_Hans Lorba.s.s_. Then I believe it, for my leg that I lost begins to pain me.
_King_. Listen! Back in the hedge a shepherd pipes upon his willow whistle. The streams are beginning to thaw and run down hill.... Brown buds come out on all the branches. The very sunsets are different.
Look, high up in the blue the wild geese fly in their triangle.
Northward they go. Not I.... I must. We both must, Hans, for we have grown old.
_Hans Lorba.s.s_. Because our heads are white? Thou art wrong, master. I dare venture many a conflict lies in our path before thou goest to thy fathers" lofty house, and anointest thyself with thy fathers" honors.
_King_. Honors are the mail-coat of the weary. I have need of them.
_Hans Lorba.s.s_. Thou?
_King_. More than thou thinkest for. [_Goes up, laughing bitterly._]
_Hans Lorba.s.s_. Whither now?
_King_. Do not ask.
_Hans Lorba.s.s_. Thou lookest toward the south,--what seekest thou there? Hast thou not known it all long since? That sunny land, those blue, flower-sown havens, whither thy hasting step once fled? Thou knowest they are full of stench and lamentation. Those beauteous women, fairest of the fair,--or pa.s.sing as the fairest,--to bow in whose impious slavery once compa.s.sed all thy thoughts? Thou knowest they are all as empty as drained-out casks. And so, because the desire was lacking in thee to fill them with thy own soul, thou hast sourly turned away and sought perfection farther on. Thou hast come hither over lands and seas, and climbest up into the star-teeming void. Yet thou wilt never, never reach thy star. And that vailed enchanting distance itself, if it would once unmask and let thee reach it, how miserable it would look! Every conflict there would seem only a wrangle, every woman but a doll! Come now, lay aside thy shoulder-belt stretch thyself out and eat thy supper.
_King_. Let be, old grumbler! I seek naught in the distance.... But near by, floating in the haze of the spring evening, I think I see a dim shape of white battlements.
_Hans Lorba.s.s_. It may well be. The town is only three miles farther on, and the air is clear. Still I advise thee, do not think upon the past.
_King_. Why?
_Hans Lorba.s.s_. It was an evil-omened year. The worst of all, I think.
It taught thy wild untrammeled spirit to circle-hopping in a cage, to limp instead of fly.
_King_. Thou art wrong, my friend. Something wakes in me at sight of those roofs.... There the wings of happiness once grazed my cheek, there, though in the midst of torture joy ripened to summer in my heart. Let me gaze on the place where imploring trustfulness once confessed itself to me by joyous sacrifice, and the purest of womankind yielded herself up in sweet urgency, and an oppressed country confided in me as a master; where even victory surrendered me her standard; let me gaze upon the spot, and then, instead of stretching forth my kingly hand in love and grat.i.tude, I must slip past it outlawed, like a beggar or a thief. I stand here now and gaze through tears at that white glow of light, and gnaw my lips to bleeding.
_Hans Lorba.s.s_. Master!
_King_. It is nothing,--nothing! All I have ever desired, all my soul"s treasure, all I could not attain, can be spoken in one word. And that I may not speak. In silence I decide, and put it from me. I tear it from my breast, where it has clung so long; and with it all my longing pain blows like a faded leaf a world away.--Now I will lie down and sleep; for I am weary.
_Hans Lorba.s.s_. And do thy pains and desires all come to an end thus?
Look! Above there, where the sandy turf broadens among frozen clods past the sun-pierced snow. The wisest of womankind has prepared a bed for pilgrims such as we. Look!
_King_ [_going toward the open grave_]. I see. It is just suited to a guest like me. Here, where--[_He starts back in alarm._] Hans!
_Hans Lorba.s.s_. What is the matter?
_King_. Come here. The grave is ready, but it is not empty. Look down and tell me what thou callest it, crouched there gray in the sand, that leers at me with staring eyes. Is it a corpse? Is it a spirit?
_Hans Lorba.s.s_. Oh look at it! The badger is at work. Thou hast her now.
