Runa.—Very well then. Go to my chamber. In a niche above the hearth thou wilt find a golden vessel. In it is a potion that heals every ill and restores to man his lost peace. It is a precious balsam! Take the vessel and carry it to the Eagles’ Peak and pour out some for Radúz—let him know that Queen Runa wishes him well! Yet take heed that thou spill not a drop, and moisten not with it thine own lips, shouldst thou become thirsty along the road. There is but little of the potion, and each drop that thou wastest means for Radúz an irrevocable loss. Go then, dear Mahulena. When thou returnest, then tell me how thy heart became glad, thy compassionate and tender heart. Take him white bread and honey too, if thou desirest. But give heed that no one see which direction thou takest, for not everyone would praise my weakness if he knew whither thou wert starting with my permission. Now I must follow thy father; the guests will soon arrive . . . Well, am I so evil as perchance I once seemed to thee? (She goes out.)
Mahulena.—Do I dream or am I awake? What is happening to me? Why did a sudden chill run over me when she smiled so strangely? Why could I not confess all to her, even when she seemed so kind? What unknown thing gripped my heart, grasped my throat! . . . That is strange, that is strange indeed . . . But one thing is certain—that I shall save him! O joy unutterable! (She goes out quickly.)
Change of Scene
A rugged mountain peak. Radúz on a huge crag. From the iron band about him hangs a chain, which is forged into the cliff behind Radúz. A single tree grows from the rocks on one side, lower than the crag on which Radúz is half standing, half lying exhausted.
Radúz.—Blow, wind, blow, mighty eagle of God; tear my hair and take my breath: why shouldst thou have more compassion than have men! Thou, tempest art now my only friend, since my feverish cries have already frightened all the birds from their nests! Formerly some one of them would at times brush by chance against my brow with its wing, and it seemed to me then that the loving hand of a mother sought to wipe away the sweat, as in a grievous illness! O, the unutterable anguish of this solitude! An unfathomable void yawns above me, a dizzy gulf yawns below! That measureless space is terrible; it is too great a weight for a weak creature like man; and to gaze without end
