_Duke_. Where hast thou stayed so long? _Hans_ [_without stirring_]. I am a servant. I have served. _Duke_. What drivest thou now? _Hans_. I drive naught, my lord, I am driven. _Duke_ [_threateningly_]. It pleases thee to jest. _Hans_. And thee to be galled thereat. _Duke_. That fellow's corpse was never found! Now clear thyself from the suspicion. _Hans_. Think what thou wilt. Covered with wounds I sunk it in the ocean's depths. _Duke_. I trust thee. If thou wilt swear thy truth to me, then come. With me all is feasting and revelry. _Hans_ [_looking out to sea again_]. Thank thee, my lord. I care not to do murder, and I can play the robber by myself. _Duke_. Seize him. _Skoell_ [_beseechingly_]. Master, our dearest companion, who never yet has played us false. [Duke _draws his sword and makes as if to attack_ Hans.] _Hans_ [_gripping his sword and flourishing it high in the air._] Thou art the master and wonted to victory; but come too near, and thou hast only been the master! _Duke_. Well, leave him then upon the path where thou hast found him. I had wellnigh killed instead of paying him. [_He goes out. The others follow. Some of them shake_ Hans Lorbass _furtively by the hand._] _Hans_ [_alone_]. Then there is something holds his spirit in bonds; will make his race a race of weaklings, will plunge the land itself in guilt,--and yet they know not their own shame.... Right! Just now I saw something. Did I not behold, not far from land a blood-red sail a-dazzle against the blue night cloud? The keel bore sharply toward the shore--how gladly would I believe the old wife there, when--truly, it frets me so I must--[_He goes to the tower and is about to open the door_. Prince Witte _appears in the background._] _Hans_ [_casting himself at the_ Prince's _feet with a shout of joy_]. Master!--Thou hast come! Art thou safe? Unharmed? Here is thy nose--both ears--thy arm--and there thy sword! Thy voice alone is lost, it seems. _Prince_. Let me be silent, friend. The horror I have seen stands black about me and takes the color from my joy. _Hans_. What is that, now thou art here? [_Stammering._] And even if thy journey were in vain, if thou hast not brought the heron's feathers back with thee, what is-- _Prince_. I brought not the heron's feathers with me? My nightly watches, twilight's scanty rest, the morning's ardent fiery prayers, and more than all, the consecrated labor of the day, wherein what has been obtained from God with tears, must be besieged anew with fierce resolve, and conquered by the teeth-set "I will," won by obstinate unshrinking,--sorrow--doubt--danger--struggle--unsuccess to-day and new onslaught tomorrow--and so on and on--and always forward--have I all this behind me, and yet have I returned without the feathers? _Hans_. Thou hast the feathers? Are they really heron's feathers, from the very bird? _Prince_. Set thy fears at rest; the wonder is fulfilled, and all our pains dispersed in thankful prayer.