Act 3 — Scene 1.

The Queen sits on the platform with her distaff before her, and gazes dreamily into the red glow, which shines through the window. Two old women sit spinning before the fire-place, in which a dying fire glimmers. Anna Goldhair and the young Prince on the steps of the platform. Through the drawn curtains plays the red evening light.

The Young Prince. Say, mother, will the father come soon?

Queen. Of course.

The Young Prince. Will he come before my bed-time?

Queen. I do not know.

The Young Prince. The wood is full of darkness, is it not?

Queen. Where our King goes, there is always light!... What, Anna, art thou eavesdropping? Must I blush before thee, because I voiced a cry out of my soul's longing, which envious time would smother?

Anna Goldhair. Beloved Queen.... I know well that I am too young; my little thoughts whisk twittering like swallows through my head,--

The Young Prince. And she pretends to me she is so wise!

Queen. Run, run, my child!

The Young Prince. I will get her by the hair first! [He tugs at Anna's hair. Anna Goldhair pushes him off laughing.] Just wait! [He runs from her to the spinning-women, and teases them.]

Anna Goldhair. But if thou hast need of any one to whisper to, in whose breast at the still evening-time to plunge thine overflowing soul--of anyone who if need were, could go for thee to her death as to a feast,--thou knowest, dearest Queen, I am that one!

Queen [caressing her]. Yes, deep in my heart I know that thou art mine. [She rises.] But if it be death here for any human being, I am that one!

Anna Goldhair [frightened]. What troubles thee, beloved Lady? [Three maidens, young and pretty, have entered shyly.]

Queen. It is nothing,--nothing!... Why, here! What seek you my children?... What not a word? Have you a favor to be granted, a complaint to make? If you cannot speak, why then you must go away again!

Anna Goldhair. Mistress forgive them. They are of thy train, and they have asked me to plead for them, lest their too eager speech should lose for them the favor they desire.

Queen. Well?

Anna Goldhair. Dear Mistress, there is an old custom that runs thus: when Easter-tide has come into the land, when the thorn bush grows faintly green, when the blue wave shines bluer, when our desire takes wing to sport among the flying things of spring,--that then, upon the coming of the first full moon, the night must be watched out with sport and dance. In a word they would sing.

Queen [smiling]. Ah, yes!... But tell me, dear children, if you knew it, then why did this custom vanish from the land so many years?

Anna Goldhair. We honored thy sorrow, my Queen.

Queen. Well, then, go out and dance and frolic and sing together all night long! Know you the song that you should sing?

[The maidens nod eagerly.]

Queen. Go out and drink the moonlight as it pours down through the branches; I think we little know how blessed we are.

[The maidens courtesy and kiss her hands and garments.]

Queen [as she turns away smiling]. Why are you old ones shivering? Why look you so strange? Is it cold? Then you must rake the fire!

One of the Old Women. Mistress, we spin our winding-sheets. Shall we not be cold?

Queen [drawing the young Prince to her]. Do not listen to them! [Cölestin enters.]

The Young Prince. Oh, Uncle Cölestin! [Runs to him.] What hast thou brought me, Uncle Cölestin?

Cölestin [lifting him up]. A great sandman, and a small goodnight!

Queen. The King is come? Thou wouldst announce him?

Cölestin. No, my Lady. We heard his horn in the distance, but it died away again. I come before thee a gloomy messenger. In the great hall beyond there waits the council of the realm....

Queen. Stop! You, my women, seek your rest; my son, to bed!

The Young Prince. And am I not to see the father again till morning? Ah, mother, please!

Queen. If thou canst not sleep, Anna shall take thee up and bring thee here. Is it well so, dear one?

The Young Prince. Yes.

Queen. And goodnight!

[The Prince, Anna Goldhair, and the women go out.]

Queen. We are alone ... yet what a pity with too cool reason to chill the buds of the May evening, which plunges all the waking soul into sweet sickness.... But speak!

Cölestin. Lady, I know not how I shall begin. The words come stumbling from my lips. Thou knowest how we love him, and how, since thou hast given him thyself, there is no single life but stands prepared to serve him without a thought of self. And how does he reward us? He shuns our glance, a smouldering suspicion breaks out whenever we would speak in seriousness to him, and throws its shadows on us darkly. The people idolize him. They greet him, great and small, with clapping hands and waving kerchiefs,--why must we stand aloof? Is he ashamed of us?--or of himself? I know not. A mysterious sadness clouds his eye so falcon-bright, and even while our hearts still yearn upon him, he grows a stranger to us, who was never our friend.

Queen. It is your too easily wounded love complains of him.

Cölestin. If that danger--

Queen [without listening to him]. I see it, but I scarce can blame it. I blame no one. I have built for myself out of dreams and smiles a strong strong wall, outside of which you wait, thieves of my happiness--nay, my friend, look not so grieved!--and out of which you know not how to lure me, either by cunning or by clamor.

Cölestin. Still, hast thou never come upon that knowledge, deep within thy heart, which tells thee how in everything that is and was and needs must be throughout our lives, a never expiated wrong must weigh us down?

Queen. Never, my friend! In my soul there rings but one harp-tone, one voice, which says: be happy!

Cölestin. And thy oath, Lady?

Queen. My oath?

Cölestin. Didst thou not swear before us all and in the sight of heaven that he who hurled his rival to the earth, not he who lay there shameful in defeat, might dare approach thee as thy lord and king?

Queen. But tell me, my dear friend, did he not conquer?

Cölestin. What madness has so blurred events for thee?

Queen. I know he conquered, for he is here!

Cölestin. Here indeed he is, but with what right?

Queen. The right that raised for him in that dark hour when the cruel wound gaped in his throat, a faithful servant to avenge him; a servant whose brave shout and lifted blade have taught me this one thing: high above the right there stands the sword, and high above the sword stands love!

Cölestin. May this wisdom please the Omnipotent, and may he pity thee, and all of us!

Queen. It was not given to everyone to know it; but it has brought the King to me! Hark, do I hear a horn? How near it sounds! My King is coming! My King is here!