The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries - LightNovelsOnl.com
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HOHENZOLL. The Platen girl?
THE PRINCE. Come, come, now!
HOHENZOLLERN. The Ramin
THE PRINCE. No, no, old fellow!
HOHENZOLLERN. Bork? Or Winterfeld?
THE PRINCE. No, no! My word! You fail to see the pearl For the bright circlet that but sets it off!
HOHENZOLL. d.a.m.n it, then, tell me! I can't guess the face!
What lady do you mean?
THE PRINCE. Well, never mind.
The name has slipped from me since I awoke, And goes for little in the story.
HOHENZOLLERN. Well, Let's have it then!
THE PRINCE. But now, don't interrupt me!-- And the Elector of the Jovelike brow, Holding a wreath of laurel in his hand, Stands close beside me, and the soul of me To ravish quite, twines round the jeweled band That hangs about his neck, and unto one Gives it to press upon my locks--Oh, friend!
HOHENZOLL. To whom?
THE PRINCE. Oh, friend!
HOHENZOLLERN. To whom then? Come, speak up!
THE PRINCE. I think it must have been the Platen girl.
HOHENZOLL. Platen? Oh, bos.h.!.+ Not she who's off in Prussia?
THE PRINCE. Really, the Platen girl. Or the Ramin?
HOHENZOLL. Lord, the Ramin! She of the brick-red hair?
The Platen girl with those coy, violet eyes-- They say you fancy _her_.
THE PRINCE. I fancy her--
HOHENZOLL. So, and you say she handed you the wreath?
THE PRINCE. Oh, like some deity of fame she lifts High up the circlet with its dangling chain As if to crown a hero. I stretch forth, Oh, in delight unspeakable, my hands I stretch to seize it, yearning with my soul To sink before her feet. But as the odor That floats above green valleys, by the wind's Cool breathing is dispelled, the group recedes Up the high terrace from me; lo, the terrace Beneath my tread immeasurably distends To heaven's very gate. I clutch at air Vainly to right, to left I clutch at air, Of those I loved hungering to capture one.
In vain! The palace portal opes amain.
A flash of lightning from within engulfs them; Rattling, the door flies to. Only a glove I ravish from the sweet dream-creature's arm In pa.s.sionate pursuing; and a glove, By all the G.o.ds, awaking, here I hold!
HOHENZOLL. Upon my word--and, you a.s.sume, the glove Must be her glove?
THE PRINCE. Whose?
HOHENZOLLERN. Well, the Platen girl's.
THE PRINCE. Platen! Of course. Or could it be Ramin's
HOHENZOLLERN (_with a laugh_).
Rogue that you are with your mad fantasies!
Who knows from what exploit delectable Here in a waking hour with flesh and blood The glove sticks to your hand, now?
THE PRINCE. Eh? What? I?
With all my love--
HOHENZOLLERN. Oh, well then, what's the odds?
Call it the Platen lady, or Ramin.
There is a Prussian post on Sunday next, So you can find out by the shortest way Whether your lady fair has lost a glove.
Off! Twelve o'clock! And we stand here and jaw!
THE PRINCE (_dreamily into s.p.a.ce_).
Yes, you are right. Come, let us go to bed.
But as I had it on my mind to say-- Is the Electress who arrived in camp Not long since with her niece, the exquisite Princess of Orange, is she still about?
HOHENZOLL. Why?--I declare the idiot thinks--
THE PRINCE. Why?
I've orders to have thirty mounted men Escort them safely from the battle-lines.
Ramin has been detailed to lead them.
HOHENZOLLERN. Bos.h.!.+
They're gone long since, or just about to go.
The whole night long, Ramin, all rigged for flight, Has hugged the door. But come. It's stroke o' twelve.
And I, for one, before the fight begins, I want to get some sleep.
SCENE V
_The same. Hall in the palace. In the distance, the sound of cannon.
The ELECTRESS and PRINCESS NATALIE, dressed for travel, enter, escorted by a gentleman-in-waiting, and sit down at the side.
Ladies-in-waiting. A little later the ELECTOR enters with FIELD-MARSHAL. DoRFLING, the PRINCE OF HOMBURG with the glove in his collar, COUNT HOHENZOLLERN, COUNT TRUCHSZ, COLONEL HENNINGS, TROOP-CAPTAIN VON DER GOLZ and several other generals, colonels and minor officers._
ELECTOR. What is that cannonading?--Is it Gotz?
DoRFLING. It's Colonel Gotz, my liege, who yesterday Pushed forward with the van. An officer Has come from him already to allay Your apprehensions ere they come to birth.
A Swedish outpost of a thousand men Has pressed ahead into the Hackel Hills, But for those hills Gotz stands security And sends me word that you should lay your plans As though his van already held them safe.
ELECTOR (_to the officers_).
The Marshal knows the plan. Now, gentlemen, I beg you take your pens and write it down.
[_The officers a.s.semble on the other side about the_ FIELD-MARSHAL, _and take out their tablets. The_ ELECTOR _turns to a gentleman-in-waiting_.]
Ramin is waiting with the coach outside?
