University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

Scene I.

—A Hall in the same Palace.
Enter Idenstein and Others.
Iden.
Fine doings! goodly doings! honest doings!
A Baron pillaged in a Prince's palace!
Where, till this hour, such a sin ne'er was heard of.

Fritz.
It hardly could, unless the rats despoiled
The mice of a few shreds of tapestry.

Iden.
Oh! that I e'er should live to see this day!
The honour of our city's gone for ever.

Fritz.
Well, but now to discover the delinquent:
The Baron is determined not to lose
This sum without a search.

Iden.
And so am I.

Fritz.
But whom do you suspect?

Iden.
Suspect! all people
Without—within—above—below—Heaven help me!

Fritz.
Is there no other entrance to the chamber?

Iden.
None whatsoever.

Fritz.
Are you sure of that?

Iden.
Certain. I have lived and served here since my birth,
And if there were such, must have heard of such,
Or seen it.

Fritz.
Then it must be some one who
Had access to the antechamber.

Iden.
Doubtless.

Fritz.
The man called Werner's poor!

Iden.
Poor as a miser.
But lodged so far off, in the other wing,
By which there's no communication with
The baron's chamber, that it can't be he.
Besides, I bade him “good night” in the hall,
Almost a mile off, and which only leads
To his own apartment, about the same time
When this burglarious, larcenous felony
Appears to have been committed.

Fritz.
There's another,
The stranger—

Iden.
The Hungarian?

Fritz.
He who helped
To fish the baron from the Oder.

Iden.
Not
Unlikely. But, hold—might it not have been
One of the suite?

Fritz.
How? We, sir!

Iden.
No—not you,
But some of the inferior knaves. You say
The Baron was asleep in the great chair—
The velvet chair—in his embroidered night-gown;
His toilet spread before him, and upon it
A cabinet with letters, papers, and
Several rouleaux of gold; of which one only
Has disappeared:—the door unbolted, with
No difficult access to any.

Fritz.
Good sir,
Be not so quick; the honour of the corps
Which forms the Baron's household's unimpeached
From steward to scullion, save in the fair way
Of peculation; such as in accompts,
Weights, measures, larder, cellar, buttery,
Where all men take their prey; as also in
Postage of letters, gathering of rents,
Purveying feasts, and understanding with
The honest trades who furnish noble masters;
But for your petty, picking, downright thievery,
We scorn it as we do board wages. Then
Had one of our folks done it, he would not
Have been so poor a spirit as to hazard
His neck for one rouleau, but have swooped all;
Also the cabinet, if portable.

Iden.
There is some sense in that—

Fritz.
No, Sir, be sure
Twas none of our corps; but some petty, trivial
Fcker and stealer, without art or genius.
The only question is—Who else could have
Access, save the Hungarian and yourself?

Iden.
You don't mean me?

Fritz.
No, sir; I honour more
Your talents—

Iden.
And my principles, I hope.

Fritz.
Of course. But to the point: What's to be done?

Iden.
Nothing—but there's a good deal to be said.
We'll offer a reward; move heaven and earth,
And the police (though there's none nearer than
Frankfort); post notices in manuscript
(For we've no printer); and set by my clerk
To read them (for few can, save he and I).
We'll send out villains to strip beggars, and
Search empty pockets; also, to arrest
All gipsies, and ill-clothed and sallow people.
Prisoners we'll have at least, if not the culprit;
And for the Baron's gold—if 'tis not found,
At least he shall have the full satisfaction
Of melting twice its substance in the raising
The ghost of this rouleau. Here's alchemy
For your Lord's losses!

Fritz.
He hath found a better.

Iden.
Where?

Fritz.
In a most immense inheritance.
The late Count Siegendorf, his distant kinsman,
Is dead near Prague, in his castle, and my Lord
Is on his way to take possession.

Iden.
Was there
No heir?

Fritz.
Oh, yes; but he has disappeared
Long from the world's eye, and, perhaps, the world.
A prodigal son, beneath his father's ban
For the last twenty years; for whom his sire
Refused to kill the fatted calf; and, therefore,
If living, he must chew the husks still. But
The Baron would find means to silence him,
Were he to re-appear: he's politic,
And has much influence with a certain court.

Iden.
He's fortunate.

Fritz.
'Tis true, there is a grandson,
Whom the late Count reclaimed from his son's hands,
And educated as his heir; but, then,
His birth is doubtful.

Iden.
How so?

