University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Hall, with tables prepared for supper.
Netherstein and Rachel.
RACHEL.
Set seats for five: but when the guests are placed,
Prithee keep out of sight awhile.

NETHERSTEIN.
How long?
Were keeping out of sight my business here,
I might have spared the Saltsberg belt and hose
'Till All Saints eve or wake at Martinmas.
Places should have respect to use and fitness.
If so, and eating be the end of feasts,
Mine would stand highest of all.

RACHEL.
The Count is sick.

NETHERSTEIN.
Let him keep out of sight, and me eat for him.

RACHEL.
My lady could not answer when I spake.
Her kinsman's death hangs heavily; and yet
She will sit down. Catherine is nobly born,
So takes her place: till asked for, I stand by.

NETHERSTEIN.
Art less than she is?

RACHEL.
Now—in honor, I am:
In nature, more.

NETHERSTEIN.
But which of these is greatest?
My sour yeast spoils our batch.

RACHEL.
Look, thou dost carve:
'Till called keep back, I say; then show thyself.
The roast will stand at bottom—I shall ask it.

NETHERSTEIN.
Catherine goes with them home?

RACHEL.
She does to-morrow.
We two are bidden for Christmas. One thing grieves me.

NETHERSTEIN.
If only one, forget it, or defy it.

RACHEL.
I fain had supped the Baron ere his end,
And counted three great nobles at the board.

NETHERSTEIN.
This trout has slipped thine handling.

RACHEL.
Go and shift.
Look that the knives be steeled, then fill the flasks.
We serve at eight o'clock:—bid Tauss be ready—
The fawn is roasted whole and needs two bearers.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Chamber.
Count and Otho.
COUNT.
Rowed the boat whither?

OTHO.
Down the stream, my lord.
Their search is for the drowned.

COUNT.
Who told thee so?

OTHO.
They said themselves it would be so.

COUNT.
Why quit them?
The sun is set—we risk our secret thus!
I strive to think the knave who shot so near me,
Aimed well by chance alone. But this is folly!
Why let them go?

OTHO.
The Countess held me here
Till these were past the haling to.

COUNT.
Straight down?

OTHO.
Not in midstream, but nearest this side yet.
Our eyes may scarcely reach them in the dusk.

COUNT.
Why should they choose the twilight for their search?
Thou canst not cross with them to-night?

OTHO.
I will.
The moon is past the full—at nine she rises—
They shall be taught that all must cross at dawn;
And why to-night we seek a landing-place.

COUNT.
Make them search upwards—then run thou below.
Swift, boy, not hasty—lest the work be botched.
Throw the sword wide enough, and sink the corpse.

OTHO.
My thrice-repeated lesson is but short:
I shall be perfect. We have most to fear
From such quick questioning as the Ferryman's.

COUNT.
I cannot be excused at supper-time:
The Countess wills it so to please her hosts.
All must sit down, she says.

OTHO.
Must I?

COUNT.
And these!
We play the prodigals—the swine feed with us.
Our troughs are served at eight.

OTHO.
The moon is later.
Even if the boat were ready, she is not:
Nor can we do without her.

COUNT.
Hark! the clock!
[Clock strikes.
Come this way till they call.

[Exeunt Count and Otho.
(Enter Countess and Catherine.)
COUNTESS.
The boat is gone?
And none within it but the ferrymen?
If so—the better!—Almost eight o'clock?

CATHERINE.
The bell jars still—not hear it?

COUNTESS.
Why dost look
So thoughtfully upon me, gentle Kate?
Let us be merry, if we can, to-night—
Both never will again. What grieves thee, child?

CATHERINE.
'Twere better go to sleep!

COUNTESS.
Without our supper?

CATHERINE.
Leave it for healthier appetites. In truth
I never saw a face so pale alive!
Those eyes affright me.

COUNTESS.
Quarrel with mine eyes?

CATHERINE.
They look like gleeds of fire upon the snow!
My lady drops the answers to her questions;
Then stoops, like echo, for a word or two!
Not hear the clock?

COUNTESS.
Thine eyes are gentler, Kate.
I pray thee do not leave me, though I fright thee!
I would be loved by some one that is good.

CATHERINE.
Let us prepare for bed.

COUNTESS.
No!—supper first.
A cup of wine to bring my colour back.—
We will have such a supper here to-night,
As may be talked of after I am gone.
Canst love me, sister Kate, indeed?

CATHERINE.
Methought
I loved before, yet find it was but little—
Nor could I love the happy half so much.

COUNTESS.
Then shalt thou profit by my teaching, child.
Our homily so late as yesterday,
Was pride—the scorn of baseness—gentle blood:
To-night I give the sequel.

