COUNTESS (gazing on him).
If it should come to that—­if I should see thee,
Who standest now before me in the fulness
Of life—­

[She falls on his breast and weeps.]

WALLENST.

The Emperor’s proclamation weighs upon thee—­
Alphabets wound not—­and he finds no hands.

COUNTESS.

If he should find them, my resolve is taken—­
I bear about me my support and refuge.

[Exit COUNTESS.]

SCENE IV

WALLENSTEIN, GORDON

WALLENST.

All quiet in the town?

GORDON.

The town is quiet.

WALLENST.

I hear a boisterous music! and the Castle
Is lighted up.  Who are the revellers?

GORDON.

There is a banquet given at the Castle
To the Count Terzky and Field Marshal Illo.

WALLENST.

In honor of the victory—­This tribe
Can show their joy in nothing else but feasting.

[Rings.  The GROOM OF THE CHAMBER enters.]

Unrobe me.  I will lay me down to sleep.

[WALLENSTEIN takes the keys from GORDON.]

So we are guarded from all enemies,
And shut in with sure friends;
For all must cheat me, or a face like this

[Fixing his eye on GORDON.]

Was ne’er a hypocrite’s mask.

[The GROOM OF THE CHAMBER takes off his mantle, collar, and scarf.]

WALLENSTEIN.

Take care—­what is that?

GROOM OF THE CHAMBER.

The golden chain is snapped in two.

WALLENST.

Well, it has lasted long enough.  Here—­give it.

[He takes and looks at the chain.]

’Twas the first present of the Emperor. 
He hung it round me in the war of Friule,
He being then Archduke; and I have worn it
Till now from habit—­
From superstition, if you will.  Belike,
It was to be a talisman to me;
And while I wore it on my neck in faith,
It was to chain to me all my life long
The volatile fortune, whose first pledge it was—­
Well, be it so!  Henceforward a new fortune
Must spring up for me; for the potency
Of this charm is dissolved.

[GROOM OF THE CHAMBER retires with the vestments. WALLENSTEIN rises, takes a stride across the room, and stands at last before GORDON in a posture of meditation.]

How the old time returns upon me!  I
Behold myself once more at Burgau, where
We two were Pages of the Court together. 
We oftentimes disputed:  thy intention
Was ever good; but thou wert wont to play
The Moralist and Preacher, and wouldst rail at me—­
That I strove after things too high for me,
Giving my faith to bold unlawful dreams,
And still extol to me the golden mean—­
Thy wisdom hath been proved a thriftless friend
To thy own self.  See, it has made thee early
A superannuated man, and (but
That my munificent stars will intervene)
Would let thee in some miserable corner
Go out like an untended lamp.