_King_. Let the child be. I love him, thou knowest it. A little unwillingly, but what is that? He is not of my blood.... Let be. Speak of thyself. With every word thou drawest a thorn out of my soul. _Queen_. What shall I say? Am I so powerful, then? And yet--I am! Thou gavest my power to me! Nay, before that--I learned it from a gray-haired man. Still half a child, I owed my love to him; and gave it, though as yet I knew not how to love. [_The swinging maidens outside have begun to sing._] _King_. Hark! What is that? Some one is singing. How their voices exult together, as if they mocked the sound!... The air thrills as with the tremulousness of virgin bells on Sunday from a far-off lonely height. _Queen_ [_who has drawn aside the curtain. On the moonlit sward the white-robed maidens are singing_]. Are they not fair, thy singing land, thy moonlit house? _King_. Come back! Let the curtain fall! Give me thy hand, and I will drink therefrom a draught of deep forgetfulness. Lay it upon my burning forehead, ah, so coolingly! So rests the snow upon the slopes in my childhood's home.... My home ... what is it to me now?... A balmy wind blows over me ... it rises from a blue flower-besprinkled spot, far, far away, where happiness begins ... it seems so very long. I have not slept. I think ... [_He sleeps._] _Queen_ [_after she has tenderly pillowed and covered him_]. I hold thee to my breast, beloved prisoner; at this hour thou art mine, even if tomorrow thou wouldst tread me in the dust. Until tomorrow is a long respite, to have thee and to hold thee, to give to thee a thousand golden gifts--if thou desirest them. How many joyous fountains might leap to the light of day from their deep sleep in my heart's depths. Alas that no word breaks their enchantment! They must sink back again from whence they came. Never will sunshine build its seven-hued bridge between my dream and the reality, between to-day and happiness. Thou wilt go from me, I must see but cannot hinder it; but tonight thou still art mine,--I may protect the slumber of my sleeping child. [_Before going out, she draws the curtain so that the moonlight streams in_. Hans Lorbass, _spear in hand and quite motionless, is visible for a moment, and steps aside at the approach of the_ Queen.] ACT IV. _A vaulted tower in the castle. In the centre of the background is a landing with stairs going up and down. Beyond, a corridor that loses itself in the distance. In the left foreground a window, and next to it a vaulted passage. In the right foreground a door bound with iron, and next to it a chimney-piece. In the middle of the room is a table with the remains of a feast upon it. Overturned goblets, burned-out lights, stringed instruments, garments, etc., about. On the left side of the stage is the throne, with the King's arms hanging upon it. Night, and half-darkness. The wind wails faintly in the chimney._ Scene 1.