Fritz.
His sire made
A left-hand, love, imprudent sort of marriage,
With an Italian exile's dark-eyed daughter:
Noble, they say, too; but no match for such
A house as Siegendorf's. The grandsire ill
Could brook the alliance; and could ne'er be brought
To see the parents, though he took the son.

Iden.
If he's a lad of mettle, he may yet
Dispute your claim, and weave a web that may
Puzzle your Baron to unravel.

Fritz.
Why,
For mettle, he has quite enough: they say,
He forms a happy mixture of his sire
And grandsire's qualities,—impetuous as
The former, and deep as the latter; but
The strangest is, that he too disappeared
Some months ago.

Iden.
The devil he did!

Fritz.
Why, yes:
It must have been at his suggestion, at
An hour so critical as was the eve
Of the old man's death, whose heart was broken by it.

Iden.
Was there no cause assigned?

Fritz.
Plenty, no doubt.
And none, perhaps, the true one. Some averred
It was to seek his parents; some because
The old man held his spirit in so strictly
(But that could scarce be, for he doted on him);
A third believed he wished to serve in war,
But, peace being made soon after his departure,
He might have since returned, were that the motive;
A fourth set charitably have surmised,
As there was something strange and mystic in him,
That in the wild exuberance of his nature
He had joined the black bands, who lay waste Lusatia,
The mountains of Bohemia and Silesia,
Since the last years of war had dwindled into
A kind of general condottiero system
Of bandit-warfare; each troop with its chief,
And all against mankind.

Iden.
That cannot be.
A young heir, bred to wealth and luxury,
To risk his life and honours with disbanded
Soldiers and desperadoes!

Fritz.
Heaven best knows!
But there are human natures so allied
Unto the savage love of enterprise,
That they will seek for peril as a pleasure.
I've heard that nothing can reclaim your Indian,
Or tame the tiger, though their infancy
Were fed on milk and honey. After all,
Your Wallenstein, your Tilly and Gustavus,
Your Bannier, and your Torstenson and Weimar,
Were but the same thing upon a grand scale;
And now that they are gone, and peace proclaimed,
They who would follow the same pastime must
Pursue it on their own account. Here comes
The Baron, and the Saxon stranger, who
Was his chief aid in yesterday's escape,
But did not leave the cottage by the Oder
Until this morning.

Enter Stralenheim and Ulric.
Stral.
Since you have refused
All compensation, gentle stranger, save
Inadequate thanks, you almost check even them,
Making me feel the worthlessness of words,
And blush at my own barren gratitude,
They seem so niggardly, compared with what
Your courteous courage did in my behalf—

Ulr.
I pray you press the theme no further.

Stral.
But
Can I not serve you? You are young, and of
That mould which throws out heroes; fair in favour;
Brave, I know, by my living now to say so;
And, doubtlessly, with such a form and heart,
Would look into the fiery eyes of War,
As ardently for glory as you dared
An obscure death to save an unknown stranger,
In an as perilous, but opposite, element.
You are made for the service: I have served;
Have rank by birth and soldiership, and friends,
Who shall be yours. 'Tis true this pause of peace
Favours such views at present scantily;
But 'twill not last, men's spirits are too stirring;
And, after thirty years of conflict, peace
Is but a petty war, as the time shows us
In every forest, or a mere armed truce.
War will reclaim his own; and, in the meantime,
You might obtain a post, which would ensure
A higher soon, and, by my influence, fail not
To rise. I speak of Brandenburgh, wherein
I stand well with the Elector; in Bohemia,
Like you, I am a stranger, and we are now
Upon its frontier.

Ulr.
You perceive my garb
Is Saxon, and, of course, my service due
To my own Sovereign. If I must decline
Your offer, 'tis with the same feeling which
Induced it.

Stral.
Why, this is mere usury!
I owe my life to you, and you refuse
The acquittance of the interest of the debt,
To heap more obligations on me, till
I bow beneath them.

Ulr.
You shall say so when
I claim the payment.

Stral.
Well, sir, since you will not—
You are nobly born?

Ulr.
I have heard my kinsmen say so.

Stral.
Your actions show it. Might I ask your name?

Ulr.
Ulric.

Stral.
Your house's?

Ulr.
When I'm worthy of it,
I'll answer you.

Stral.
(aside).
Most probably an Austrian,
Whom these unsettled times forbid to boast
His lineage on these wild and dangerous frontiers,
Where the name of his country is abhorred.
[Aloud to Fritz and Idenstein.
So, sirs! how have ye sped in your researches?