CATHERINE.
Hark!—they call.

COUNTESS.
Supper at last.

CATHERINE.
You tremble!

COUNTESS.
Stop awhile—

CATHERINE.
I pray sit down.

COUNTESS.
At table—so I will.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Moonlight. Bank of the Danube. The ferry-boat with the figure of a man in it. Tycho landing from it.
TYCHO.
Let one eye watch the boat, and one the moon.
Thou great Astrologer, a word with thee!
Sit starkly by the tiller there, and say
Whether I die a bachelor, or no?
My fortune, sir?—I can tell thine aright—
The worms shall eat thee—by to-morrow's noon,
The chapel-bell shall ring for thee. What sayst—
Which of the two is wisest, Colen or I?—
He fears no man alive, whose breath is in him:
And I no dead one, be it fairly out.
But thou hast lost thine foully—Heaven forgive thee!
This iron-jointed Colen wept just now
To see me pluck the sword from 'twixt thy shoulders:—
He turned his face, and sobbed as doth a child!
He loaths to touch thee!

Enter Ferryman.
FERRYMAN.
Where hast left the corpse?

TYCHO.
He sits abaft as steersman, there. Boat! ferry!
Shove off!—be quick, boy!—would that Blast were crossing!
A cuff or two might warm this helmsman's ears,
And grieve him less than me.

FERRYMAN.
Hast got the cloak?

TYCHO.
Cloak, hat, and both the swords, sir. Turns about!
I had my load down hill the other side:
If one of us must bear him up to supper—
Take thou thy spell, as strongest.

FERRYMAN.
Give the swords—
I cannot tarry now—we are too late—
The guests have supped: so cast a sail around him,
And come with me—make haste!

TYCHO.
Didst get inside?

FERRYMAN.
No—not beyond the door, but near enough.
Give me his hat and cloak, with both the swords.
I will wear one of them—run after me—
But place a covering o'er the body first.

TYCHO.
He and the moon are eyeing one another,
Which of the two looks palest! Let them be.

FERRYMAN.
Throw a sail over!

TYCHO.
Softly—patience—so!

(Tycho covers the corpse.)
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Hall. The table covered with fruits, and wine-flasks. Count, Countess, Otho, Netherstein, Rachel, and Catherine seated. Servants of the house and of the Countess attending.
RACHEL
to servants.
The service ends, sirs, now that grace is said.
To help our meat we have but fruits as scanty:
These we may reach ourselves. Set other cups,
And flasks of sweeter wine, before ye go,
Then leave us, if my lady need you not.

COUNTESS.
Stay yet—let Gregory wait.

COUNT.
We shall be shamed
When Christmas brings our hosts to Schwannenstadt,
Remembering how we banquet here. It is
A feast for Charlemagne's peers!

NETHERSTEIN.
Ay, marry, is it;
And all the emperors since, if each had been
No larger stomached than my lord and lady.

COUNT.
We hope for better health, and lighter crosses.
Bear lamps up stairs before the Countess, Ralph.
Sleep is our best and safest nourisher.
We must be roused at day-break—so farewell!
Look out for pleasant weather, boy. The moon
[To Otho.
Is high by this time. Half-past nine o'clock!
She rose at half-past eight.

COUNTESS.
Stop first a little;
And tell your kinsman what you say he is.

COUNT.
What does he say I am?

COUNTESS.
Coward, traitor, murderer!

COUNT.
A murderer! (They all rise.)


COUNTESS.
So he says—a double one.

COUNT.
Whom does he say I murdered?

COUNTESS.
Both my cousins:
The first by fraud, long since, and many hands:
The other by thine own—behind his back—
So late as yesterday.

COUNT.
Did Otho say it?

OTHO.
I did say so, and say it again, my lord.

COUNT.
Traitor and liar!

COUNTESS.
Sit down—let both sit still!
The time is not for brawls—nor shall we stun
So many ears by braggart cries and threats.
His words are plain enough—canst answer them?
He calls thee murderer; tells us who is slain;
Time, place, and motive to the act.

COUNT.
Your cousins?

COUNTESS.
The youngest first, through me—lied out of life—
Though slain in battle murdered by his friend!
The elder yesterday.

OTHO.
He told me so—
Cowardly murdered!

COUNT.
Some one lend a sword.
And let him say so then.

OTHO.
My lord's is pledged—
We must release it from this cousin's back!
Come with me, miller—I will find and bring it.

(Netherstein leaves his seat, and places himself between the Count and Otho.)
NETHERSTEIN.
This must be answered if the man is dead.
Behind his back!

