DEVEREUX.
If the business
Squares with one's honor--if that be quite certain.

BUTLER.
Set your hearts quite at ease. Ye save for Ferdinand
His crown and empire. The reward can be
No small one.

DEVEREUX.
And 'tis his purpose to dethrone the emperor?

BUTLER.
Yes! Yes! to rob him of his crown and life.

DEVEREUX.
And must he fall by the executioner's hands,
Should we deliver him up to the emperor
Alive?

BUTLER.
It were his certain destiny.

DEVEREUX.
Well! Well! Come then, Macdonald, he shall not
Lie long in pain.

[Exeunt BUTLER through one door, MACDONALD and DEVEREUX
through the other.

SCENE III.

A saloon, terminated by a gallery, which extends far
into the background.

WALLENSTIN sitting at a table. The SWEDISH CAPTAIN
standing before him.

WALLENSTEIN.
Commend me to your lord. I sympathize
In his good fortune; and if you have seen me
Deficient in the expressions of that joy,
Which such a victory might well demand,
Attribute it to no lack of good-will,
For henceforth are our fortunes one. Farewell,
And for your trouble take my thanks. To-morrow
The citadel shall be surrendered to you
On your arrival.

[The SWEDISH CAPTAIN retires. WALLENSTEIN sits lost in thought,
his eyes fixed vacantly, and his head sustained by his hand. The
COUNTESS TERZKY enters, stands before him for awhile, unobserved
by him; at length he starts, sees her and recollects himself.

WALLENSTEIN.
Comest thou from her? Is she restored? How is she?

COUNTESS.
My sister tells me she was more collected
After her conversation with the Swede.
She has now retired to rest.

WALLENSTEIN.
The pang will soften
She will shed tears.

COUNTESS.
I find thee altered, too,
My brother! After such a victory
I had expected to have found in thee
A cheerful spirit. Oh, remain thou firm!
Sustain, uphold us! For our light thou art,
Our sun.

WALLENSTEIN.
Be quiet. I ail nothing. Where's
Thy husband?

COUNTESS.
At a banquet--he and Illo.

WALLENSTEIN (rises and strides across the saloon).
The night's far spent. Betake thee to thy chamber.

COUNTESS.
Bid me not go, oh, let me stay with thee!

WALLENSTEIN (moves to the window).
There is a busy motion in the heaven,
The wind doth chase the flag upon the tower,
Fast sweep the clouds, the sickle [11] of the moon,
Struggling, darts snatches of uncertain light.
No form of star is