is my country: there in silent meditation stand the tall ancient forests, in which dark shadows abide; and the doors of my father’s house I have shut behind me, which shall never again fly open to welcome my entrance!
Radúz.—Mahulena, Mahulena, do not grieve! Is it possible that my joy should make thee sorrowful?
Mahulena.—No, Radúz, not thy joy, but something else. . . . (Seats herself on a stone.) Now for the first time do I feel weariness. Come, sit beside me and let me rest. . . . This is strange! Now methinks that I should wish that those deep forests through which we have wandered for three days might still cover us with their damp twilight. There we were so alone, alone. We belonged to each other so inseparably, so completely. Hand in hand we walked together; and if I fancied that I heard footsteps somewhere on the moss, then frightened I nestled thus to thee, so closely; and when thine arms embraced me, then I firmly believed that for me there was no danger in all the wide world, since thy smile told me so tenderly and so proudly that thou wert protecting me!
Radúz.—But now the danger has all passed by: why then does that pensive shadow lie upon thy forehead? Why dost thou not glow with joy like my sunny meadow?
Mahulena.—Thy land is sunny; yes, dear Radúz, thy land—but I am a stranger in it.
Radúz.—Why with such words dost thou sadden my heart? Thou a stranger, where I am at home?
Mahulena.—Radúz, forgive me. (Throws her arm about his neck.) ‘Thou knowest not what thou art to me, my soul! Thou art my brother, my father, my mother, my all! My heart overflowed with tenderness even from childhood; and nowhere, never did my love find an echo until thou camest, like that star at dusk, like that swallow from afar, which beneath your cornice yonder has its nest! Thou, Radúz, art my whole family, art my home. Though I am an outcast from the bosom of all love, yet thou to me art more than an atonement! Radúz, thou art my breath, mine eyes! Without thee I am as this stone, blind, deaf, dead. To thee I cling for support, my Radúz! The dark cloud of that awful curse—
Radúz.—Cease, Mahulena: that curse belongs to the past and is lost in the twilight of the Tatra forests, which likewise I curse—
