OCTAVIO. Go, rest your limbs, and keep yourself concealed. I hold it probable that yet ere evening I shall despatch you. The development Of this affair approaches: ere the day, That even now is dawning in the heaven, Ere this eventful day hath set, the lot That must decide our fortunes will be drawn. [Exit CORNET. SCENE III. OCTAVIO and MAX. PICCOLOMINI. OCTAVIO. Well--and what now, son? All will soon be clear; For all, I'm certain, went through that Sesina. MAX. (who through the whole of the foregoing scene has been in a violent and visible struggle of feelings, at length starts as one resolved). I will procure me light a shorter way. Farewell. OCTAVIO. Where now? Remain here. MAX. To the Duke. OCTAVIO (alarmed). What---- MAX. (returning). If thou hast believed that I shall act A part in this thy play, thou hast Miscalculated on me grievously. My way must be straight on. True with the tongue, False with the heart--I may not, cannot be Nor can I suffer that a man should trust me-- As his friend trust me--and then lull my conscience With such low pleas as these: "I ask him not-- He did it all at his own hazard--and My mouth has never lied to him." No, no! What a friend takes me for, that I must be. I'll to the duke; ere yet this day is ended Will I demand of him that he do save His good name from the world, and with one stride Break through and rend this fine-spun web of yours. He can, he will! I still am his believer, Yet I'll not pledge myself, but that those letters May furnish you, perchance, with proofs against him. How far may not this Terzky have proceeded-- What may not he himself too have permitted Himself to do, to snare the enemy, The laws of war excusing? Nothing, save His own mouth shall convict him--nothing less! And face to face will I go question him. OCTAVIO. Thou wilt. MAX. I will, as sure as this heart beats. OCTAVIO. I have, indeed, miscalculated on thee. I calculated on a prudent son, Who would have blessed the hand beneficent That plucked him back from the abyss--and lo! A fascinated being I discover, Whom his two eyes befool, whom passion wilders, Whom not the broadest light of noon can heal. Go, question him! Be mad enough, I pray thee. The purpose of thy father, of thy emperor, Go, give it up free booty! Force me, drive me To an open breach before the time. And now, Now that a miracle of heaven had guarded My secret purpose even to this hour, And laid to sleep suspicion's piercing eyes, Let me have lived to see that mine own son, With frantic enterprise, annihilates My toilsome labors and state policy.