Act 4 — Scene 1.

Anna Goldhair cowering with covered face in the shadow of the throne. Hans Lorbass and Cölestin enter from the landing.

Hans Lorbass. Master!... No answer.

Cölestin. His lair is empty. The hall seems forsaken. Nothing, but the sighing of the autumn wind. Not even a trace of the women that herd with him.

Hans Lorbass. And before the door, the foe.

Cölestin. We are to suffer for his sins.

Hans Lorbass. Pah!--We!

Cölestin. Since he so far betrayed morality as to draw to his lustful embraces the young maid with the golden hair, even from the very feet of his most virtuous spouse, it has gone ill with him and us. For half a year this shameless wanton bond has blazoned itself beneath this roof.

Hans Lorbass. If I choose to cry him down, why it is my affair. I advise thee, old man, to let it be.

Cölestin. Have I ever yet mingled with the crowd that boldly raise their heads against him? But now the foe hangs at our very heels,--and he, instead of showing fist in need, buries a thorn in our own flesh;-- must I still be silent?

Hans Lorbass. Gabble or not, as thou choosest. Dost thou think the slime out of thy old mouth can make him slippery enough to--

Cölestin. Hark! [A muffled drum-beat]. The morning signal of the foe!

Hans Lorbass [stretching out his arms]. Come, mighty hour!

Cölestin. There is one way ... some one might ... with more influence than I ... seek out the King and fetch him here. The tardy day still lies in heavy sleep . . wilt thou go? [Hans Lorbass nods.]

Cölestin. Good! [Going out.] I am cold.

Hans Lorbass. What? All empty?... Thou shadow there, give answer what thou art. What, Goldhair, thou? Asleep here on the stones? Where is the King?... The King, where is he?

Anna Goldhair [gets up trembling]. I do not know.

Hans Lorbass. Is he asleep somewhere?

Anna Goldhair. No.

Hans Lorbass. Where have the women gone, then,--those wanton flaunting blossoms of his?

Anna Goldhair. He sprang up from the table to-night and drove them out with scourging.

Hans Lorbass. How was he before that?

Anna Goldhair. His greeting long since stiffened into silence and sternness. All night long his feet have wandered up and down the echoing passages.

Hans Lorbass. And to-night--which way did he go?

[Anna Goldhair motions towards the left.]

Hans Lorbass. Give me a light.

Anna Goldhair [as she takes a taper from the table and gives it to him]. Hans!

Hans Lorbass. Well?

Anna Goldhair. Hans--dost thou know what the Queen says of me?

Hans Lorbass. Queens are no friends of thine; the women will have none of thee now. Thou'dst best befriend thyself, and be thine own queen. [He goes out.]

[Anna Goldhair cowers down again in the shadow of the throne. Then, from behind, the King.]

King [coming forward]. When I was yet a little boy I loved to put my ear down to the earth and shudder at the danger coming toward me in the thunder of the horses' hoofs. Even so now, the voice of the north wind wails aloud in the chimney how grim-visored death stands threatening upon my outer wall.... Was it for this the sea once rolled in music to my feet, for this my drawn sword thrilled in my hand, for this a woman beckoned me from out the clouds,--that here in this corner my young and lusty body should rot away to naught? Patience yet! I know my revenge! Though every broil burst out here, though my life itself were forfeit, though I became a very brute, scurvy and bleeding, goaded to despair, yet justice should be done! Only wait! I will die right joyfully, but fight--I will not. [He sees Anna Goldhair.] What, Goldhair, thou awake? Come here!--Come, I command thee! Thou wast no joyous guest at the feast, I warrant. Nor I.... Do not speak, Goldhair.... Hush! Lest they believe I vaunt my sin. But then, what they believe is naught to me. Come, give me thy hand. Thou art fettered to me,--yet thou wast only a plaything, only a splinter of glass wherein I saw my image, only the last string of a broken lute.... Lean down. I will entrust something to thy care: here, under my doeskin corselet I carry a treasure. It is not much to see, neither gold nor precious stone,--only a feather. I won it once, it was a prize,--that was long since.... Enough, that it was precious to me. If I should come to harm to-day, take it and throw it in the fire. Wilt thou?

Anna Goldhair. Yes, sire.

