_Hans_. And once more I stand broad-legged in thy unhappy path and shout: Do not destroy thyself! Whoever runs after his desire shall perish in the race; it only yields to him who hurls it from him. Thou dost not know as yet the old wife's schemes; thou standest now above enchantment, a young glowing G.o.d confiding in the magic of thine own strength. What thou dost know is that thy prize is hidden, and that the broad path of possibilities, on which thou thinkest to glide aloft, may be choked all at once between black walls and leave thee fevered and panting with the chase, with desire and loathing, eagerness and shrinking, to hasten on forever and never gain the end.

_Prince_ [_pointing to his helmet with a smile_]. Look there!

_Hans_. Thou hast done well to bring them; if the fatal seed of death does not draw thee down to eternal failure thou must do well indeed!

For now the secret purpose of thy path is about to reveal itself; now thy proud and self-poised soul pants to mount aloft,--and here I stand and counsel thee: Hurl away thy prize!

_Prince_. Thou ravest.

[_The_ Burial-wife _appears in the door of the tower, thrown into lurid prominence by the fire that burns within on the hearth. It grows dark rapidly._]

_Hans_. Too late. It has begun. [_Whispers._] It looks as if the hearth-fire glowed straight through her parchment skin and wrapped her bones in flame.

_Prince_. Burial-wife! Look me in the face!

_Burial-wife_. Thou hast come! Welcome, dear son!

_Prince_. Thy dear son--I am not. Thy creditor I am, and I demand my own.

_Burial-wife_. What dost thou ask?

_Prince_. I forced from thee the words that taught me my way; the deed thou hast demanded is accomplished, and I claim the prize!

_Burial-wife_. What I have promised thee, I will faithfully fulfil, my child. A primal force lies within these white husks. They change their form according to their owner's will. What, then, is thy desire? A woman?

_Prince_. A woman? There are enough of women. More than one has borne me down to earth in the snare of her supple limbs, and hampered my soul's flight. What is a woman? A downfall and a heaviness, a darkness and a theft of alien lights, a sweet allurement in the eternal void, a smile without a thought, a cry for naught.

_Hans_. Bravo! Bravo!

_Prince_. What I demand now is that queen of women, after whom I have thirsted even while drinking, by the side of whom my princely dignity shall appear but as a herald; for whose voice my soul starves though I sit in the wisest councils of the world; in whom I see our torturing human weaknesses healed to a joyous beauty; that woman before whom I, though mad with victory, must bend my proud knee in trembling and affright; whose blushes shall bear witness to me how a longing heart can shield itself in modesty; she who will stand in deepest need and beg with me at the cross-roads; whose love can make death itself pa.s.s me by; this woman, this deep peace, this calm still world in which when lost I cannot lose myself, where wrong itself must turn to right,--this woman,--mine--I now demand of thee.

_Burial-wife_. s.n.a.t.c.h down the prize from thy helmet: I will announce its promise to thee; unless thou art blind or deaf, thou shalt pierce to the depth of the riddle. The first of the feathers is but a gleam from the lights and shadows that brew about thee. When thou throwest it into the fire, thou shalt behold her image in the twilight. The second of the feathers,--mark it well--shall bring her to thee in love, for when thou burnest it alone in the dying glow, she must wander by night and appear before thee. And until the third has perished in the flame, thy hand stretched forth shall bless her; but the third burning brings her death: and therefore guard it well and think upon the end.

_Prince_. I will. Unwarned, I let them wave aloft in mad presumption; but now I will hide them safe within my gorget. [_To_ Hans.] Why shouldst thou look at me so grimly? I know myself to be quite freed from sorrow; all I lack is a faithful companion on the way.... "When thou throwest the first into the fire thou shalt behold her image in the twilight." [_He pulls out one of the feathers and hastens toward the tower._]

_Hans_ [_boldly opposing him_]. What wilt thou do?

