Let us not place too great a faith in men.
These Tertskys-we will still be grateful to them
For every kindness, but not trust them further
Than they deserve;—and in all else rely--
On our own hearts!

Max.

O! shall we e'er be happy?

Thek. Are we not happy now? Art thou not mine? Am I not thine? There lives within my soul

A lofty courage-'tis love gives it me!

I ought to be less open-ought to hide

My heart more from thee-so decorum dictates:
But where in this place couldst thou seek for truth,

If in my mouth thou didst not find it?

SCENE VI.

To them enters the COUNTESS TERTSKY.

Coun. (in a pressing manner).

Come!

My husband sends me for you. It is now

The latest moment. (They not appearing to attend to what she says, she steps between them.)

Flies swiftly with your Highness, Princess niece!

Max. There is no hurry, aunt.

Why needs he

Coun. You understand that, niece!
Thek.

To go at all to that society?

"Tis not his proper company. They may

Be worthy men, but he's too young for them.

In brief, he suits not such society.

Coun. You mean, you'd rather keep him wholly here?

Thek. (with energy). Yes! you have hit it. aunt! That is my

meaning.

Leave him here wholly! Tell the company--

Coun. What? have you lost your senses, niece?

Count, you remember the conditions. Come!

Max. (to THEKLA). Lady, I must obey. Farewell, dear lady! (THEKLA turns away from him with a quick motion.)

What say you then, dear lady?

Thek. (without looking at him). Nothing. Go!

Max. Can I, when you are angry

(He draws up to her, their eyes meet, she stands silent a moment, then throws herself into his arms; he presses her fast to his heart.)

The

Coun. Off! Heavens! if any one should come! Hark! What's that noise? It come's this way.- -Off! (MAX. tears himself away out of her arms, and goes. COUNTESS accompanies him. THELKA follows him with her eyes at first, walks restlessly across the room, then stops, and remains standing, lost in thought. A guitar lies on the table, she seizes it as by a sudden emotion, and after she has played awhile an irregular and melancholy symphony, she falls gradually into the music and sings.)

Thekla (plays and sings).

The cloud doth gather, the greenwood roar,

The damsel paces along the shore;

The billows they tumble with might, with might;
And she flings out her voice to the darksome night;
Her bosom is swelling with sorrow;

The world it is empty, the heart will die,
There's nothing to wish for beneath the sky:

Thou Holy One, call thy child away!

I've lived and loved, and that was to day

Make ready my grave-clothes to-morrow.

SCENE VII.

COUNTESS (returns), THEKLA.

Coun. Fie, lady niece! to throw yourself upon him, Like a poor gift to one who cares not for it,

And so must be flung after him! For you,

Duke Friedland's only child, I should have thought,
It had been more beseeming to have shown yourself

More chary of your person.

Thek. (rising).

And what mean you?

Coun. I mean, niece, that you should not have forgotten

Who you are, and who he is.

But perchance

That never once occurred to you.