[Advances to the middle of the stage, and looks around him with uneasiness.

She's not here!

Where is she?

Coun.

Look but somewhat narrowly

Max.

There lie her gloves!

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

[Snatches at them, but the Countess takes them herself.

You unkind Lady! You refuse me this

You make it an amusement to torment me.

Coun. 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!

Coun.
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.

Where is she?

Coun.

But wherefore comes she not?

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 concentre
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-0!

They are such wearying toys!

Coun.

But, gentle friend!

I must intreat 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,
Oppress'd 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 heaven's gate,*

I am doubtful whether this be the dedication of the cloister, or

Thither I went, there found myself alone.
Over the altar hung a 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.

Coun. 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.
Coun. 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!"

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 ólunder, I add the original:—

Es ist ein Kloster hier zur Himmelsyforte.

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 control 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.

Coun. (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?

Coun. 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?

SCENE IV.

THEKLA (hurries forward), COUNTESS, MAX. PICCOLOMINI.

Thek. (to the Countess). Spare yourself the trouble. That hears he better from myself.

Max. (stepping backward). My Princess!

What have you let her hear me say, aunt Tertsky?
Thek. (to the Countess). Has he been here long?
Coun.
Yes; and soon must go.
Where have you stay'd so long?

Thek.

Alas! my mother

Wept so again! and I-I see her suffer,

Yet cannot keep myself from being happy.

Max. Now once again I have courage to look on you. To-day at noon I could not.

The dazzle of the jewels that play'd round you
Hid the beloved from me.

Thek.

Then you saw me

With your eye only—and not with your heart?
Max. This morning, when I found you in the circle
Of all your kindred, in your father's arms,

Beheld myself an alien in this circle,
O! what an impulse felt I in that moment
To fall upon his neck, to call him father!
But his stern eye o'erpower'd thes welling passion--
It dar'd not but be silent. And those brilliants,
That like a crown of stars enwreath'd your brows,
They scar'd me too! O wherefore, wherefore should he
At the first meeting spread as 'twere the bann
Of excommunication round you, wherefore
Dress up the angel as for sacrifice,

And cast upon the light and joyous heart
The mournful burthen of his station? Fitly
May love dare woo for love; but such a splendour
Might none but monarchs venture to approach.

Thek. Hush! not a word more of this mummery. You see how soon the burthen is thrown off. (to the Countess).

He is not in spirits. Wherefore is he not?

'Tis you, aunt, that have made him all so gloomy! He had quite another 1 ature on the journey—

So calm, so bright, so joyous eloquent.

(to Max).

It was my wish to see you always so,
And never otherwise.!