Except his name (and that I only learn'd

To-night), I know not.

GABOR.

But how came he here?

IDENSTEIN.

In a most miserable old calash,

About a month since, and immediately

Fell sick, almost to death. He should have died.

GABOR.

Tender and true!—but why?

IDENSTEIN.

Why, what is life

Without a living? He has not a stiver.

GABOR.

In that case, I much wonder that a person
Of your apparent prudence should admit
Guests so forlorn into this noble mansion.

IDENSTEIN.

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
As they could pay for fire-wood.

Exceeding poor.

GABOR.

Poor souls!

IDENSTEIN.

Ay,

If I mistake not.

GABOR.

And yet unused to poverty,
Whither were they going?

IDENSTEIN.

Oh! Heaven knows where, unless to heaven itself.
Some days ago that look'd the likeliest journey

For Werner.

GABOR.

Werner! I have heard the name,

But it may be a feign'd one.

IDENSTEIN.

Like enough!

But hark! a noise of wheels and voices, and

A blaze of torches from without.

As destiny, his excellency 's come.

As sure

I must be at my post: will you not join me,

To help him from his carriage, and

Your humble duty at the door?

GABOR.

present

I dragg'd 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,

Now do yours. Hence, and bow and cringe him here!

IDENSTEIN.

I cringe!--but I shall lose the opportunity

Plague take it! he'll be here, and I not there!

(Exit IDENSTEIN, hastily.

Re-enter WERNER.

WERNER (To himself.)

I heard a noise of wheels and voices.

All sounds now jar me!

Α

How

(Perceiving GABOR.

spy of my pursuer's? His frank offer, So suddenly, and to a stranger, wore

The aspect of a secret enemy;

For friends are slow at such.

GABOR.

Sir, you seem rapt,

And yet the time is not akin to thought.
These old walls will be noisy soon.

The baron,

Or count (or whatso'er this half-drown'd noble
May be), for whom this desolate village, and
Its lone inhabitants, show more respect

Than did the elements, is come.

IDENSTEIN (Without.)

This way

This way, your excellency:-have a care,
The staircase is a little gloomy, and
Somewhat decay'd; but if we had expected

So high a guest-pray take my arm, my lord!

Enter STRALENHEIM, IDENSTEIN, and Attendants, partly his own, and partly retainers of the domain, of which IDENSTEIN is Intendant.

Why, no one spoke of you, or to you!-
!-but
Here's one his excellency may be pleased

This is one of the strangers to whose aid

I owe my rescue. Is not that the other? (Pointing to WERNER. My state, when I was succour'd, must excuse

My uncertainty to whom I owe so much.

He!-no my

IDENSTEIN.

lord! he rather wants for rescue

Than can afford it. 'T is a

poor sick man,

Travel-tired, and lately risen from a bed,

From whence he never dream'd to rise.

That they were two.

STRALENHEIM.

Methought

GABOR.

There were, in company;
But, in the service render'd to your lordship,
I needs must say but one, and he is absent.
The chief part of whatever aid was render'd,
Was his: it was his fortune to be first.

My will was not inferior, but his strength
And youth outstripp'd me; therefore do not waste
Your thanks on me. I was but a glad second
Unto a nobler principal.

STRALENHEIM.

Where is he?

AN ATTENDANT.

My lord, he tarried in the cottage, where
Your excellency rested for an hour,
And said he would be here to-morrow.

STRALENHEIM.

Till

That hour arrives, I can but offer thanks,

And then-—

GABOR.

and scarce deserve

I seek no more,

So much. My comrade may speak for himself.

STRALENHEIM (Fixing his eyes upon WERNER, then aside.)

It cannot be! and yet he must be look'd to.

'Tis twenty years since I beheld him with

These eyes; and, though my agents still have kept Theirs on him, policy has held aloof

My own from his, not to alarm him into

Suspicion of my plan. Why did I leave

At Hamburgh those who would have made assurance If this be he or no? I thought, ere now,