Wallenstein/The Piccolomini/A2S03

by Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller

SCENE III.

Countess, Max. Piccolomini.

MAX. (peeping in on the stage shily.)

Aunt Tertsky! may I venture?

(Advances to the middle of the stage, and looks
around him with uneasiness.)
She's not here!
Where is she?

COUNTESS.

Look but somewhat narrowly

In yonder corner, lest perhaps she lie
Conceal'd behind that screen.

MAX.

There lie her gloves!

(Snatches at them, but the Countess takes them
herself.)
You unkind Lady! You refuse me this—
You make it an amusement to torment me.

COUNTESS.

And this the thank you give me for my trouble?

MAX.

O, if you felt the oppression at my heart!

Since we've been here, so to constrain myself—
With such poor stealth to hazard words and glances—
These, these are not my habits!

COUNTESS.

You have still

Many new habits to acquire, young friend!

But on this proof of your obedient temper
I must continue to insist; and only
On this condition can I play the agent
For your concerns.

MAX.

But wherefore comes she not?

Where is she?

COUNTESS.

Into my hands you must place it

Whole and entire. Whom could you find, indeed,
More zealously affected to your interest?
No soul on earth must know it—not your father.
He must not above all.

MAX.

Alas! what danger?

Here is no face on which I might concenter
All, the enraptur'd soul stirs up within me.
O Lady! tell me. Is all chang'd around me;
Or is it only I?
I find myself,
As among strangers! Not a trace is left
Of all my former wishes, former joys.
Where has it vanish'd to? There was a time
When ev'n, methought, with such a world, as this,
I was not discontented. Now how flat!
How stale! No life, no bloom, no flavour in it!
My comrades are intolerable to me.
My father—Even to him I can say nothing.
My arms, my military duties—O!
They are such wearying toys!

COUNTESS.

But, gentle friend!

I must entreat it of your condescension,
You would be pleas'd to sink your eye, and favour
With one short glance or two this poor stale world,
Where even now much, and of much moment,
Is on the eve of its completion.

MAX.

Something,

I can't but know, is going forward round me.
I see it gath'ring, crowding, driving on,
In wild uncustomary movements. Well,
In due time, doubtless, it will reach even me.
Where think you I have been, dear lady? Nay,
No raillery. The turmoil of the camp,
The spring-tide of acquaintance rolling in,
The pointless jest, the empty conversation,
Oppressed and stifled me. I gasp'd for air—
I could not breathe—I was constrain'd to fly,
To seek a silence out for my full heart;
And a pure spot wherein to feel my happiness.
No smiling, Countess! In the church was I.
There is a cloister here to the ^[1]heaven's gate,
Thither I went, there found myself alone.
Over the altar hung an holy mother;
A wretched painting 'twas, yet 'twas the friend

That I was seeking in this moment. Ah,
How oft have I beheld that glorious form
In splendour, mid extatic worshippers;
Yet, still it mov'd me not! and now at once
Was my devotion cloudless as my love.

COUNTESS.

Enjoy your fortune and felicity!

Forget the world around you. Meantime, friendship
Shall keep strict vigils for you, anxious, active.
Only be manageable when that friendship
Points you the road to full accomplishment.
How long may it be since you declared your passion?

MAX.

This morning did I hazard the first word.

COUNTESS.

This morning the first time in twenty days?

MAX.

'Twas at that hunting-castle, betwixt here

And Nepomuck, where you had join'd us, and—
That was the last relay of the whole journey!
In a balcony we were standing mute,
And gazing out upon the dreary field:
Before us the dragoons were riding onward,
The safe-guard which the Duke had sent us—heavy
The inquietude of parting lay upon me,
And trembling ventur'd I at length these words:
This all reminds me, noble maiden, that
To-day I must take leave of my good fortune.

A few hours more, and you will find a father,
Will see yourself surrounded by new friends,
And I henceforth shall be but as a stranger,
Lost in the many—"Speak with my Aunt Tertsky!"
With hurrying voice she interrupted me.
She faulter'd. I beheld a glowing red
Possess her beautiful cheeks, and from the ground
Rais'd slowly up her eye met mine—no longer
Did I controul myself.

(The Princess Thekla appears at the door, and
remains standing, observed by the Countess,
but not by Piccolomini.)

With instant boldness

I caught her in my arms, my mouth touch'd her's;
There was a rustling in the room close by;
It parted us—'Twas you. What since has happened,
You know.

COUNTESS

(after a pause, with a stolen glance at Thekla.)

And is it your excess of modesty;
Or are you so incurious, that you do not
Ask me too of my secret?

MAX.

Of your secret?

COUNTESS.

Why, yes! When in the instant after you

I stepp'd into the room, and found my niece there,
What she in this first moment of the heart
Ta'en with surprise—

MAX.(with eagerness.)

Well?

1. I am doubtful whether this be the dedication of the cloister, or the name of one of the city gates, near which it stood. I have translated it in the former sense; but fearful of having made some blunder, I add the original.—Es ist ein Kloster hier zur Himmelspforte.