NEUBRUNN.

Your father’s rage—­

THEKLA.

That time is past—­
And now I fear no human being’s rage.

NEUBR.

The sentence of the world!  The tongue of
calumny!

THEKLA.

Whom am I seeking?  Him who is no more? 
Am I then hastening to the arms—­O God! 
I haste but to the grave of the beloved.

NEUBR.

And we alone, two helpless feeble women?

THEKLA.

We will take weapons:  my arm shall protect
thee.

NEUBR.

In the dark night-time?

THEKLA.

Darkness will conceal us.

NEUBR.

This rough tempestuous night—­

THEKLA.

Had he a soft bed
Under the hoofs of his war-horses?

NEUBRUNN.

Heaven! 
And then the many posts of the enemy.

THEKLA.

They are human beings.  Misery travels free
Through the whole earth.

NEUBRUNN.

The journey’s weary length—­

THEKLA.

The pilgrim, traveling to a distant shrine
Of hope and healing, doth not count the leagues.

NEUBR.

How can we pass the gates?

THEKLA.

Gold opens them. 
Go, do but go.

NEUBRUNN.

Should we be recognized—­

THEKLA.

In a despairing woman, a poor fugitive,
Will no one seek the daughter of Duke Friedland.

NEUBR.

And where procure we horses for our flight?

THEKLA.

My equerry procures them.  Go and fetch him.

NEUBR.

Dares he, without the knowledge of his lord?

THEKLA.

He will.  Go, only go.  Delay no longer.

NEUBR.

Dear lady! and your mother?

THEKLA.

Oh! my mother!

NEUBR.

So much as she has suffer’d too already;
Your tender mother—­Ah! how ill prepared
For this last anguish!

THEKLA.

Woe is me! my mother!

[Pauses.]

Go instantly.

NEUBRUNN.

But think what you are doing!

THEKLA.

What can be thought, already has been thought.

NEUBR.

And being there, what purpose you to do?

THEKLA.

There a Divinity will prompt my soul.

NEUBR.

Your heart, dear lady, is disquieted! 
And this is not the way that leads to quiet.

THEKLA.

To a deep quiet, such as he has found. 
It draws me on, I know not what to name it,
Resistless does it draw me to his grave. 
There will my heart be eased, my tears will flow. 
O hasten, make no further questioning! 
There is no rest for me till I have left
These walls—­they fall in on me—­a dim power
Drives me from hence—­Oh mercy!  What a feeling! 
What pale and hollow forms are those!  They fill,
They crowd the place!  I have no longer room here! 
Mercy!  Still more!  More still!  The hideous swarm,
They press on me; they chase me from these walls—­
Those hollow, bodiless forms of living men!