_Queen_. In no other have I trusted. I guarded thy son for thee; and still thy throne stands empty, waiting its master. _King_. Then thou hast waited fifteen years and sorrowed not. So shalt thou learn my mystery. Two kingdoms I have won, to pleasure me; the first has vanished into air, the second is my shame. Justice became a mock,--all gifts a usury; and everywhere I turned a murderous laugh pursued me. Then purity plunged in the mire, then honor mocked its own best gift: all this the magic of the heron wreaked upon me.... Yea, now thou knowest; a charm was all my crime and all my fate, year after year. It blinded me to love and life, to wife and child; it hunted me away from thee, and drove me from place to place; and when a lucent flight of happiness sprang up from heaven after my downfall, it drowned its glory in a flood of tears. Behold! [_He tears open his gorget and draws out the last of the heron's feathers._] The enchantment's last beguiling pledge I hold here in my hand. When this feather shrivels in the flame there sinks an unblessed woman to her death, that woman whose wraith stood in the heavens for me to gaze upon,--that woman whom I sought and never found! Behold! I bury the madness in its grave, and with the act I put the longing from me. [_He tosses the feather into the flames. There is a flash of lightning, and a roll of thunder follows it._] _Queen_ [_sinks down, whispering with failing strength_]. Now are we two protected from all mischance.... I still ... have been thy happiness ... even in ... death. [_She dies._] _Prince_. Mother! Speak one word to me! _King_. It was thou? It was thou? [_He throws himself upon her body._] _The Young Prince_ [_in tears_]. Ah, Mother! _Coelestin_. She has gone, and I, the shadow of a shadow, stay behind. _The Men_ [_murmur among themselves_]. His is the blame! Tear him from off her body! [_They draw their swords to attack the_ King.] _Hans Lorbass_ [_blocking the way with drawn sword_]. Away there! [_The Burial-wife mounting solemnly out of the open grave._] _Burial-wife_. Children, cease your strife! Can you not see his spirit wanders far? He is wrapped about with the whisperings of eternity. The message of death is on the way, the stone of sacrifice doth reek for blood. Long has this man belonged to me; and now--[_she raises her arm and lets it fall_]--I come into my own. [_The_ King _breathes heavily, stirs, and dies._] _Hans Lorbass_ [_kneels down beside him with a cry_]. Master, master! _Burial-wife_. Thus from lust and guilt and sorrow have I cleansed his soul. To both of them it shall be as though they had not been. Wrap them about with linen, bear them to my dark abode; then go in silent thought from hence, for my work is done.