I feel some unknown, uncertain sorrow. . . . Why? My memory becomes clouded. . . .
Nyola.—Thou weepest for thy father. . . .
Radúz.—Yes; and yet something else now sends burning tears to mine eyes. . . .
Nyola. —Thou art all transformed. The expression of thy face is strange to me. Why didst thou shriek so wildly and why didst thou cast me aside?
Radúz.—I cast thee aside? Nay, in that thou art mistaken, dear mother. (Caressing her) For the comfort of thy lips I thirstily seek. . . . Perchance I had a rush of feverish thoughts such as sometimes great anguish will produce. . . . What happened I know not; but this, alas, is clear to me, that my father lies here on the bier and that my heart is bleeding. . . .
Nyola.—Well, lift once more the precious burden on your shoulders and let us make our way to the funeral pyre. Be thou, Radúz, my support now on this mournful journey. . . . (Hangs on his arm and leans against him. Both bend for a moment over the body, which Nyola again covers with the pall. Just then Mahulena appears in the meadow among the populace.)
Mahulena.—O, let me pass! O, mercifully let me pass! This anguish is killing me! Where is the palace? . . . Where is Radúz? . . . Where is your prince? O, there, there I see him, and my fear is ended!
Populace.—Back, mad girl! What doest thou? Art thou bereft of reason? Whither dost thou force thy way?
Mahulena.—O, gaze not so threateningly and terribly! I do but wish to go to him. . . . I was terrified unto death yonder in the forest and I flew after him. . . . You can see that I have scarcely caught my breath!
Populace.—Thy speech sounds somewhat foreign to us. Yet something like the warbling of birds soothes us in thy voice. . . . We are sorry for thee; thou gazest wanderingly, like one crazed. . . . Recover thy reason and stand quietly.
Mahulena.—No, no! Do but let me pass; you are hard! I wish to go to him; and if you will not let me pass immediately, then I shall struggle with you all! Radúz, hear me! Radúz, protect me, that I may rush to thee in my anguish!
Nyola.—Who disturbs the peace of this sacred hour?
Populace.—Take heed, foolish child, lest thou kindle the anger of those who are powerful!
