_Gab._ And by her aspect she might be a Prince's; Though time hath touched her too, she still retains Much beauty, and more majesty. _Iden._ And that Is more than I can say for Madame Idenstein, At least in beauty: as for majesty, She has some of its properties which might Be spared--but never mind! _Gab._ I don't. But who May be this stranger? He too hath a bearing Above his outward fortunes. _Iden._ There I differ. 400 He's poor as Job, and not so patient; but Who he may be, or what, or aught of him, Except his name (and that I only learned To-night), I know not. _Gab._ But how came he here? _Iden._ In a most miserable old caleche, About a month since, and immediately Fell sick, almost to death. He should have died. _Gab._ Tender and true!--but why? _Iden._ Why, what is life Without a living? He has not a stiver.[co] _Gab._ In that case, I much wonder that a person 410 Of your apparent prudence should admit Guests so forlorn into this noble mansion. _Iden._ That's true: but pity, as you know, _does_ make One's heart commit these follies; and besides, They had some valuables left at that time, Which paid their way up to the present hour; And so I thought they might as well be lodged Here as at the small tavern, and I gave them The run of some of the oldest palace rooms. They served to air them, at the least as long 420 As they could pay for firewood. _Gab._ Poor souls! _Iden._ Aye, Exceeding poor. _Gab._ And yet unused to poverty, If I mistake not. Whither were they going? _Iden._ Oh! Heaven knows where, unless to Heaven itself. Some days ago that looked the likeliest journey For Werner. _Gab._ Werner! I have heard the name. But it may be a feigned one. _Iden._ Like enough! But hark! a noise of wheels and voices, and A blaze of torches from without. As sure As destiny, his Excellency's come. 430 I must be at my post; will you not join me, To help him from his carriage, and present Your humble duty at the door? _Gab._ I dragged him From out that carriage when he would have given His barony or county to repel The rushing river from his gurgling throat. He has valets now enough: they stood aloof then, Shaking their dripping ears upon the shore, All roaring "Help!" but offering none; and as For _duty_ (as you call it)--I did mine _then_, 440 Now do _yours_. Hence, and bow and cringe him here!