Iden.
Indifferent well, your Excellency.

Stral.
Then
I am to deem the plunderer is caught?

Iden.
Humph!—not exactly.

Stral.
Or, at least, suspected?

Iden.
Oh! for that matter, very much suspected.

Stral.
Who may he be?

Iden.
Why, don't you know, my Lord?

Stral.
How should I? I was fast asleep.

Iden.
And so
Was I—and that's the cause I know no more
Than does your Excellency.

Stral.
Dolt!

Iden.
Why, if
Your Lordship, being robbed, don't recognise
The rogue; how should I, not being robbed, identify
The thief among so many? In the crowd,
May it please your Excellency, your thief looks
Exactly like the rest, or rather better:
'Tis only at the bar and in the dungeon,
That wise men know your felon by his features;
But I'll engage, that if seen there but once,
Whether he be found criminal or no,
His face shall be so.

Stral.
(to Fritz).
Prithee, Fritz, inform me
What hath been done to trace the fellow?

Fritz.
Faith!
My Lord, not much as yet, except conjecture.

Stral.
Besides the loss (which, I must own, affects me
Just now materially), I needs would find
The villain out of public motives; for
So dexterous a spoiler, who could creep
Through my attendants, and so many peopled
And lighted chambers, on my rest, and snatch
The gold before my scarce-closed eyes, would soon
Leave bare your borough, Sir Intendant!

Iden.
True;
If there were aught to carry off, my Lord.

Ulr.
What is all this?

Stral.
You joined us but this morning.
And have not heard that I was robbed last night.

Ulr.
Some rumour of it reached me as I passed
The outer chambers of the palace, but
I know no further.

Stral.
It is a strange business:
The Intendant can inform you of the facts.

Iden.
Most willingly. You see—

Stral.
(impatiently).
Defer your tale,
Till certain of the hearer's patience.

Iden.
That
Can only be approved by proofs. You see—

Stral.
(again interrupting him, and addressing Ulric).
In short, I was asleep upon my chair,
My cabinet before me, with some gold
Upon it (more than I much like to lose,
Though in part only): some ingenious person
Contrived to glide through all my own attendants,
Besides those of the place, and bore away
A hundred golden ducats, which to find
I would be fain, and there's an end. Perhaps
You (as I still am rather faint) would add
To yesterday's great obligation, this,
Though slighter, yet not slight, to aid these men
(Who seem but lukewarm) in recovering it?

Ulr.
Most willingly, and without loss of time—
(To Idenstein.)
Come hither, mynheer!

Iden.
But so much haste bodes
Right little speed, and—

Ulr.
Standing motionless
None; so let's march: we'll talk as we go on.

Iden.
But—

Ulr.
Show the spot, and then I'll answer you.

Fritz.
I will, sir, with his Excellency's leave.

Stral.
Do so, and take yon old ass with you.

Fritz.
Hence!

Ulr.
Come on, old oracle, expound thy riddle!

[Exit with Idenstein and Fritz.
Stral.
(solus).
Enter Gabor.

Gab.
As those who fare well everywhere, when they
Have supped and slumbered, no great matter how—
And you, my Lord?

Stral.
Better in rest than purse:
Mine inn is like to cost me dear.

Gab.
I heard
Of your late loss; but 'tis a trifle to
One of your order.

Stral.
You would hardly think so,
Were the loss yours.

Gab.
I never had so much
(At once) in my whole life, and therefore am not
Fit to decide. But I came here to seek you.
Your couriers are turned back—I have outstripped them,
In my return.

Stral.
You!—Why?

Gab.
I went at daybreak,
To watch for the abatement of the river,
As being anxious to resume my journey.
Your messengers were all checked like myself;
And, seeing the case hopeless, I await
The current's pleasure.

Stral.
Would the dogs were in it!
Why did they not, at least, attempt the passage?
I ordered this at all risks.

Gab.
Could you order
The Oder to divide, as Moses did
The Red Sea (scarcely redder than the flood
Of the swoln stream), and be obeyed, perhaps
They might have ventured.

Stral.
I must see to it:
The knaves! the slaves!—but they shall smart for this.

