MAX. And who's to blame for it but you at Court? I will deal plainly with you, Questenberg: When I observ'd you here, a twinge of spleen And bitterness went through me. It is you That hinder peace; yes, you. The General Must force it, and you ever keep tormenting him, Obstructing all his steps, abusing him; For what? Because the good of Europe lies Nearer his heart, than whether certain acres More or less of dirty land be Austria's! You call him traitor, rebel, God knows what, Because he spares the Saxons; as if that Were not the only way to peace; for how If during war, war end not, _can_ peace follow? Go to! go to! As I love goodness, so I hate This paltry work of yours: and here I vow to God, For him, this rebel, traitor Wallenstein, To shed my blood, my heart's blood, drop by drop, Ere I will see you triumph in his fall! The Princess Thekla is perhaps still dearer to us. Thekla, just entering on life, with 'timid steps,' with the brilliant visions of a cloister yet undisturbed by the contradictions of reality, beholds in Max, not merely her protector and escort to her father's camp, but the living emblem of her shapeless yet glowing dreams. She knows not deception, she trusts and is trusted: their spirits meet and mingle, and 'clasp each other firmly and forever.' All this is described by the poet with a quiet inspiration, which finds its way into our deepest sympathies. Such beautiful simplicity is irresistible. 'How long,' the Countess Terzky asks, How long is it since you disclosed your heart? MAX. This morning first I risked a word of it. COUN. Not till this morning during twenty days? MAX. 'Twas at the castle where you met us, 'twixt this And Nepomuk, the last stage of the journey. On a balcony she and I were standing, our looks In silence turn'd upon the vacant landscape; And before us the dragoons were riding, Whom the Duke had sent to be her escort. Heavy on my heart lay thoughts of parting, And with a faltering voice at last I said: All this reminds me, Fräulein, that today I must be parted from my happiness; In few hours you will find a father, Will see yourself encircled by new friends; And I shall be to you nought but a stranger, Forgotten in the crowd—"Speak with Aunt Terzky!" Quick she interrupted me; I noticed A quiv'ring in her voice; a glowing blush Spread o'er her cheeks; slow rising from the ground, Her eyes met mine: I could control myself No longer— [_The Princess appears at the door, and stops; the Countess, but not Piccolomini, observing her._ —I clasp'd her wildly in my arms, My lips were join'd with hers. Some footsteps stirring I' th' next room parted us; 'twas you; what then Took place, you know. COUN. And can you be so modest, Or incurious, as not once to ask me For _my_ secret, in return? MAX. Your secret? COUN. Yes, sure! On coming in the moment after, How my niece receiv'd me, what i' th' instant Of her first surprise she—