Burst open wide the bowels of the earth!
The cleft shall be your corpses" sepulchre!
[_Pause. Shouts of victory in the distance._]
1ST OFFICER. Lord in the heavens, who grants men victories!
Wrangel is in retreat already!
HOHENZOLLERN. No!
GOLZ. By heaven, friends! Look! There on his left flank!
He"s drawing back his guns from the redoubts!
ALL. Oh, triumph! Triumph! Victory is ours!
THE PRINCE (_descending from the hillock_).
On, Kottwitz, follow me!
KOTTWITZ. Come, cool now--cool!
THE PRINCE. On! Let the trumpets sound the charge!
And on!
KOTTWITZ. Cool, now, I say.
THE PRINCE (_wildly_).
By heaven and earth and h.e.l.l!
KOTTWITZ. Our liege"s Highness in the ordinance Commanded we should wait his orders here.
Golz, read the gentlemen the ordinance.
THE PRINCE. Orders? Eh, Kottwitz, do you ride so slow?
Have you not heard the orders of your heart?
KOTTWITZ. Orders?
HOHENZOLLERN. Absurd!
KOTTWITZ. The orders of my heart?
HOHENZOLL. Listen to reason, Arthur!
GOLZ. Here, my chief!
KOTTWITZ (_offended_).
Oh, ho! you give me that, young gentleman?--The nag you dance about on, at a pinch I"ll tow him home yet at my horse"s tail!
March, march, my gentlemen! Trumpets, the charge!
On to the battle, on! Kottwitz is game!
GOLZ (_to_ KOTTWITZ).
Never, my colonel, never! No, I swear!
2D OFFICER. Remember, Hennings" not yet at the Rhyn!
1ST OFFICER. Relieve him of his sword!
THE PRINCE. My sword, you say?
[_He pushes him back_.]
Hi, you impertinent boy, who do not even Know yet the Ten Commandments of the Mark!
Here is your sabre, and the scabbard with it!
[_He tears off the officer"s sword together with the belt_.]
1ST OFFICER (_reeling_).
By G.o.d, Prince, that"s--
THE PRINCE (_threateningly_).
If you don"t hold your tongue--
HOHENZOLLERN (_to the officer_).
Silence! You must be mad!
THE PRINCE (_giving up the sword_).
Ho, corporal"s guard!
Off to headquarters with the prisoner!
[_To_ KOTTWITZ _and the other officers_.]
Now, gentlemen, the countersign: A knave Who follows not his general to the fight!-- Now, who dares lag?
KOTTWITZ. You heard. Why thunder more?
HOHENZOLLERN (_mollifying_).
It was advice, no more, they sought to give.
KOTTWITZ. On your head be it. I go with you.
THE PRINCE (_somewhat calmed_). Come!
Be it upon my head then. Follow, brothers!
[_Exeunt_.]
SCENE III
_A room in a village. A gentleman-in-waiting, booted and spurred, enters. A peasant and his wife are sitting at a table, at work._