_Prince_. Out of the way? [_He opens the door of the tower._]

_Hans_. Cursed witch, thou hast-- [_A sudden bright blaze within the tower. A flare of yellow light goes up. The Prince comes back._] Art thou singed?

_Prince_ [_looks about wildly_]. I see naught.

[Burial-wife _points silently to the background, where on the horizon above the sea the dark outline of a woman's figure appears and glides slowly from left to right._]

_Prince_. I see in the heavens a shadowy form, rosy with flame, pierced through with light. If it be thou on whom my longing hangs, I pray thee turn thy face and lighten me! Lift the veil from thine eyes! Remain, ah, vanish not behind the stars,--step down that I may learn to love thee!... She does not hear. When we part, say how I may know thee again!... How shall I--? Her figure sways, it fades with the clouds-- was that the sign?

_Hans_. Thou hast bewitched him finely.

_Prince_. Still she is mine, as I know who I am! And should she never long to come to me, yet my soul's longings shall be stronger than she herself. Hans Lorba.s.s, my brave fellow-soldier, take thy sword and arm thyself straightway.

_Hans_. I am armed. [_To the_ Burial-wife.] The hangman--

_Prince_. Spare thy curses. She serves my happiness as best she can.

Farewell! We will seek the world over, and when the first promise is fulfilled--Farewell!

_Hans_ [_grimly_]. Farewell!

[_They go out to the left._]

_The Burial-wife_ [_alone_]. Go, my children, face the combat, fight boldly, wield the feathers unrestrained; when you weary, bring me back your outworn bodies, cast them here upon my sh.o.r.e. But till the time shall come when I will plant them like twigs in my garden, go and fight and love and dance ... for I can wait.... I can wait!

ACT. II.

_Arcade on the first story of a Romanesque palace, separated in the background by a row of columns from the court below, to which steps lead down from the middle to right and left. On the platform between them, facing the court, is a throne-chair, which later is covered with a curtain. Walks lead right and left rectangularly toward the background. On the right are several steps to the back, the princ.i.p.al path to the castle chapel. On the left side-wall in front is a door with a stone bench near it, and to the left of that another door. On the right in front is an iron-bound outside door. Stone benches stand between the columns. The back of the buildings surrounding the court form the background of the scene. Early morning._

Scene I.

Skoll _with his spear between his knees, asleep on a bench_. Colestin _with a page holding a torch._

_Colestin_. Put the link out, my son. It hangs on thy tired arm too heavily.... Yes, yes, this morning many a one thinks of his bed....

What, an alarm so early? Man and steed armed?

_Skoll_ [_in his sleep_]. Brother--thy health!

_Page_. Look! The fellow is still drunk.

_Colestin_. How else? Would, though, the filthy wretch and his Duke too with his dissolute bravery, were smoked out of the country!... Still, I am not anxious. The Pommeranian prince--there is a man of glorious renown!--may win.

_Page_. I fear, my lord, thou art wrong. The horses of the Pommeranian snort below. They look as though they were about to start.

_Colestin_. Hast thou seen aright? The Pommeranian?

_Page_. Yes.

_Colestin_. I feel as though the earth itself did sway, as though my poor old head would burst in pieces. Now falls the Fatherland, which, kingless, thought it might escape from rapine; yet all the while in its own breast there stood the powerfullest of robbers. Here where a continual harvest of peace once smiled, where inborn modesty of soul once paired joyously with ingrown habit and youth grew guiltless to maturity, the ruthless hand of tyranny will henceforth rest choking on our necks, and-- [_Blows sound on the door to the right._] Who bl.u.s.ters at the door? Go look.

_Page_ [_looking through the peep-hole_]. I see a spear-shaft glitter.

[_Calling._] What wilt thou without there?

_Hans Lorba.s.s's Voice_. Open the door!

_Page_ [_calling_]. Why didst thou come up the steps? The entrance is there below.

_Hans Lorba.s.s's Voice_. I know that already. I did not care to sweat there in the crowd. Open the door.