SERVANT (enters).

The Colonel Piccolomini.

COUNTESS (hastily).

Must wait.

WALLENST.

I cannot see him now.  Another time.

SERVANT.

But for two minutes he entreats an audience: 
Of the most urgent nature is his business.

WALLENST.

Who knows what he may bring us!  I will hear him.

COUNTESS (laughs).

Urgent for him, no doubt? but thou may’st wait.

WALLENST.

What is it?

COUNTESS.

Thou shalt be inform’d hereafter. 
First let the Swede and thee be compromised.

[Exit SERVANT.]

WALLENST.

If there were yet a choice! if yet some milder
Way of escape were possible—­I still
Will choose it, and avoid the last extreme.

COUNTESS.

Desirest thou nothing further?  Such a way
Lies still before thee.  Send this Wrangel off. 
Forget thou thy old hopes, cast far away
All thy past life; determine to commence
A new one.  Virtue hath her heroes too,
As well as fame and fortune.—­To Vienna
Hence—­to the Emperor—­kneel before the throne
Take a full coffer with thee—­say aloud,
Thou didst but wish to prove thy fealty;
Thy whole intention but to dupe the Swede.

ILLO.

For that too ’tis too late.  They know too much;
He would but bear his own head to the block.

COUNTESS.

I fear not that.  They have not evidence
To attaint him legally, and they avoid
The avowal of an arbitrary power. 
They’ll let the Duke resign without disturbance. 
I see how all will end.  The King of Hungary
Makes his appearance, and ’twill of itself
Be understood that then the Duke retires. 
There will not want a formal declaration;
The young King will administer the oath
To the whole army; and so all returns
To the old position.  On some morrow morning
The Duke departs; and now ’tis stir and bustle
Within his castles.  He will hunt, and build,
And superintend his horses’ pedigrees;
Creates himself a court, gives golden keys,
And introduces strictest ceremony
In fine proportions, and nice etiquette;
Keeps open table with high cheer:  in brief,
Commences mighty King—­in miniature. 
And while he prudently demeans himself,
And gives himself no actual importance,
He will be let appear whate’er he likes;
And who dares doubt that Friedland will appear
A mighty Prince to his last dying hour? 
Well now, what then?  Duke Friedland is as others,
A fire-new Noble, whom the war hath raised
To price and currency, a Jonah’s gourd,
An over-night creation of court-favor,
Which with an undistinguishable ease
Makes Baron or makes Prince.

WALLENSTEIN (in extreme agitation).

Take her away. 
Let in the young Count Piccolomini.