Glycine. Oh! that’s a different thing.
To be sure he’s brave, and handsome, and so pious 220
To his good old father. But for loving him —
Nay, there, indeed you are mistaken, Laska!
Poor youth! I rather think I grieve for him;
For I sigh so deeply when I think of him!
And if I see him, the tears come in my eyes, 225
And my heart beats; and all because I dreamt
That the war-wolf had gored him as he hunted
In the haunted forest!
Laska. You dare own all this?
Your lady will not warrant promise-breach.
Mine, pampered Miss! you shall be; and I’ll make you 230
Grieve for him with a vengeance. Odd’s, my fingers
Tingle already! [Makes threatening signs.
Glycine (aside). Ha! Bethlen coming this way!
[GLYCINE then cries out.
Oh, save me! save me! Pray don’t kill me, Laska!
Enter BETHLEN in a Hunting Dress.
Bethlen. What, beat a woman!
Laska (to Glycine). O you cockatrice!
Bethlen. Unmanly dastard, hold!
Laska. Do you chance to know 235
Who — I — am, Sir? — (‘Sdeath! how black he looks!)
Bethlen. I have started many strange beasts in my time,
But none less like a man, than this before me
That lifts his hand against a timid female.
Laska. Bold youth! she’s mine.
Glycine. No, not my master yet, 240
But only is to be; and all, because
Two years ago my lady asked me, and
I promised her, not him; and if she’ll let me,
I’ll hate you, my lord’s steward.
Bethlen. Hush, Glycine!
Glycine. Yes, I do, Bethlen; for he just now brought 245
False witnesses to swear away your life:
Your life, and old Bathory’s too.
Bethlen. Bathory’s!
Where is my father? Answer, or —— Ha! gone!
[LASKA during this time retires from the Stage.
Glycine. Oh, heed not him! I saw you pressing onward,
And did but feign alarm. Dear gallant youth, 250
It is your life they seek!
Bethlen. My life?
Glycine. Alas,
Lady Sarolta even —
Bethlen. She does not know me!
Glycine. Oh that she did! she could not then have spoken
With such stern countenance. But though she spurn me,
I will kneel, Bethlen —
Bethlen. Not for me, Glycine! 255
What have I done? or whom have I offended?
Glycine. Rash words, ‘tis said, and treasonous of the king.
[BETHLEN mutters to himself.
Glycine (aside). So looks the statue, in our hall, o’ the god,
The shaft just flown that killed the serpent!
Bethlen. King!
Glycine. Ah, often have I wished you were a king. 260
You would protect the helpless every where,
As you did us. And I, too, should not then
Grieve for you, Bethlen, as I do; nor have
The tears come in my eyes; nor dream bad dreams
That you were killed in the forest; and then Laska 265
Would have no right to rail at me, nor say
(Yes, the base man, he says,) that I — I love you.
Bethlen. Pretty Glycine! wert thou not betrothed —
But in good truth I know not what I speak.
This luckless morning I have been so haunted 270
With my own fancies, starting up like omens,
That I feel like one, who waking from a dream
Both asks and answers wildly. — But Bathory?
Glycine. Hist! ‘tis my lady’s step! She must not see you!
[BETHLEN retires.
Enter from the Cottage SAROLTA and BATHORY.
Sarolta. Go, seek your son! I need not add, be speedy — 275
You here, Glycine? [Exit BATHORY.
Glycine. Pardon, pardon, Madam!
If you but saw the old man’s son, you would not,
You could not have him harmed.
Sarolta. Be calm, Glycine!
Glycine. No, I shall break my heart.
Sarolta. Ha! is it so?
O strange and hidden power of sympathy, 280
That of — like fates, though all unknown to each,
Dost make blind instincts, orphan’s heart to orphan’s
Drawing by dim disquiet!
Glycine. Old Bathory —
Sarolta. Seeks his brave son. Come, wipe away thy tears.
Yes, in good truth, Glycine, this same Bethlen 285
Seems a most noble and deserving youth.
Glycine. My lady does not mock me?
Sarolta. Where is Laska?
Has he not told thee?
Glycine. Nothing. In his fear —
Anger, I mean — stole off — I am so fluttered —
Left me abruptly —
Sarolta. His shame excuses him! 290
He is somewhat hardly tasked; and in discharging
His own tools, cons a lesson for himself.
Bathory and the youth henceforward live
Safe in my lord’s protection.
Glycine. The saints bless you!
Shame on my graceless heart! How dared I fear, 295
Lady Sarolta could be cruel?
Sarolta. Come,
Be yourself, girl!
Glycine. O, ‘tis so full here!
And now it can not harm him if I tell you,
That the old man’s son —
Sarolta. Is not that old man’s son!
A destiny, not unlike thine own, is his. 300
For all I know of thee is, that thou art
A soldier’s orphan: left when rage intestine
Shook and engulphed the pillars of Illyria.
This other fragment, thrown back by that same earthquake,