King. I thank thee. [Caressing her.] Why dost thou shroud thy pretty hair with a grey veil? It is still golden. Dost thou thus seek to shroud dreams of the past? What look'st thou at so? [Whispers.] Is thy sorrow for thy Queen.

[Anna Goldhair hides her face in her hands, shuddering.]

King. Then cease thy grief ... methinks the sword already clangs without to bring thee peace.

Hans Lorbass. Master.

King. Thou, Hans, here in my tower, which thou hast so avoided? What brings thee here?

Hans Lorbass. We are attacked. The Duke has surrounded the castle by night with a thousand men. The battering-ram and beam had even begun their cursed work, when suddenly there came a lull, and by the glow of torches we saw upon the plain a white flag held aloft upon a lance-point. We held communication a spear's length from the camp. There he stood, murder in his glance, and there stood Sköll and Gylf, and all the other vermin that have crawled to his feet; and he rolled his eyes, gnashing his teeth like a nut-cracker--Heaven send we're not the nut!

King. What offer did he make?

Hans Lorbass. A respite until day-break, in which time to yield thyself and me into his hands.

King. Me, Hans, and alone.

Hans Lorbass And if they yield he will allow his heart to melt with pity; he will butter on both sides the bread of all the people who will shout for him. That is his way; all innocence, like the rest of us.

King. And if?

Hans Lorbass. If not? He swore,--and here his spleen burst out--that let a single sword be raised against him, a single spear be laid in rest, and he would hang and quarter every living, breathing thing, without mercy. This he calls choking rebellion in the seed.

King. And what was the decision of the people?

Hans Lorbass. The people will fight.

King. Will fight? Will fight? This flock of nestlings, lacking in every sort of strength, inspired by no courage-breeding fire, wanting in power, in discipline,--

Hans Lorbass. Like their King himself.

King. Like their King himself. Quite true. The shadow of a King, set on the throne by woman's love, is not the man to lead a forlorn hope.

Hans Lorbass. Though his people offer themselves to the sword for him.

King. Take care; I have outgrown thy scorn. [Knocking on the door to the right.]

Cölestin [outside]. Open the door for the King's son.

Hans Lorbass. Shall I?

King. Thou must. This house is his; and if he chose to, he could drive me hence.

[Cölestin enters, leading in the young Prince by the hand. It is gradually growing light.]

The Young Prince [running to Anna Goldhair]. Anna! Ah, Anna, art thou here? The mother told me thou wast dead. Say. Anna, art thou vexed with me? I eat my supper all alone, I say my prayers and go to bed all alone. I sing alone, I play alone,--and oh, the mother weeps so much! They said my father had been cruel to her,--how sorry he would be to see her weep! Anna, dear Anna, come and help us, for we are so sad!

[Anna Goldhair kneels down before him and sobs on his neck.]

King. What now?

Cölestin. My Prince, my little Prince!

King. Well?

Cölestin. Nay, with her thou canst have no concern. Thou knowest to whom thy mother sent thee, and what she graved so deep upon thy heart.

The Young Prince [timidly approaching the King]. My mother called me very early, and bid me come to thee before my breakfast with Uncle Cölestin, and kneel down here before thee, and ask thee--something,--I forget.

Cölestin. Then, my lord, according to the measure of my wisdom I must speak here for this child, who in his innocence cannot comprehend how basely thou hast forsaken thy people. I must embolden myself to speak a last warning to thee. I speak not of the sins that now already weigh thee down: eternal God shall judge them, for thou mayst not sin and not atone. But even now thy spirit, corroded with rancorous spite, hast turned the edge of our ancestral sword against thy honor and thy manhood. Lo, there it glistens in thy burning grasp; and to that all-avenging sword I make my prayer: to the arm where still resides our safety: to the eyes from which looks out an unquenched thirst of fighting: that thou wilt lead to victory thy broken people, who surround the tower and call upon thee in their need.

King. The sword that I unthinking raised--led thereto by occasion only--I will lay down still clean. Thou callest it the all-avenging; and it shall win that praise itself. Let the foe mow you down in sheaves, it shall be naught to me,--it comes too late.

Cölestin. Good! Though thou so hatest thy people--

King. I hate ye not.

Cölestin. As to appease thy long-cherished revenge by scornful laughter in their hour of need, yet one thing I shall never think, sir King,--that thou wilt yield without a struggle, and give up thy weaponless body to the slaughter.