[Exit Stralenheim.
Gab.
(solus).
There goes my noble, feudal, self-willed Baron!
Epitome of what brave chivalry
The preux Chevaliers of the good old times
Have left us. Yesterday he would have given
His lands (if he hath any), and, still dearer,
His sixteen quarterings, for as much fresh air
As would have filled a bladder, while he lay
Gurgling and foaming half way through the window
Of his o'erset and water-logged conveyance;
And now he storms at half a dozen wretches
Because they love their lives too! Yet, he's right:
'Tis strange they should, when such as he may put them
To hazard at his pleasure. Oh, thou world!
Thou art indeed a melancholy jest!

[Exit Gabor.

Scene II.

—The Apartment of Werner, in the Palace.
Enter Josephine and Ulric.
Jos.
Stand back, and let me look on thee again!
My Ulric!—my belovéd!—can it be—
After twelve years?

Ulr.
My dearest mother!

Jos.
Yes!
My dream is realised—how beautiful!—
How more than all I sighed for! Heaven receive
A mother's thanks! a mother's tears of joy!
This is indeed thy work!—At such an hour, too,
He comes not only as a son, but saviour.

Ulr.
If such a joy await me, it must double
What I now feel, and lighten from my heart
A part of the long debt of duty, not
Of love (for that was ne'er withheld)—forgive me!
This long delay was not my fault.

Jos.
I know it,
But cannot think of sorrow now, and doubt
If I e'er felt it, 'tis so dazzled from
My memory by this oblivious transport!—
My son!

Enter Werner.
Wer.
What have we here,—more strangers?—

Jos.
No!
Look upon him! What do you see?

Wer.
A stripling,
For the first time—

Ulr.
(kneeling).
For twelve long years, my father!

Wer.
Oh, God!

Jos.
He faints!

Wer.
No—I am better now—
Ulric! (Embraces him.)


Ulr.
My father, Siegendorf!

Wer.
(starting).
Hush! boy—
The walls may hear that name!

Ulr.
What then?

Wer.
Why, then—
But we will talk of that anon. Remember,
I must be known here but as Werner. Come!
Come to my arms again! Why, thou look'st all
I should have been, and was not. Josephine!
Sure 'tis no father's fondness dazzles me;
But, had I seen that form amid ten thousand
Youth of the choicest, my heart would have chosen
This for my son!

Ulr.
And yet you knew me not!

Wer.
Alas! I have had that upon my soul
Which makes me look on all men with an eye
That only knows the evil at first glance.

Ulr.
My memory served me far more fondly: I
Have not forgotten aught; and oft-times in
The proud and princely halls of—(I'll not name them,
As you say that 'tis perilous)—but i' the pomp
Of your sire's feudal mansion, I looked back
To the Bohemian mountains many a sunset,
And wept to see another day go down
O'er thee and me, with those huge hills between us.
They shall not part us more.

Wer.
I know not that.
Are you aware my father is no more?

Ulr.
Oh, Heavens! I left him in a green old age,
And looking like the oak, worn, but still steady
Amidst the elements, whilst younger trees
Fell fast around him. 'Twas scarce three months since.

Wer.
Why did you leave him?

Jos.
(embracing Ulric).
Can you ask that question?
Is he not here?

Wer.
True; he hath sought his parents,
And found them; but, oh! how, and in what state!

Ulr.
All shall be bettered. What we have to do
Is to proceed, and to assert our rights,
Or rather yours; for I waive all, unless
Your father has disposed in such a sort
Of his broad lands as to make mine the foremost,
So that I must prefer my claim for form:
But I trust better, and that all is yours.

Wer.
Have you not heard of Stralenheim?

Ulr.
I saved
His life but yesterday: he's here.

Wer.
You saved
The serpent who will sting us all!

Ulr.
You speak
Riddles: what is this Stralenheim to us?

Wer.
Every thing. One who claims our father's lands:
Our distant kinsman, and our nearest foe.

Ulr.
I never heard his name till now. The Count,
Indeed, spoke sometimes of a kinsman, who,
If his own line should fail, might be remotely
Involved in the succession; but his titles
Were never named before me—and what then?
His right must yield to ours.

Wer.
Aye, if at Prague:
But here he is all-powerful; and has spread
Snares for thy father, which, if hitherto
He hath escaped them, is by fortune, not
By favour.

Ulr.
Doth he personally know you?

Wer.
No; but he guesses shrewdly at my person,
As he betrayed last night; and I, perhaps,
But owe my temporary liberty
To his uncertainty.

Ulr.
I think you wrong him
(Excuse me for the phrase); but Stralenheim
Is not what you prejudge him, or, if so,
He owes me something both for past and present.
I saved his life, he therefore trusts in me.
He hath been plundered too, since he came hither:
Is sick, a stranger, and as such not now
Able to trace the villain who hath robbed him:
I have pledged myself to do so; and the business
Which brought me here was chiefly that: but I
Have found, in searching for another's dross,
My own whole treasure—you, my parents!