COUNT.
I answer to my prince.
Arrest the traitor, Gregory Drinkinton!
Menno, lay hold!

COUNTESS.
These are my servants, sir.
Count Altheim has none here. They shall do so,
And seize the traitor, be he which he may.

COUNT.
How! Gertrude!

COUNTESS.
Ay, the same—who will live yet
Where honour keeps the roof above her head;
Or pull its pillars down to cover shame,
And die with all beneath it. Gertrude is
No heiress of the murdered, nor the wife
Of him who stabs men's backs. Why call for weapons?
You can disprove his words, if false. He says
The Baron's body lies within a a mile.

OTHO.
I do, and that Count Altheim's sword is in it:
The Baron's in its sheath. Send whom ye will:
I have been taught to guide them straight enough.
One is a traitor.

COUNTESS.
If but one is such—
No more than one—the Count is innocent.
This kinsman, picked from out some lazar-house,
Says that he loves his wife! Traitor confessed,
A liar it may be.

Enter Tycho, followed by the Ferryman, whose face is shaded with a plumed cap, and muffled in a cloak. He carries a naked sword in his hand, and places himself in the seat left by Netherstein.
TYCHO.
Melchior, stand aside.
A lord they left behind is come to-night:
The lord of Rabensberg!

COUNTESS.
My cousin? alive!

OTHO.
The lord of Rabensberg!

FERRYMAN,
discovering himself.
I am such now:
Your younger cousin, John of Rabensberg,
Succeeds his brother in the barony—
I was the Ferryman.

RACHEL.
Look! here again!
Out, dog's-face! get thee gone, thou morris fool!
Wouldst bring thy rogueries here, 'twixt life and death?
With sword in hand, and plume upon thine head?
Out with him, Melchior! drag him out of doors!

FERRYMAN.
Be patient, mother-in-law! There be some here—
The Count and Countess—will remember me.
She, when she speaks again, may tell thee so.
My cap and cloak were left me by my brother:
The sword beside me is inherited:
This other was the Count's.

TYCHO.
Done bravely, faith!
Rarely! as breath is life! The Count and Countess
Do look upon him for a lord indeed!
I have seen many a show come short of this.
He passes Punch a league and all to windward!
The moon herself is dazzled by him! hark!

FERRYMAN.
I claim scarce half of what is mine, Count Altheim:
Only my name and honour. That is lost
Which outweighs both. But on my brother's behalf—
Whose blood it was which cried so loud last night—
I ask for justice too. Is this sword yours?

[Gives it to the Count.
OTHO.
He saves my journey—was it through the back?

COUNT.
No matter, if it reach the heart, which passage—
This time it goes the other way.

[He stabs Otho, and exit.
NETHERSTEIN.
Hold! hold!

FERRYMAN.
His kinsman, his confederate!

NETHERSTEIN.
Help me, Gregory!
The sword went through him!

FERRYMAN.
Melchior, bring him back—
Take the sword from him, Tycho!

NETHERSTEIN.
Here are weapons—
Run, Bernard—get behind—run warily!

FERRYMAN.
Murder for pastime!

NETHERSTEIN.
Help us to the couch.

RACHEL.
The chamber here within, sirs—hold his head!

NETHERSTEIN.
His very breath is bloody—lift him gently.

[Exeunt.
(The Countess and Ferryman remain.)
FERRYMAN.
Gertrude, I bring thee misery yet again!
I said those lips would curse me. What I do
Is ruin to thee, but it must be done.
I have no choice. Awake, and look upon me!
I was content to die from all remembrance—
Trusting my honor with forgetfulness—
Rather than live and grieve thee. Both deceived,
Let both forgive. I could not hide this murder!

COUNTESS
rises, and comes forward.
And wherefore shouldst thou hide it? what afflicts thee?
Thou didst not come the first to bring down ruin—
'Twas I proclaimed the murder and the murderer.
Thank Heaven for that! the guilty fall together,
And by each other—I the chief of them:—
The cruel, the credulous!
(Enter Catherine.)
Come hither, child:
Why dost thou tremble at my kinsman thus?

CATHERINE.
I dare not stay within to see him die!

COUNTESS.
I neither fear nor wonder—scarce discern,
Amongst so many changes, life from death.
The one we looked for yesterday is lost—
The lost these seven years—he who fell by daylight—
The registered as slain—the praised and mourned for—
Is with us here!

FERRYMAN.
This should teach hope to both.

COUNTESS.
I hoped—no matter now what else I did!
Proud hopes are seldom prosperous—never long.
There is a sister left me—gentler, wiser—
Though falsely, let me think she is my gift—
That so, at last, I make a large amends—
Let me bestow her—her portion equals thine—
(She gives him the hand of Catherine.)
The half of Rabensberg.