King. What can I otherwise? In whose blood shall I dip this body to make it consecrate? With what right shall I plunge this sword into fiery service? He who stands without there serves a righteous cause. So sayest thou. The Chancellor, likewise. You all agree. Therefore I counsel thee: be wise, rescue your country and make clean your house. There is still time ... the storm yet lulls. The Duke has need of me; deliver me to him.

Cölestin. All my strength is broken against this madness, which destroys itself.... And the hour presses.... What can I do? The crowd shrieks lamentations in my ear. Kneel down, my child, stretch out thy arms,--perhaps, that silent picture will reach this heart. [He makes the young Prince kneel down.]

King. Stand up. . . Come here. . . Thou hast stood in my way, and yet I loved thee. A madness, an absurdity! [Aside.] Suppose: if thou wert not,--if in this coming hour I might but strike a blow for my own throne.... Where now?

The young Prince [clinging to Hans]. I am afraid.

Hans Lorbass [gazing at the King]. There is the pinch. [Going up to him, aside]. And if---

King. If--what?

Hans Lorbass. If through some chance, quite unforseen, this land should all at once become thine own, entirely thine?

King [bewildered]. What dost thou mean?

Hans Lorbass. Well then, if that should disappear that stands in thy way? [Bursting out.] Then wouldst thou take thy sword in both thy hands and storm exulting on the foe?... Well?

King. I understand thee not.

Hans Lorbass. Then--

King. Silence, silence! Thou knowest I have quenched the last embers of my desires. Thinkest thou to kindle a new blaze thereon by victory and sin? A fire must run from heaven, must mount from hell, to light a new life in my fading course. A thing of horror must first come to pass; whence it came would be as naught to me, if it could but rise wonder-like upon my sight. Alas, from out these ashes no miracle can rise for me! I can no longer hope and struggle.... The door stands open to the upper room.... Once more I mount up to the height, once more behold the gray dawn turn to gold in rosy glory--

Hans Lorbass. Wilt thou come back?

King. Nay, didst thou not think so? I--[As Cölestin with the young Prince puts himself in the way.] Away with the child!--I must die! [Goes out.]

Hans Lorbass [to himself]. "A thing of horror must first come to pass." And then, "If I might strike a blow for my own throne." "If thou wert not." And looked at him with such eyes!--Cölestin, if I had something to ask--thou knowest, perhaps, the King will yield to me--more than--in short, I am beloved by him--

Cölestin. Good reason for it.

Hans Lorbass. Yes. Then what if I knew how to goad him into harness, so that even before the hour had struck, he had the Bastard by the throat with your all-avenging sword?

Cölestin. It would be possible? Thou couldst?

Hans Lorbass. Yes. But I need the Prince.

Cölestin. The Princeling,--why?

Hans Lorbass. With him by the hand I would sit there on the landing and hold watch till he came down.

Cölestin. And then?

Hans Lorbass. Then, Major-domo,--that is my affair.

Cölestin. The Queen left him in my care. But I know, Hans Lorbass that thou lovest him. Wilt thou, my little Prince?

The Young Prince. Dost thou ask me? I love to stay with him,--he teaches me to fight. [He runs to him.]

Cölestin. And may God bless thee in thy task.

Hans Lorbass. Much thanks. [Turning to Anna Goldhair.] I do not want her. Take her with thee.

Cölestin. Come, poor wench.

The Young Prince. May Anna stay here, too?

[Hans Lorbass hushes him.]

Anna Goldhair. Oh, Cölestin, if I could hide somewhere, and see my dear Queen pass by just once!

Cölestin. Spare me thy plaints.... Well, wait, I will hide thee here behind the curtains of the door; stay there, and do not move, and when she goes to the cathedral--come, come!

[Cölestin and Anna Goldhair go out.]

Hans Lorbass [grimly]. My Prince!

The Young Prince [tenderly]. My Hans!

Hans Lorbass. And still it grips me cruelly hard.

The Young Prince. What is it thou grumblest in thy beard? Come, let us fight.

Hans Lorbass. Let us fight, child! If thou knewest how to fight indeed!

The Young Prince. How strange thou art to-day? Say, Hans, is it true that a cruel enemy stands before the gate?

Hans Lorbass. Quite true.

The Young Prince. Will he come inside?

