I've earned the right to see what crawled and writhed, Suddenly leap into a phantom charge! [_Noise as of a cavalcade. The_ VOICES, _which before were lugubrious, now call to each other with commands and signals._] THE VOICES. Forward! [_The drums of the wind beat the charge._] THE DUKE. The pomp and pageantry of battle, The dust that's raised by charging cavalry! VOICES. Charge! THE DUKE. The wild laughter of the fierce Hussars! VOICES. [_In a shout of epic laughter._] Ha! Ha! THE DUKE. Now, Goddess of the hundred mouths, Victory, from whose lips I've torn the gag, Sing in the distance! VOICES. [_Far away._] Form battalions! THE DUKE. [_Upright in the first glow of dawn._] Glory! O God, to battle in this blaze! VOICES. Fire!--Half-columns, by your right, advance! THE DUKE. To battle in this tumult you commanded! O Father! Father!-- [_Amid the noise of battle, which is dying away in the distance, a haughty, metallic voice is heard, preceded and followed by a roll of drums._] THE VOICE. Officers--and--men! THE DUKE. [_In wild delirium, drawing his sword._] I come!--I fight!--Laugh, fife! and banners wave! Fix bayonets! Fall on the whitecoats! Forward! [_And while the dream-sounds die away toward the right, swept by the wind, all of a sudden, on the left, a real military band bursts out; and abruptly, like the awaking out of a dream, there is the contrast between the furious battle-music of the French, and a tame march of Schubert's Austrian and dance-like, drawing near in the rosy glow of the morning._] THE DUKE. [_Who has turned with a shudder._] What white thing marching through the dawning day? The Austrian Infantry! [_Beside himself, and urging along imaginary Grenadiers_.] Ha! Up! and at them! The enemy!--Fall on them!---Crush them! Follow on! Follow on! We'll pass across their bodies! [_With his sword high he rushes at the first ranks of an Austrian regiment which appears on the road._] AN OFFICER. [_Throwing himself on the_ DUKE _and stopping him._] For God's sake. Prince!--This is your regiment! THE DUKE. [_As if awakening._] Ah--? This is my--? [_He falls back; passes his hand across his forehead, and gazes wildly at the white soldiers who march past to the sound of the fife. He sees his destiny, and accepts it. The arm he had raised for the charge sinks slowly, his fist falls on his hip; his sword falls into the regulation position, and, stiff as an automaton, with a toneless and mechanical voice, the voice of an Austrian officer, he cries:_] Halt! Front turn! Eyes right! THE CURTAIN FALLS AS THE DRILL BEGINS. [Illustration: large N with a crown above] [Illustration] THE SIXTH ACT