FERRYMAN,
Make her a gift—
A happy gift—and not a legacy.
Be sister to us both, for wanting this
The rest were bare as winter. See, she kneels!
(Catherine kneels.)
Gertrude has power to make her cousin happy—
But never if she part from him again.
Behold, it is a promise! lead her hence.
I have her hand and thine.— (Exeunt Countess and Catherine.)


(Enter Netherstein and Rachel.)
NETHERSTEIN.
The youth is dead!
This shall be taxed and answered. Why didst lend
The sword to such a butchery? Lord of what?

RACHEL.
Who else is killed, didst say? My lady's brother?

FERRYMAN.
My brother and her cousin.

RACHEL.
Thou her brother?
Why shouldst thou kill her cousin, knave?—Who art thou?

FERRYMAN.
The Baron Rabensberg.

NETHERSTEIN.
Colen a Baron!

(Enter Tycho and Servants.)
TYCHO.
Thou shouldst have cast thy coxcomb off and helped.
The Count is gone.

FERRYMAN.
Which way?

TYCHO.
To court, or that way—
Eastward, Vienna-ward—down stream at bottom,
And haply bottom upwards.

RACHEL.
Hush! art mad?

TYCHO.
Why not? the rest are so—Count, Countess, Colen.
Why lift thy brows, in such a sort, above thee—
And magnify thyself against me thus?

FERRYMAN.
He is not drowned?

TYCHO.
Then try thy luck again—
See what canst do by diving?

RACHEL.
Sirrah, hush!

TYCHO.
Speak! speak!—hush! hush!—I will row leisurely.
My lord was hard to catch, and ill to hold—
His sword swung round about, like Godfrey's windmill.
Tauss fain had got behind—he judged so much,
Backed water, jumped aboard the ferry-boat—
And cut the tow-rope short to set her free—
At first, the current drifts him close in-shore
An oar's length from us as we run down stream.
And lo, that heavy Baron, by the helm,
Sits stark and still, the foresail over him.
By Haman's necklace, how this hallooed to him!

TAUSS.
And prayed to him!

TYCHO.
And swore at him!

TAUSS.
And shook him!

TYCHO.
And plucked the foresail from about his head!—
The moon shone brightly on them:—we might see
The dead man's eye-balls staring face to face!
Quick ears had heard the live one shrieking here!
He jumped—Tauss says he tumbled overboard—

TAUSS.
We ran beyond to mark his rising-place—
The wherry got between us—Melchior saw him,
Went bravely in, at once—but could not find him.
His clothes were heavy.

TYCHO.
If he rose again,
It was beneath the boat.—Some think he did it—
He slew them both—the youth and Baron too!
And partly I believe he did.

NETHERSTEIN.
Caps off!
Colen himself is one!

TYCHO.
A what?

NETHERSTEIN.
A lord.

TYCHO.
So am I too—lend me the cloak, cock robin!
Now that the play is over, strip thy bravery.

RACHEL.
Down on thy knees!

FERRYMAN.
His place is next my back
By land, as well as water, mother-in-law—
But let us two make fresher contracts now—
Henceforth, as I am dutiful, be kind.
He must live longer than I yet have done—
Bear more, and travel farther—who shall find
A sounder-hearted man than Netherstein—
We will be merry yet, and that together.

TYCHO.
Who says so?—What art whispering, Bernard Brann?
Do Baron-finders turn themselves to Barons
As tadpoles change to frogs—by staring at them?
A Baron's son and brother!—not a soldier?

FERRYMAN.
I was a soldier truly, as I said,
Where all our buffets did not fall in front.
One stopped and stunned me, ere aware of it.
Ten times life parted—then came back again.
My wits—which flew like bees whose hive is rifled,
Afraid to light and enter—stooped at last.
The surf of battle had run farther on—
It swamped, and left me stranded. Round about
Lay wrecks so broken that the shape of men
Was almost lost in them. With one beside me,
I changed mine arms and what might hurt by honouring—
He got the better burial. Fields like these
Have careful gleaners after death has reaped them,
Who stoop to pick the weightiest straws the first.
Of such I was aware in time—crept from them,
And when night came, found help.

NETHERSTEIN.
But grieved thy friends,
And lost thine heritage?

FERRYMAN.
I had none such.
As far as honour went, the war was done.
In this my life seemed luckier, ay, and longer
Than his may chance to do who counts fourscore—
I lived to hear it praised, so ended it:
And, free to please myself, began another—
Content with harmless mirth and peaceful bread.