My course is chosen. O this black campaign, Which Pitt's alarmed dispatches pricked us to, All unforseeing! Any risk for me Rather than court humiliation here! [MACK has risen during the latter remarks, walked to the window, and looked out at the rain. He returns with an air of embarrassment.] MACK [to Archduke] It is my privilege firmly to submit That your Imperial Highness undertake No venturous vaulting into risks unknown.-- Assume that you, Sire, as you have proposed, With your light regiments and the cavalry, Detach yourself from us, to scoop a way By circuits northwards through the Rauhe Alps And Herdenheim, into Bohemia: Reports all point that you will be attacked, Enveloped, borne on to capitulate. What worse can happen here?-- Remember, Sire, the Emperor deputes me, Should such a clash arise as has arisen, To exercise supreme authority. The honour of our arms, our race, demands That none of your Imperial Highness' line Be pounded prisoner by this vulgar foe, Who is not France, but an adventurer, Imposing on that country for his gain. ARCHDUKE But it seems clear to me that loitering here Is full as like to compass our surrender As moving hence. And ill it therefore suits The mood of one of my high temperature To pause inactive while await me means Of desperate cure for these so desperate ills! [The ARCHDUKE FERDINAND goes out. A troubled, silence follows, during which the gusts call into the chimney, and raindrops spit on the fire.] SCHWARZENBERG The Archduke bears him shrewdly in this course. We may as well look matters in the face, And that we are cooped and cornered is most clear; Clear it is, too, that but a miracle Can work to loose us! I have stoutly held That this man's three years' ostentatious scheme To fling his army on the tempting shores Of our Allies the English was a--well-- Scarce other than a trick of thimble-rig To still us into false security. JELLACHICH Well, I know nothing. None needs list to me, But, on the whole, to southward seems the course For lunging, all in force, immediately. [Another pause.] SPIRIT SINISTER The Will throws Mack again into agitation: Ho-ho--what he'll do now! SPIRIT OF THE PITIES Nay, hard one, nay; The clouds weep for him! SPIRIT SINISTER If he must; And it's good antic at a vacant time! [MACK goes restlessly to the door, and is heard pacing about the vestibule, and questioning the aides and other officers gathered there.] A GENERAL He wavers like this smoke-wreath that inclines Or north, or south, as the storm-currents rule! MACK [returning] Bring that deserter hither once again. [A French soldier is brought in, blindfolded and guarded. The bandage is removed.] Well, tell us what he says.