Scene IV.
—A Garden.
Enter Werner.
Wer.
I could not sleep—and now the hour's at hand!
All's ready. Idenstein has kept his word;
And stationed in the outskirts of the town,
Upon the forest's edge, the vehicle
Awaits us. Now the dwindling stars begin
To pale in heaven; and for the last time I
Look on these horrible walls. Oh! never, never
Shall I forget them. Here I came most poor,
But not dishonoured: and I leave them with
A stain,—if not upon my name, yet in
My heart!—a never-dying canker-worm,
Which all the coming splendour of the lands,
And rights, and sovereignty of Siegendorf
Can scarcely lull a moment. I must find
Some means of restitution, which would ease
My soul in part: but how, without discovery?—
It must be done, however; and I'll pause
Upon the method the first hour of safety.
The madness of my misery led to this
Base infamy; repentance must retrieve it:
I will have nought of Stralenheim's upon
My spirit, though he would grasp all of mine;
Lands, freedom, life,—and yet he sleeps as soundly
Perhaps, as infancy, with gorgeous curtains
Spread for his canopy, o'er silken pillows,
Such as when—Hark! what noise is that? Again!
The branches shake; and some loose stones have fallen
From yonder terrace.
[Ulricleaps down from the terrace.
Ulric! ever welcome!
Thrice welcome now! this filial—
Ulr.
Stop! before
We approach, tell me—
Wer.
Why look you so?
Ulr.
Do I
Behold my father, or—
Wer.
What?
Ulr.
An assassin?
Wer.
Insane or insolent!
Ulr.
Reply, sir, as
You prize your life, or mine!
Wer.
To what must I
Answer?
Ulr.
Are you or are you not the assassin
Of Stralenheim?
Wer.
I never was as yet
The murderer of any man. What mean you?
Ulr.
Did not you this night (as the night before)
Retrace the secret passage? Did you not
Again revisit Stralenheim's chamber? and—
[Ulric pauses.
Wer.
Proceed.
Ulr.
Died he not by your hand?
Wer.
Great God!
Ulr.
You are innocent, then! my father 's innocent!
Embrace me! Yes,—your tone—your look—yes, yes,—
Yet say so.
Wer.
If I e'er, in heart or mind,
Conceived deliberately such a thought,
But rather strove to trample back to hell
Such thoughts—if e'er they glared a moment through
The irritation of my oppressed spirit—
May Heaven be shut for ever from my hopes,
As from mine eyes!
Ulr.
But Stralenheim is dead.
Wer.
'Tis horrible! 'tis hideous, as 'tis hateful!—
But what have I to do with this?
Ulr.
No bolt
Is forced; no violence can be detected,
Save on his body. Part of his own household
Have been alarmed; but as the Intendant is
Absent, I took upon myself the care
Of mustering the police. His chamber has,
Past doubt, been entered secretly. Excuse me,
If nature—
Wer.
Oh, my boy! what unknown woes
Of dark fatality, like clouds, are gathering
Above our house!
Ulr.
My father! I acquit you!
But will the world do so? will even the judge,
If—but you must away this instant.
Wer.
No!
I'll face it. Who shall dare suspect me?
Ulr.
Yet
You had no guests—no visitors—no life
Breathing around you, save my mother's?
Wer.
Ah!
The Hungarian?
Ulr.
He is gone! he disappeared
Ere sunset.
Wer.
No; I hid him in that very
Concealed and fatal gallery.
Ulr.
There I'll find him.
[Ulric is going.
Wer.
It is too late: he had left the palace ere
I quitted it. I found the secret panel
Open, and the doors which lead from that hall
Which masks it: I but thought he had snatched the silent
And favourable moment to escape
The myrmidons of Idenstein, who were
Dogging him yester-even.
Ulr.
You reclosed
The panel?
Wer.
Yes; and not without reproach
(And inner trembling for the avoided peril)
At his dull heedlessness, in leaving thus
His shelterer's asylum to the risk
Of a discovery.
Ulr.
You are sure you closed it?
