That lifts his hand against a timid female.
Laska. Bold youth! she’s mine.
Glycine. No, not my master yet, 240
But only is to be; and all, because
Two years ago my lady asked me, and
I promised her, not him; and if she’ll let me,
I’ll hate you, my lord’s steward.
Bethlen. Hush, Glycine!
Glycine. Yes, I do, Bethlen; for he just now brought 245
False witnesses to swear away your life:
Your life, and old Bathory’s too.
Bethlen. Bathory’s!
Where is my father? Answer, or —— Ha! gone!
[LASKA during this time retires from the Stage.
Glycine. Oh, heed not him! I saw you pressing onward,
And did but feign alarm. Dear gallant youth, 250
It is your life they seek!
Bethlen. My life?
Glycine. Alas,
Lady Sarolta even —
Bethlen. She does not know me!
Glycine. Oh that she did! she could not then have spoken
With such stern countenance. But though she spurn me,
I will kneel, Bethlen —
Bethlen. Not for me, Glycine! 255
What have I done? or whom have I offended?
Glycine. Rash words, ‘tis said, and treasonous of the king.
[BETHLEN mutters to himself.
Glycine (aside). So looks the statue, in our hall, o’ the god,
The shaft just flown that killed the serpent!
Bethlen. King!
Glycine. Ah, often have I wished you were a king. 260
You would protect the helpless every where,
As you did us. And I, too, should not then
Grieve for you, Bethlen, as I do; nor have
The tears come in my eyes; nor dream bad dreams
That you were killed in the forest; and then Laska 265
Would have no right to rail at me, nor say
(Yes, the base man, he says,) that I — I love you.
Bethlen. Pretty Glycine! wert thou not betrothed —
But in good truth I know not what I speak.
This luckless morning I have been so haunted 270
With my own fancies, starting up like omens,
That I feel like one, who waking from a dream
Both asks and answers wildly. — But Bathory?
Glycine. Hist! ‘tis my lady’s step! She must not see you!
[BETHLEN retires.
Enter from the Cottage SAROLTA and BATHORY.
Sarolta. Go, seek your son! I need not add, be speedy — 275
You here, Glycine? [Exit BATHORY.
Glycine. Pardon, pardon, Madam!
If you but saw the old man’s son, you would not,
You could not have him harmed.
Sarolta. Be calm, Glycine!
Glycine. No, I shall break my heart.
Sarolta. Ha! is it so?
O strange and hidden power of sympathy, 280
That of — like fates, though all unknown to each,
Dost make blind instincts, orphan’s heart to orphan’s
Drawing by dim disquiet!
Glycine. Old Bathory —
Sarolta. Seeks his brave son. Come, wipe away thy tears.
Yes, in good truth, Glycine, this same Bethlen 285
Seems a most noble and deserving youth.
Glycine. My lady does not mock me?
Sarolta. Where is Laska?
Has he not told thee?
Glycine. Nothing. In his fear —
Anger, I mean — stole off — I am so fluttered —
Left me abruptly —
Sarolta. His shame excuses him! 290
He is somewhat hardly tasked; and in discharging
His own tools, cons a lesson for himself.
Bathory and the youth henceforward live
Safe in my lord’s protection.
Glycine. The saints bless you!
Shame on my graceless heart! How dared I fear, 295
Lady Sarolta could be cruel?
Sarolta. Come,
Be yourself, girl!
Glycine. O, ‘tis so full here!
And now it can not harm him if I tell you,
That the old man’s son —
Sarolta. Is not that old man’s son!
A destiny, not unlike thine own, is his. 300
For all I know of thee is, that thou art
A soldier’s orphan: left when rage intestine
Shook and engulphed the pillars of Illyria.
This other fragment, thrown back by that same earthquake,
This, so mysteriously inscribed by nature, 305
Perchance may piece out and interpret thine.