Wer.
(agitatedly).
Who
Taught you to mouth that name of “villain?”

Ulr.
What
More noble name belongs to common thieves?

Wer.
Who taught you thus to brand an unknown being
With an infernal stigma?

Ulr.
My own feelings
Taught me to name a ruffian from his deeds.

Wer.
Who taught you, long-sought and ill-found boy! that
It would be safe for my own son to insult me?

Ulr.
I named a villain. What is there in common
With such a being and my father?

Wer.
Every thing!
That ruffian is thy father!

Jos.
Oh, my son!
Believe him not—and yet!— (her voice falters.)


Ulr.
(starts, looks earnestly at Werner and then says slowly).
And you avow it?

Wer.
Ulric, before you dare despise your father,
Learn to divine and judge his actions. Young,
Rash, new to life, and reared in Luxury's lap,
Is it for you to measure Passion's force,
Or Misery's temptation? Wait—(not long,
It cometh like the night, and quickly)—Wait!—
Wait till, like me, your hopes are blighted till
Sorrow and Shame are handmaids of your cabin—
Famine and Poverty your guests at table;
Despair your bed-fellow—then rise, but not
From sleep, and judge! Should that day e'er arrive—
Should you see then the Serpent, who hath coiled
Himself around all that is dear and noble
Of you and yours, lie slumbering in your path,
With but his folds between your steps and happiness,
When he, who lives but to tear from you name,
Lands, life itself, lies at your mercy, with
Chance your conductor—midnight for your mantle—
The bare knife in your hand, and earth asleep,
Even to your deadliest foe; and he as 'twere
Inviting death, by looking like it, while
His death alone can save you:—Thank your God!
If then, like me, content with petty plunder,
You turn aside—I did so.

Ulr.
But—

Wer.
(abruptly).
Hear me!
I will not brook a human voice—scarce dare
Listen to my own (if that be human still)—
Hear me! you do not know this man—I do.
He's mean, deceitful, avaricious. You
Deem yourself safe, as young and brave; but learn
None are secure from desperation, few
From subtilty. My worst foe, Stralenheim,
Housed in a Prince's palace, couched within
A Prince's chamber, lay below my knife!
An instant—a mere motion—the least impulse—
Had swept him and all fears of mine from earth.
He was within my power—my knife was raised—
Withdrawn—and I'm in his:—are you not so?
Who tells you that he knows you not? Who says
He hath not lured you here to end you? or
To plunge you, with your parents, in a dungeon?

[He pauses.
Ulr.
Proceed—proceed!

Wer.
Me he hath ever known,
And hunted through each change of time—name—fortune—
And why not you? Are you more versed in men?
He wound snares round me; flung along my path
Reptiles, whom, in my youth, I would have spurned
Even from my presence; but, in spurning now,
Fill only with fresh venom. Will you be
More patient? Ulric!—Ulric!—there are crimes
Made venial by the occasion, and temptations
Which nature cannot master or forbear.

Ulr.
(who looks first at him and then at Josephine).
My mother!

Wer.
Ah! I thought so: you have now
Only one parent. I have lost alike
Father and son, and stand alone.

Ulr.
But stay!

[Werner rushes out of the chamber.
Jos.
(to Ulric).
Follow him not, until this storm of passion
Abates. Think'st thou, that were it well for him,
I had not followed?

Ulr.
I obey you, mother,
Although reluctantly. My first act shall not
Be one of disobedience.

Jos.
Oh! he is good!
Condemn him not from his own mouth, but trust
To me, who have borne so much with him, and for him,
That this is but the surface of his soul,
And that the depth is rich in better things.

Ulr.
These then are but my father's principles?
My mother thinks not with him?

Jos.
Nor doth he
Think as he speaks. Alas! long years of grief
Have made him sometimes thus.

Ulr.
Explain to me
More clearly, then, these claims of Stralenheim,
That, when I see the subject in its bearings,
I may prepare to face him, or at least
To extricate you from your present perils.
I pledge myself to accomplish this—but would
I had arrived a few hours sooner!

Jos.
Aye!
Hadst thou but done so!

Enter Gabor and Idenstein, with Attendants.
Gab.
(to Ulric).
I have sought you, comrade.
So this is my reward!

