WALLENSTEIN.

Fear! Wherefore?

COUNTESS.

Shouldst thou depart this night, and we at waking Never more find thee!

WALLENSTEIN.

Fancies!

COUNTESS.

Ob, my soul Has long been weighed down by these dark forebodings, And if I combat and repel them waking, They still crush down upon my heart in dreams, I saw thee, yesternight with thy first wife Sit at a banquet, gorgeously attired.

WALLENSTHIN.

This was a dream of favorable omen, That marriage being the founder of my fortunes.

COUNTESS.

To-day I dreamed that I was seeking thee In thy own chamber. As I entered, lo!

It was no more a chamber: the Chartreuse At Gitschin 'twas, which thou thyself hast founded, And where it is thy will that thou shouldst be Interred.

WALLENSTEIN.

Thy soul is busy with these thoughts.

COUNTESS.

What! dost thou not believe that oft in dreams A voice of warning speaks prophetic to us?

WALLENSTEIN.

There is no doubt that there exist such voices, Yet I would not call them Voices of warning that announce to us Only the inevitable. As the sun, Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image In the atmosphere, so often do the spirits Of great events stride on before the events, And in to-day already walks to-morrow.

That which we read of the fourth Henry's death Did ever vex and haunt me like a tale Of my own future destiny. The king Felt in his breast the phantom of the knife Long ere Ravaillac armed himself therewith.

His quiet mind forsook him; the phantasma Started him in his Louvre, chased him forth Into the open air; like funeral knells Sounded that coronation festival; And still with boding sense he heard the tread Of those feet that even then were seeking him Throughout the streets of Paris.

COUNTESS.

And to thee The voice within thy soul bodes nothing?

WALLENSTEIN.

Nothing.

Be wholly tranquil.

COUNTESS.

And another time I hastened after thee, and thou rann'st from me Through a long suite, through many a s.p.a.cious hall.

There seemed no end of it; doors creaked and clapped; I followed panting, but could not overtake thee; When on a sudden did I feel myself Grasped from behind,--the hand was cold that grasped me; 'Twas thou, and thou didst kiss me, and there seemed A crimson covering to envelop us.

WALLENSTEIN.

That is the crimson tapestry of my chamber.

COUNTESS (gazing on him).

If it should come to that--if I should see thee, Who standest now before me in the fulness Of life----

[She falls on his breast and weeps.

WALLENSTEIN.

The emperor's proclamation weighs upon thee-- Alphabets wound not--and he finds no hands.

COUNTESS.

If he should find them, my resolve is taken-- I bear about me my support and refuge.

[Exit COUNTESS.

SCENE V.

WALLENSTEIN, GORDON.

WALLENSTEIN.

All quiet in the town?

GORDON.

The town is quiet.

WALLENSTEIN.

I hear a boisterous music! and the castle Is lighted up. Who are the revellers?

GORDON.

There is a banquet given at the castle To the Count Terzky and Field-Marshal Illo.

WALLENSTEIN.

In honor of the victory--this tribe Can show their joy in nothing else but feasting.

[Rings. The GROOM OF THE CHAMBER enters.

Unrobe me. I will lay me down to sleep.

[WALLENSTEIN takes the keys from GORDON.

So we are guarded from all enemies, And shut in with sure friends.

For all must cheat me, or a face like this [Fixing his eyes on GORDON.

Was ne'er a hypocrite's mask.

[The GROOM OF THE CHAMBER takes off his mantle, collar, and scarf.

WALLENSTEIN.

Take care--what is that?

GROOM OF THE CHAMBER.

The golden chain is snapped in two.

WALLENSTEIN.

Well, it has lasted long enough. Here--give it.

[He takes and looks at the chain.

'Twas the first present of the emperor.

He hung it round me in the war of Friule, He being then archduke; and I have worn it Till now from habit-- From superst.i.tion, if you will. Belike, It was to be a talisman to me; And while I wore it on my neck in faith, It was to chain to me all my life-long The volatile fortune, whose first pledge it was.

Well, be it so! Henceforward a new fortune Must spring up for me; for the potency Of this charm is dissolved.