ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN. How? You still ignorant of what you were? Yet ran the rumor then on every side, That Prince Demetrius was still alive. Czar Boris trembled on his throne, and sent His sassafs to the frontiers, to keep Sharp watch on every traveller that stirred. Had not the tale its origin with you? Did you not give the rumor birth yourself? Had you not named to any that you were Demetrius? DEMETRIUS. I relate that which I know. If a report went forth I was alive, Then had some god been busy with the fame. Myself I knew not. In the prince's house, And in the throng of his retainers lost, I spent the pleasant springtime of my youth. In silent homage My heart was vowed to his most lovely daughter. Yet in those days it never dreamed to raise Its wildest thoughts to happiness so high. My passion gave offence to her betrothed, The Castellan of Lemberg. He with taunts Chafed me, and in the blindness of his rage Forgot himself so wholly as to strike me. Thus savagely provoked, I drew my sword; He, blind with fury, rushed upon the blade, And perished there by my unwitting hand. MEISCHEK. Yes, it was even so. DEMETRIUS. Mine was the worst mischance! A nameless youth, A Russian and a stranger, I had slain A grandee of the empire--in the house Of my kind patron done a deed of blood, And sent to death his son-in-law and friend. My innocence availed not; not the pity Of all his household, nor his kindness--his, The noble Palatine's,--could save my life; For it was forfeit to the law, that is, Though lenient to the Poles, to strangers stern. Judgment was passed on me--that judgment death. I knelt upon the scaffold, by the block; To the fell headsman's sword I bared my throat, And in the act disclosed a cross of gold, Studded with precious gems, which had been hung About my neck at the baptismal font. This sacred pledge of Christian redemption I had, as is the custom of my people, Worn on my neck concealed, where'er I went, From my first hours of infancy; and now, When from sweet life I was compelled to part, I grasped it as my only stay, and pressed it With passionate devotion to my lips. [The Poles intimate their sympathy by dumb show.