Hans Lorbass. Not yet. Before long.

The Young Prince. How long?

Hans Lorbass. Until the drums sound the attack.

The Young Prince. Soon?

Hans Lorbass. Very soon.

The Young Prince. Oh, that is splendid! And why did the father go up to his tower?

Hans Lorbass. Because ... If I knew whether this young blood would be poured out in vain. To every foulness God created he has given a tongue to shriek: "Behold my purpose!" And such a deed as this to-day ... but no! "If thou wert not!"

The Young Prince. If I were not,--what then?

Hans Lorbass. Wha--? Why? His sick desires, his failing deeds, the dreams that mock his brain, that make the right seem wrong,--if he might see a wish of his become a fact, as if by magic power, perhaps that knowledge of renewed strength might scatter his gloom to its accursed source and set him free. Now show thy worth and bleed here quietly on my breast--what dost thou there!

The Young Prince [playing about meanwhile has drawn the sword from its sheath]. I am learning to carry the King's sword. Forward! Hasten, the foe will come! Very well. Then I shall be the victor.

Hans Lorbass. Put it down!

The Young Prince. Ah, no!

Hans Lorbass. Put it down!

The Young Prince. Oh-oo! That is sharp!

Hans Lorbass. Thou knowest who alone may carry that?

The Young Prince. The King.

Hans Lorbass. Well then.

The Young Prince. But he left it there!

Hans Lorbass [sternly]. To take it up again. [Draws his sword.]

The Young Prince. Wait! I will kill thee! [He has grasped the sword in both hands, and thrusting at Hans, who does not see him, he wounds him on the hand.]

Hans Lorbass [laughing grimly]. The fiend torment--

The Young Prince. Thou bleedest--O me!

Hans Lorbass. The very weakness of this child avenges itself in death.

The Young Prince. Wilt thou not scold me! [Unfastening his neckerchief] Take my kerchief,--ah, please! Wrap it about thy hand. Quick!

Hans Lorbass. Is it intended for a sign to me to turn back in my path? The wish was there, but who knows when he cherished it, whether he was not so rent by torment, so quite unmanned as to harbor a thought that sprang therefrom? He must ... Yea, and I must. The hour will slip away.... [Drums sound in the distance.] Hark, hark! There it is,--the time has come. [Drums.] Again!

The Young Prince. Is that the signal?

Hans Lorbass. What signal?

The Young Prince. For the attack?

Hans Lorbass. Yes. For the attack and--

The Young Prince. What happiness! Is it not, Hans! If I were grown! If I were a man!

Hans Lorbass. Come here!

The Young Prince. Why dost thou look at me so sternly? Just like the father.... Wouldst thou strike me? No, thou shalt not.... I am a king's son.

Hans Lorbass. Come here!

The Young Prince. I am not afraid. [Goes to him.] Just think, the people say the father hates me. I believe it not. Whatever he should do, I know right well he loves me,--even as much as thou, my Hans. [Throws his arms around him.]

Hans Lorbass. How dost thou know?

The Young Prince. What, Hans?

Hans Lorbass. About the father.

The Young Prince. Listen! One night, quite lately, when I had been a little while in my bed, and was all alone, only think!--he came very softly within my chamber. I was afraid, because I had not seen him in so long, and all the people said: "The King is wicked." But he stood there before my bed and looked at me,--Hans, what is all that noise?

Hans Lorbass. Hasten,--thou knowest not what it means to thee!

The Young Prince. And looked at me so stern and wild that I was frightened and pretended that I slept. Then he leaned over me, so low that I had nearly died of fright, and then,--only think, my Hansel,--he kissed me. Here on my forehead, on my hair and both my cheeks, and then very softly went away.

Hans Lorbass. Thy good angel put the words into thy mouth! Could he do so, my little man, then 'twas a fever in his blood that spoke to-day,--no hate of thee!... It seems as though thou wert even dearer to me now,--and yet my thoughts have scarce deserved it. [Clasps him to him.] Now let me, let ... There below they call upon thy father, and he ... I have it! I will take thee in my arms and show thee to the leaderless throng below, him who shall lead them when his form rears itself kinglike and his brow darkens. Come then! Friend, if thy King fights not for thee to-day, then fight thou for thy King! [He raises him in his arms and hurries with him down the steps.]