate with your biting drink,
And argues otherwise. You'll make report
Of this grave matter to the Prince, no doubt.
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
I am no gossip.
SOPHIA.
Not without a cause.
Know you this glove?
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
I've seen it on your hand.
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Where did you find it!
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
I! I found it not.
KÖNIGSMARK.
Where did you drop it, Countess?
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
Bless my wits!
I am besieged with questions. Gentle folks,
I came not hither to be catechised;
Nor am I skilled in tracing stolen goods
By conjuration.
KÖNIGSMARK.
Parried well! In faith,
Equivocation is as good as truth,
When simple ears are listening.
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
Königsmark,
You may be sorry for your brutal jokes
At one, whose only fault has been regard
For your coarse, worthless self. As for your Highness,
Your lot in life is, I suppose, above
Our mortal sufferings; like the gods of old,
Nectar's your drink, ambrosia your food,
And every change of sun and moon and star,
But shows a new phase of your happiness.
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Oh! I could weep for pity, at the part
You choose to play in my sad history.
COUNTESS VON PLATEN.
In truth, your judgment errs. Your own belief
Makes enemies of persons who would think
'Twere almost sacrilege to wish you ill.
Count Königsmark comes nearer to my rank,
And so I scold him, with a playful wrath,
For his misdeeds. I love you both indeed,
More than your hearts seem willing to permit.
You doubt it? Try me; that is all I ask
For your conviction.
KÖNIGSMARK.
Countess, mark this ring,
A clear-set cameo. On the under side,
You see how smooth the polished surface lies,
How veined with graceful lines, how exquisite!
But hold it thus, against God's piercing light,
And fierce Medusa's head comes staring through—
Each hair a serpent, awful as the scowl
O'er which it writhes. In ancient days, they say,
This dreadful visage turned a man to stone;
But now Medusa combs her serpents down
To wanton ringlets, smooths her threatening brow,
Smiles with her mouth, looks coyly with her eyes,
And woos the incautious mortal to her side.
Believe her not; for at some dismal hour
She'll reassume her terrors, and transform
The trusting fool to marble. Let us walk
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Holding our hearts as steady as we can,
Lest on the way our brimming love should spill,
And scorch the helpless flowers on either side.
[Exeunt.
| Königsmark : the legend of the hounds and other poems | |