Wer.
Certain.
Ulr.
That 's well; but had been better, if
You ne'er had turned it to a den for—
[He pauses.
Wer.
Thieves!
Thou wouldst say: I must bear it, and deserve it;
But not—
Ulr.
No, father; do not speak of this:
This is no hour to think of petty crimes,
But to prevent the consequence of great ones.
Why would you shelter this man?
Wer.
Could I shun it?
A man pursued by my chief foe; disgraced
For my own crime: a victim to my safety,
Imploring a few hours' concealment from
The very wretch who was the cause he needed
Such refuge. Had he been a wolf, I could not
Have in such circumstances thrust him forth.
Ulr.
And like the wolf he hath repaid you. But
It is too late to ponder thus:—you must
Set out ere dawn. I will remain here to
Trace the murderer, if 'tis possible.
Wer.
But this my sudden flight will give the Moloch
Suspicion: two new victims in the lieu
Of one, if I remain. The fled Hungarian,
Who seems the culprit, and—
Ulr.
Who seems? Who else
Can be so?
Wer.
Not I, though just now you doubted—
You, my son!—doubted—
Ulr.
And do you doubt of him
The fugitive?
Wer.
Boy! since I fell into
The abyss of crime (though not of such crime), I,
Having seen the innocent oppressed for me,
May doubt even of the guilty's guilt. Your heart
Is free, and quick with virtuous wrath to accuse
Appearances; and views a criminal
In Innocence's shadow, it may be,
Because 'tis dusky.
Ulr.
And if I do so,
What will mankind, who know you not, or knew
But to oppress? You must not stand the hazard.
Away!—I'll make all easy. Idenstein
Will for his own sake and his jewel's hold
His peace—he also is a partner in
Your flight—moreover—
Wer.
Fly! and leave my name
Linked with the Hungarian's, or, preferred as poorest,
To bear the brand of bloodshed?
Ulr.
Pshaw! leave any thing
Except our fathers' sovereignty and castles,
For which you have so long panted, and in vain!
What name? You have no name, since that you bear
Is feigned.
Wer.
Most true: but still I would not have it
Engraved in crimson in men's memories,
Though in this most obscure abode of men—
Besides, the search—
Ulr.
I will provide against
Aught that can touch you. No one knows you here
As heir of Siegendorf: if Idenstein
Suspects, 'tis but suspicion, and he is
A fool: his folly shall have such employment,
Too, that the unknown Werner shall give way
To nearer thoughts of self. The laws (if e'er
Laws reached this village) are all in abeyance
With the late general war of thirty years,
Or crushed, or rising slowly from the dust,
To which the march of armies trampled them.
Stralenheim, although noble, is unheeded
Here, save as such—without lands, influence,
Save what hath perished with him. Few prolong
A week beyond their funeral rites their sway
O'er men, unless by relatives, whose interest
Is roused: such is not here the case; he died
Alone, unknown,—a solitary grave,
Obscure as his deserts, without a scutcheon,
Is all he'll have, or wants. If I discover
The assassin, 'twill be well—if not, believe me,
None else; though all the full-fed train of menials
May howl above his ashes (as they did
Around him in his danger on the Oder),
Will no more stir a finger now than then.
Hence! hence! I must not hear your answer.—Look!
The stars are almost faded, and the grey
Begins to grizzle the black hair of night.
You shall not answer:—Pardon me that I
Am peremptory: 'tis your son that speaks,
Your long-lost, late-found son.—Let 's call my mother!
Softly and swiftly step, and leave the rest
To me: I'll answer for the event as far
As regards you, and that is the chief point,
As my first duty, which shall be observed.
We'll meet in Castle Siegendorf—once more
Our banners shall be glorious! Think of that
Alone, and leave all other thoughts to me,
Whose youth may better battle with them—Hence!
And may your age be happy!—I will kiss
My mother once more, then Heaven's speed be with you!
Wer.
This counsel 's safe—but is it honourable?
Ulr.
To save a father is a child's chief honour.
[Exeunt.
