This can I not endure. With most determined soul did I come hither; My purposed action seem'd unblamable To my own conscience--and I must stand here Like one abhorr'd, a hard inhuman being: Yea, loaded with the curse of all I love! Must see all whom I love in this sore anguish, Whom I with one word can make happy--O! My heart revolts within me, and two voices Make themselves audible within my bosom. My soul's benighted; I no longer can Distinguish the right track. O, well and truly Didst thou say, father, I relied too much On my own heart. My mind moves to and fro-- know not what to do. COUNTESS. What! you know not? Does not your own heart tell you? O! then I Will tell it you. Your father is a traitor, A frightful traitor to us--he has plotted Against our General's life, has plunged us all In misery--and you're his son! 'Tis yours To make the _amends_--Make you the son's fidelity Outweigh the father's treason, that the name Of Piccolomini be not a proverb Of infamy, a common form of cursing To the posterity of Wallenstein. MAX. Where is that voice of truth which I dare follow! It speaks no longer in _my_ heart. We all But utter what our passionate wishes dictate: O that an angel would descend from heaven, And scoop for me the right, the uncorrupted, With a pure hand from the pure fount of Light! [_His eyes glance on_ THEKLA.] What other angel seek I? To this heart, To this unerring heart, will I submit it; Will ask thy love, which has the power to bless The happy man alone, averted ever From the disquieted and guilty--_canst_ thou Still love me, if I stay? Say that thou canst, And I am the Duke's-- COUNTESS. Think, niece-- MAX. Think, nothing, Thekla! Speak what thou _feelest_. COUNTESS. Think upon your father. MAX. I did not question thee, as Friedland's daughter. Thee, the beloved and the unerring god Within thy heart, I question. What's at stake? Not whether diadem of royalty Be to be won or not--that mightst thou _think_ on. Thy friend, and his soul's quiet, are at stake: The fortune of a thousand gallant men, Who will all follow me; shall I forswear My oath and duty to the Emperor? Say, shall I send into Octavio's camp The parricidal ball? For when the ball Has left its cannon, and is on its flight, It is no longer a dead instrument! It lives, a spirit passes into it, The avenging furies seize possession of it, And with sure malice guide it the worst way. THEIKLA. O! Max-- MAX (_interrupting her_).