The Works of Lord Byron - LightNovelsOnl.com
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_Ulr._ I think so; for I love Nought else.--But I have not the time to pause Upon these gewgaws of the heart. Great things We have to do ere long. Speed! speed! good Rodolph!
_Rod._ On my return, however, I shall find The Baroness Ida lost in Countess Siegendorf?
_Ulr._ Perhaps: my father wishes it, and, sooth, 130 'Tis no bad policy: this union with The last bud of the rival branch at once Unites the future and destroys the past.
_Rod._ Adieu.
_Ulr._ Yet hold--we had better keep together Until the chase begins; then draw thou off, And do as I have said.
_Rod._ I will. But to Return--'twas a most kind act in the count Your father to send up to Konigsberg For this fair orphan of the Baron, and To hail her as his daughter.
_Ulr._ Wondrous kind! 140 Especially as little kindness till Then grew between them.
_Rod._ The late Baron died Of a fever, did he not?
_Ulr._ How should I know?
_Rod._ I have heard it whispered there was something strange About his death--and even the place of it Is scarcely known.
_Ulr._ Some obscure village on The Saxon or Silesian frontier.
_Rod._ He Has left no testament--no farewell words?
_Ulr._ I am neither confessor nor notary, So cannot say.
_Rod._ Ah! here's the lady Ida. 150
_Enter_ IDA STRALENHEIM.
_Ulr._ You are early, my sweet cousin!
_Ida._ Not _too_ early, Dear Ulric, if I do not interrupt you.
Why do you call me "_Cousin?_"
_Ulr._ (_smiling_). Are we not so?
_Ida._ Yes, but I do not like the name; methinks It sounds so cold, as if you thought upon Our pedigree, and only weighed our blood.
_Ulr._ (_starting_). Blood!
_Ida._ Why does yours start from your cheeks?
_Ulr._ Aye! doth it?
_Ida._ It doth--but no! it rushes like a torrent Even to your brow again.
_Ulr._ (_recovering himself_). And if it fled, It only was because your presence sent it 160 Back to my heart, which beats for you, sweet Cousin!
_Ida._ "Cousin" again.
_Ulr._ Nay, then, I'll call you sister.
_Ida._ I like that name still worse.--Would we had ne'er Been aught of kindred!
_Ulr._ (_gloomily_). Would we never had!
_Ida._ Oh, heavens! and can _you wish that?_
_Ulr._ Dearest Ida!
Did I not echo your own wish?
_Ida._ Yes, Ulric, But then I wished it not with such a glance, And scarce knew what I said; but let me be Sister, or cousin, what you will, so that I still to you am something.
_Ulr._ You shall be 170 All--all----
_Ida._ And you to _me are_ so already; But I can wait.
_Ulr._ Dear Ida!
_Ida._ Call me Ida, _Your_ Ida, for I would be yours, none else's-- Indeed I have none else left, since my poor father-- [_She pauses_.
_Ulr._ You have _mine_--you have _me_.
_Ida._ Dear Ulric, how I wish My father could but view my happiness, Which wants but this!
_Ulr._ Indeed!
_Ida._ You would have loved him, He you; for the brave ever love each other: His manner was a little cold, his spirit Proud (as is birth's prerogative); but under 180 This grave exterior----Would you had known each other!
Had such as you been near him on his journey, He had not died without a friend to soothe His last and lonely moments.
_Ulr._ Who says _that?_
_Ida._ What?
_Ulr._ That he _died alone_.
_Ida._ The general rumour, And disappearance of his servants, who Have ne'er returned: that fever was most deadly Which swept them all away.
_Ulr._ If they were near him, He could not die neglected or alone.
_Ida._ Alas! what is a menial to a death-bed, 190 When the dim eye rolls vainly round for what It loves?--They say he died of a fever.
_Ulr._ _Say!_ It _was_ so.
_Ida._ I sometimes dream otherwise.
_Ulr._ All dreams are false.
_Ida._ And yet I see him as I see you.
