_Hans Lorba.s.s_. Well?

_Anna Goldhair_. Hans--dost thou know what the Queen says of me?

_Hans Lorba.s.s_. Queens are no friends of thine; the women will have none of thee now. Thou'dst best befriend thyself, and be thine own queen. [_He goes out._]

[Anna Goldhair _cowers down again in the shadow of the throne. Then, from behind, the_ King._]

_King_ [_coming forward_]. When I was yet a little boy I loved to put my ear down to the earth and shudder at the danger coming toward me in the thunder of the horses' hoofs. Even so now, the voice of the north wind wails aloud in the chimney how grim-visored death stands threatening upon my outer wall.... Was it for this the sea once rolled in music to my feet, for this my drawn sword thrilled in my hand, for this a woman beckoned me from out the clouds,--that here in this corner my young and l.u.s.ty body should rot away to naught? Patience yet! I know my revenge! Though every broil burst out here, though my life itself were forfeit, though I became a very brute, scurvy and bleeding, goaded to despair, yet justice should be done! Only wait! I will die right joyfully, but fight--I will not. [_He sees_ Anna Goldhair.] What, Goldhair, thou awake? Come here!--Come, I command thee! Thou wast no joyous guest at the feast, I warrant. Nor I.... Do not speak, Goldhair.... Hush! Lest they believe I vaunt my sin. But then, what they believe is naught to me. Come, give me thy hand. Thou art fettered to me,--yet thou wast only a plaything, only a splinter of gla.s.s wherein I saw my image, only the last string of a broken lute.... Lean down. I will entrust something to thy care: here, under my doeskin corselet I carry a treasure. It is not much to see, neither gold nor precious stone,--only a feather. I won it once, it was a prize,--that was long since.... Enough, that it was precious to me. If I should come to harm to-day, take it and throw it in the fire. Wilt thou?

_Anna Goldhair_. Yes, sire.

_King_. I thank thee. [_Caressing her._] Why dost thou shroud thy pretty hair with a grey veil? It is still golden. Dost thou thus seek to shroud dreams of the past? What look'st thou at so? [_Whispers._] Is thy sorrow for thy Queen.

[Anna Goldhair _hides her face in her hands, shuddering._]

_King_. Then cease thy grief ... methinks the sword already clangs without to bring thee peace.

_Hans Lorba.s.s_. Master.

_King_. Thou, Hans, here in my tower, which thou hast so avoided? What brings thee here?

_Hans Lorba.s.s_. We are attacked. The Duke has surrounded the castle by night with a thousand men. The battering-ram and beam had even begun their cursed work, when suddenly there came a lull, and by the glow of torches we saw upon the plain a white flag held aloft upon a lance-point. We held communication a spear's length from the camp.

There he stood, murder in his glance, and there stood Skoll and Gylf, and all the other vermin that have crawled to his feet; and he rolled his eyes, gnashing his teeth like a nut-cracker--Heaven send we're not the nut!

_King_. What offer did he make?

_Hans Lorba.s.s_. A respite until day-break, in which time to yield thyself and me into his hands.

_King_. Me, Hans, and alone.

_Hans Lorba.s.s_ And if they yield he will allow his heart to melt with pity; he will b.u.t.ter on both sides the bread of all the people who will shout for him. That is his way; all innocence, like the rest of us.

_King_. And if?

_Hans Lorba.s.s_. If not? He swore,--and here his spleen burst out--that let a single sword be raised against him, a single spear be laid in rest, and he would hang and quarter every living, breathing thing, without mercy. This he calls choking rebellion in the seed.

_King_. And what was the decision of the people?

_Hans Lorba.s.s_. The people will fight.

_King_. Will fight? Will fight? This flock of nestlings, lacking in every sort of strength, inspired by no courage-breeding fire, wanting in power, in discipline,--

_Hans Lorba.s.s_. Like their King himself.

_King_. Like their King himself. Quite true. The shadow of a King, set on the throne by woman's love, is not the man to lead a forlorn hope.

_Hans Lorba.s.s_. Though his people offer themselves to the sword for him.

_King_. Take care; I have outgrown thy scorn. [_Knocking on the door to the right._]

_Colestin_ [_outside_]. Open the door for the King's son.

_Hans Lorba.s.s_. Shall I?

_King_. Thou must. This house is his; and if he chose to, he could drive me hence.

[Colestin _enters, leading in the young_ Prince _by the hand. It is gradually growing light._]

_The Young Prince_ [_running to_ Anna Goldhair]. Anna! Ah, Anna, art thou here? The mother told me thou wast dead. Say. Anna, art thou vexed with me? I eat my supper all alone, I say my prayers and go to bed all alone. I sing alone, I play alone,--and oh, the mother weeps so much!

They said my father had been cruel to her,--how sorry he would be to see her weep! Anna, dear Anna, come and help us, for we are so sad!

[Anna Goldhair _kneels down before him and sobs on his neck._]

_King_. What now?

_Colestin_. My Prince, my little Prince!

_King_. Well?

_Colestin_. 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 Colestin, and kneel down here before thee, and ask thee--something,--I forget.

_Colestin_. 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 G.o.d 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.

_Colestin_. Good! Though thou so hatest thy people--

_King_. I hate ye not.

_Colestin_. 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.

_King_. What can I otherwise? In whose blood shall I dip this body to make it consecrate? With what right shall I plunge this sword into fiery service? He who stands without there serves a righteous cause. So sayest thou. The Chancellor, likewise. You all agree. Therefore I counsel thee: be wise, rescue your country and make clean your house.

There is still time ... the storm yet lulls. The Duke has need of me; deliver me to him.

_Colestin_. All my strength is broken against this madness, which destroys itself.... And the hour presses.... What can I do? The crowd shrieks lamentations in my ear. Kneel down, my child, stretch out thy arms,--perhaps, that silent picture will reach this heart. [_He makes the young_ Prince _kneel down._]

_King_. Stand up. . . Come here. . . Thou hast stood in my way, and yet I loved thee. A madness, an absurdity! [_Aside._] Suppose: if thou wert not,--if in this coming hour I might but strike a blow for my own throne.... Where now?

_The young Prince_ [_clinging to_ Hans]. I am afraid.

_Hans Lorba.s.s_ [_gazing at the_ King]. There is the pinch. [_Going up to him, aside_]. And if---

_King_. If--what?

_Hans Lorba.s.s_. If through some chance, quite unforseen, this land should all at once become thine own, entirely thine?