[_The maidens courtesy and kiss her hands and garments._] _Queen_ [_as she turns away smiling_]. Why are you old ones shivering? Why look you so strange? Is it cold? Then you must rake the fire! _One of the Old Women_. Mistress, we spin our winding-sheets. Shall we not be cold? _Queen_ [_drawing the young_ Prince _to her_]. Do not listen to them! [Coelestin _enters._] _The Young Prince_. Oh, Uncle Coelestin! [_Runs to him._] What hast thou brought me, Uncle Coelestin? _Coelestin_ [_lifting him up_]. A great sandman, and a small goodnight! _Queen_. The King is come? Thou wouldst announce him? _Coelestin_. No, my Lady. We heard his horn in the distance, but it died away again. I come before thee a gloomy messenger. In the great hall beyond there waits the council of the realm.... _Queen_. Stop! You, my women, seek your rest; my son, to bed! _The Young Prince_. And am I not to see the father again till morning? Ah, mother, please! _Queen_. If thou canst not sleep, Anna shall take thee up and bring thee here. Is it well so, dear one? _The Young Prince_. Yes. _Queen_. And goodnight! [_The_ Prince, Anna Goldhair, _and the women go out._] _Queen_. We are alone ... yet what a pity with too cool reason to chill the buds of the May evening, which plunges all the waking soul into sweet sickness.... But speak! _Coelestin_. Lady, I know not how I shall begin. The words come stumbling from my lips. Thou knowest how we love him, and how, since thou hast given him thyself, there is no single life but stands prepared to serve him without a thought of self. And how does he reward us? He shuns our glance, a smouldering suspicion breaks out whenever we would speak in seriousness to him, and throws its shadows on us darkly. The people idolize him. They greet him, great and small, with clapping hands and waving kerchiefs,--why must we stand aloof? Is he ashamed of us?--or of himself? I know not. A mysterious sadness clouds his eye so falcon-bright, and even while our hearts still yearn upon him, he grows a stranger to us, who was never our friend. _Queen_. It is your too easily wounded love complains of him. _Coelestin_. If that danger-- _Queen_ [_without listening to him_]. I see it, but I scarce can blame it. I blame no one. I have built for myself out of dreams and smiles a strong strong wall, outside of which you wait, thieves of my happiness--nay, my friend, look not so grieved!--and out of which you know not how to lure me, either by cunning or by clamor. _Coelestin_. Still, hast thou never come upon that knowledge, deep within thy heart, which tells thee how in everything that is and was and needs must be throughout our lives, a never expiated wrong must weigh us down? _Queen_. Never, my friend! In my soul there rings but one harp-tone, one voice, which says: be happy! _Coelestin_. And thy oath, Lady? _Queen_. My oath?