Ulr.
What do you mean?

Gab.
'Sdeath! have I lived to these years, and for this!
(To Idenstein.)
But for your age and folly, I would—

Iden.
Help!
Hands off! Touch an Intendant!

Gab.
Do not think
I'll honour you so much as save your throat
From the Ravenstone by choking you myself.

Iden.
I thank you for the respite: but there are
Those who have greater need of it than me.

Ulr.
Unriddle this vile wrangling, or—

Gab.
At once, then,
The Baron has been robbed, and upon me
This worthy personage has deigned to fix
His kind suspicions—me! whom he ne'er saw
Will yester evening.

Iden.
Wouldst have me suspect
My own acquaintances? You have to learn
That I keep better company.

Gab.
You shall
Keep the best shortly, and the last for all men,
The worms! You hound of malice!

[Gabor seizes on him.
Ulr.
(interfering).
Nay, no violence:
He's old, unarmed—be temperate, Gabor!

Gab.
(letting go Idenstein).
True:
I am a fool to lose myself because
Fools deem me knave: it is their homage.

Ulr.
(to Idenstein).
How
Fare you?

Iden.
Help!

Ulr.
I have helped you.

Iden.
Kill him! then
I'll say so.

Gab.
I am calm—live on!

Iden.
That's more
Than you shall do, if there be judge or judgment
In Germany. The Baron shall decide!

Gab.
Does he abet you in your accusation?

Iden.
Does he not?

Gab.
Then next time let him go sink
Ere I go hang for snatching him from drowning.
But here he comes!

Enter Stralenheim.
Gab.
(goes up to him).
My noble Lord, I'm here!

Stral.
Well, sir!

Gab.
Have you aught with me?

Stral.
What should I
Have with you?

Gab.
You know best, if yesterday's
Flood has not washed away your memory;
But that 's a trifle. I stand here accused,
In phrases not equivocal, by yon
Intendant, of the pillage of your person
Or chamber:—is the charge your own or his?

Stral.
I accuse no man.

Gab.
Then you acquit me, Baron?

Stral.
I know not whom to accuse, or to acquit,
Or scarcely to suspect.

Gab.
But you at least
Should know whom not to suspect. I am insulted—
Oppressed here by these menials, and I look
To you for remedy—teach them their duty!
To look for thieves at home were part of it,
If duly taught; but, in one word, if I
Have an accuser, let it be a man
Worthy to be so of a man like me.
I am your equal.

Stral.
You!

Gab.
Aye, sir; and, for
Aught that you know, superior; but proceed—
I do not ask for hints, and surmises,
And circumstance, and proof: I know enough
Of what I have done for you, and what you owe me,
To have at least waited your payment rather
Than paid myself, had I been eager of
Your gold. I also know, that were I even
The villain I am deemed, the service rendered
So recently would not permit you to
Pursue me to the death, except through shame,
Such as would leave your scutcheon but a blank.
But this is nothing: I demand of you
Justice upon your unjust servants, and
From your own lips a disavowal of
All sanction of their insolence: thus much
You owe to the unknown, who asks no more,
And never thought to have asked so much.

Stral.
This tone
May be of innocence.

Gab.
'Sdeath! who dare doubt it,
Except such villains as ne'er had it?

Stral.
You
Are hot, sir.

Gab.
Must I turn an icicle
Before the breath of menials, and their master?

Stral.
Ulric! you know this man; I found him in
Your company.

Gab.
We found you in the Oder;
Would we had left you there!

Stral.
I give you thanks, sir.

Gab.
I've earned them; but might have earned more from others,
Perchance, if I had left you to your fate.

Stral.
Ulric! you know this man?

Gab.
No more than you do
If he avouches not my honour.

Ulr.
I
Can vouch your courage, and, as far as my
Own brief connection led me, honour.

Stral.
Then
I'm satisfied.

Gab.
(ironically).
Right easily, methinks.
What is the spell in his asseveration
More than in mine?

Stral.
I merely said that I
Was satisfied—not that you are absolved.

Gab.
Again! Am I accused or no?

Stral.
Go to!
You wax too insolent. If circumstance
And general suspicion be against you,
Is the fault mine? Is't not enough that I
Decline all question of your guilt or innocence?

Gab.
My Lord, my Lord, this is mere cozenage,
A vile equivocation; you well know
Your doubts are certainties to all around you—
Your looks a voice—your frowns a sentence; you
Are practising your power on me—because
You have it; but beware! you know not whom
You strive to tread on.