_King_. The Burial-wife? [Hans Lorba.s.s _nods._]
_King_. Out with her!
_Hans Lorba.s.s_ [_stopping him_]. Listen to me. Thou knowest I have known her longer than thou. Leave her alone. She was wont to lie thus for hours and days, and heed no words nor prayers; but seemed as dead.
She is proof then against all summons and all blows; but when her time comes, then her limbs will stir, and she will come up out of the grave.
[Colestin _and the train with the young_ Prince _enter._]
_Colestin_. There they stand!
_King_ [_turning fiercely and raising his sword_]. What do you want? A quarrel? We two are snarling dogs. We blindly seize on everybody near.
Now come on! Speak!
_The Young Prince_. My father!
_King_. Wha--?
_The Young Prince_. My King!
_King_ You would mock the man that fled from you?
_The Young Prince_. Down on your knees and honor him as I do!
_King_ [_dazed_]. Hans!... But stand up!... Am I King? A hapless wretch,--naught but my man, my sword, and that pot of soup there, to call my own. I have no more. My very crown, the gloomy throne of Gotland must be fought for anew; stand up my son. [_He raises him, and will embrace him, but suddenly pales, staring past the men in great agitation._] Hans! Dost thou see who stands there in the twilight of the wood--how spirit-like, how severed from this world--[_He shrieks._]
[_Enter the_ Queen. _Behind her at a short distance, two of her women._]
_Queen_. Witte!
_King_. Go! I know thee not. And yet--I know thee. Thou art my--peace.
Thou art ... Naught art thou more for me.... My body withers and my strength is fallen asunder. Therefore I may not say: "Thou art." ...
Only "Thou wast." Still thou wast once of a surety--my wife.
_Queen_. I am to-day--I am a thousandfold! Hast thou forgot what I promised thee the day thou gavest thyself with hesitation to my service? I search thy face. I know thou turnest wearied back to thy northern home. Dost thou forget then where a balsam is prepared to heal thy bruised feet, dost thou forget where a thousand arms reach out to greet their loved one? Knowest thou not where thy home stands and calls to thee? Knowest thou not how well-nigh breathless with its joy my smile says unto thee: "I charm thee not?"
_King_. Nay, charm me not. I am not worthy. Life has seared me, and put a shameful kiss upon my brow.
_Queen_. Then let me cool it with my health-bringing hand, and thou wilt never feel the scar again.
_King_. How can I feel that scar or even the happiness after which I longed, now that those hours are past which knew thy love for me?
_Queen_. In no other have I trusted. I guarded thy son for thee; and still thy throne stands empty, waiting its master.
_King_. Then thou hast waited fifteen years and sorrowed not. So shalt thou learn my mystery. Two kingdoms I have won, to pleasure me; the first has vanished into air, the second is my shame. Justice became a mock,--all gifts a usury; and everywhere I turned a murderous laugh pursued me. Then purity plunged in the mire, then honor mocked its own best gift: all this the magic of the heron wreaked upon me.... Yea, now thou knowest; a charm was all my crime and all my fate, year after year. It blinded me to love and life, to wife and child; it hunted me away from thee, and drove me from place to place; and when a lucent flight of happiness sprang up from heaven after my downfall, it drowned its glory in a flood of tears. Behold! [_He tears open his gorget and draws out the last of the heron"s feathers._] The enchantment"s last beguiling pledge I hold here in my hand. When this feather shrivels in the flame there sinks an unblessed woman to her death, that woman whose wraith stood in the heavens for me to gaze upon,--that woman whom I sought and never found! Behold! I bury the madness in its grave, and with the act I put the longing from me. [_He tosses the feather into the flames. There is a flash of lightning, and a roll of thunder follows it._]
_Queen_ [_sinks down, whispering with failing strength_]. Now are we two protected from all mischance.... I still ... have been thy happiness ... even in ... death. [_She dies._]
_Prince_. Mother! Speak one word to me!
_King_. It was thou? It was thou? [_He throws himself upon her body._]
_The Young Prince_ [_in tears_]. Ah, Mother!