Stral.
Threat'st thou?

Gab.
Not so much
As you accuse. You hint the basest injury,
And I retort it with an open warning.

Stral.
As you have said, 'tis true I owe you something,
For which you seem disposed to pay yourself.

Gab.
Not with your gold.

Stral.
With bootless insolence.
[To his Attendants and Idenstein.
You need not further to molest this man,
But let him go his way. Ulric, good morrow!

[Exit Stralenheim, Idenstein, and Attendants.
Gab.
(following).
I'll after him and—

Ulr.
(stopping him).
Not a step.

Gab.
Who shall
Oppose me?

Ulr.
Your own reason, with a moment's
Thought.

Gab.
Must I bear this?

Ulr.
Pshaw! we all must bear
The arrogance of something higher than
Ourselves—the highest cannot temper Satan,
Nor the lowest his vicegerents upon earth.
I've seen you brave the elements, and bear
Things which had made this silkworm cast his skin—
And shrink you from a few sharp sneers and words?

Gab.
Must I bear to be deemed a thief? If 'twere
A bandit of the woods, I could have borne it—
There's something daring in it:—but to steal
The moneys of a slumbering man!—

Ulr.
It seems, then,
You are not guilty.

Gab.
Do I hear aright?
You too!

Ulr.
I merely asked a simple question.

Gab.
If the judge asked me, I would answer “No”—
To you I answer thus.

[He draws.
Ulr.
(drawing).
With all my heart!

Jos.
Without there! Ho! help! help!—Oh, God! here 's murder!

[Exit Josephine, shrieking.
Gabor and Ulric fight. Gaboris disarmed just as Stralenheim, Josephine, Idenstein, etc., re-enter.
Jos.
Oh! glorious Heaven! He 's safe!

Stral.
(to Josephine).
Who's safe!

Jos.
My—

Ulr.
(interrupting her with a stern look, and turning afterwards to Stralenheim).
Both!
Here 's no great harm done.

Stral.
What hath caused all this?

Ulr.
You, Baron, I believe; but as the effect
Is harmless, let it not disturb you.—Gabor!
There is your sword; and when you bare it next,
Let it not be against your friends.

[Ulric pronounces the last words slowly and emphatically in a low voice to Gabor.
Gab.
I thank you
Less for my life than for your counsel.

Stral.
These
Brawls must end here.

Gab.
(taking his sword).
They shall. You've wronged me, Ulric,
More with your unkind thoughts than sword: I would
The last were in my bosom rather than
The first in yours. I could have borne yon noble's
Absurd insinuations—ignorance
And dull suspicion are a part of his
Entail will last him longer than his lands—
But I may fit him yet:—you have vanquished me.
I was the fool of passion to conceive
That I could cope with you, whom I had seen
Already proved by greater perils than
Rest in this arm. We may meet by and by,
However—but in friendship.

[Exit Gabor.
Stral.
I will brook
No more! This outrage following upon his insults,
Perhaps his guilt, has cancelled all the little
I owed him heretofore for the so-vaunted
Aid which he added to your abler succour.
Ulric, you are not hurt?—

Ulr.
Not even by a scratch.

Stral.
(to Idenstein).
Intendant! take your measures to secure
Yon fellow: I revoke my former lenity.
He shall be sent to Frankfort with an escort,
The instant that the waters have abated.

Iden.
Secure him! He hath got his sword again—
And seems to know the use on't; 'tis his trade,
Belike;—I'm a civilian.

Stral.
Fool! are not
Yon score of vassals dogging at your heels
Enough to seize a dozen such? Hence! after him!

Ulr.
Baron, I do beseech you!

Stral.
I must be
Obeyed. No words!

Iden.
Well, if it must be so—
March, vassals! I'm your leader, and will bring
The rear up: a wise general never should
Expose his precious life—on which all rests.
I like that article of war.

[Exit Idenstein and Attendants.
Stral.
Come hither,
Ulric; what does that woman here? Oh! now
I recognise her, 'tis the stranger's wife
Whom they name “Werner.”

Ulr.
'Tis his name.

Stral.
Indeed!
Is not your husband visible, fair dame?—

Jos.
Who seeks him?

Stral.
No one—for the present: but
I fain would parley, Ulric, with yourself
Alone.

Ulr.
I will retire with you.

Jos.
(Aside to Ulric, as she goes out.)

Ulr.
(to Josephine).
Fear not!—

[Exit Josephine.
Stral.
Ulric, I think that I may trust you;
You saved my life—and acts like these beget
Unbounded confidence.

Ulr.
Say on.

Stral.
Mysterious
And long-engendered circumstances (not
To be now fully entered on) have made
This man obnoxious—perhaps fatal to me.

Ulr.
Who? Gabor, the Hungarian?

Stral.
No—this “Werner”—
With the false name and habit.

Ulr.
How can this be?
He is the poorest of the poor—and yellow
Sickness sits caverned in his hollow eye:
The man is helpless.

Stral.
He is—'tis no matter;—
But if he be the man I deem (and that
He is so, all around us here—and much
That is not here—confirm my apprehension)
He must be made secure ere twelve hours further.

Ulr.
And what have I to do with this?

Stral.
I have sent
To Frankfort, to the Governor, my friend,
(I have the authority to do so by
An order of the house of Brandenburgh),
For a fit escort—but this curséd flood
Bars all access, and may do for some hours.

Ulr.
It is abating.

Stral.
That is well.

Ulr.
But how
Am I concerned?

Stral.
As one who did so much
For me, you cannot be indifferent to
That which is of more import to me than
The life you rescued.—Keep your eye on him!
The man avoids me, knows that I now know him.—
Watch him!—as you would watch the wild boar when
He makes against you in the hunter's gap—
Like him he must be speared.

Ulr.
Why so?

Stral.
He stands
Between me and a brave inheritance!
Oh! could you see it! But you shall.

Ulr.
I hope so.

Stral.
It is the richest of the rich Bohemia,
Unscathed by scorching war. It lies so near
The strongest city, Prague, that fire and sword
Have skimmed it lightly: so that now, besides
Its own exuberance, it bears double value
Confronted with whole realms far and near
Made deserts.

Ulr.
You describe it faithfully.

Stral.
Aye—could you see it, you would say so—but,
As I have said, you shall.

Ulr.
I accept the omen.

Stral.
Then claim a recompense from it and me,
Such as both may make worthy your acceptance
And services to me and mine for ever.

Ulr.
And this sole, sick, and miserable wretch—
This way-worn stranger—stands between you and
This Paradise?—(As Adam did between
The devil and his)— [Aside].


Stral.
He doth.

Ulr.
Hath he no right?

Stral.
Right! none. A disinherited prodigal,
Who for these twenty years disgraced his lineage
In all his acts—but chiefly by his marriage,
And living amidst commerce-fetching burghers,
And dabbling merchants, in a mart of Jews.

Ulr.
He has a wife, then?

Stral.
You'd be sorry to
Call such your mother. You have seen the woman
He calls his wife.

Ulr.
Is she not so?

Stral.
No more
Than he 's your father:—an Italian girl,
The daughter of a banished man, who lives
On love and poverty with this same Werner.

Ulr.
They are childless, then?

Stral.
There is or was a bastard,
Whom the old man—the grandsire (as old age
Is ever doting) took to warm his bosom,
As it went chilly downward to the grave:
But the imp stands not in my path—he has fled,
No one knows whither; and if he had not,
His claims alone were too contemptible
To stand.—Why do you smile?

Ulr.
At your vain fears:
A poor man almost in his grasp—a child
Of doubtful birth—can startle a grandee!

Stral.
All 's to be feared, where all is to be gained.

Ulr.
True; and aught done to save or to obtain it.

Stral.
You have harped the very string next to my heart.
I may depend upon you?

Ulr.
'Twere too late
To doubt it.

Stral.
Let no foolish pity shake
Your bosom (for the appearance of the man
Is pitiful)—he is a wretch, as likely
To have robbed me as the fellow more suspected,
Except that circumstance is less against him;
He being lodged far off, and in a chamber
Without approach to mine; and, to say truth,
I think too well of blood allied to mine,
To deem he would descend to such an act:
Besides, he was a soldier, and a brave one
Once—though too rash.

Ulr.
And they, my Lord, we know
By our experience, never plunder till
They knock the brains out first—which makes then heirs,
Not thieves. The dead, who feel nought, can lose nothing,
Nor e'er be robbed: their spoils are a bequest—
No more.

Stral.
Go to! you are a wag. But say
I may be sure you'll keep an eye on this man,
And let me know his slightest movement towards
Concealment or escape.

Ulr.
You may be sure
You yourself could not watch him more than I
Will be his sentinel.

Stral.
By this you make me
Yours, and for ever.

Ulr.
Such is my intention.

[Exeunt.