_Gab._ If I intrude, I crave----
_Iden._ Oh, no intrusion! 250 This is the palace; this a stranger like Yourself; I pray you make yourself at home: But where's his Excellency? and how fares he?
_Gab._ Wetly and wearily, but out of peril: He paused to change his garments in a cottage (Where I doffed mine for these, and came on hither), And has almost recovered from his drenching.
He will be here anon.
_Iden._ What ho, there! bustle!
Without there, Herman, Weilburg, Peter, Conrad!
[_Gives directions to different servants who enter_.
A nobleman sleeps here to-night--see that 260 All is in order in the damask chamber-- Keep up the stove--I will myself to the cellar-- And Madame Idenstein (my consort, stranger,) Shall furnish forth the bed-apparel; for, To say the truth, they are marvellous scant of this Within the palace precincts, since his Highness Left it some dozen years ago. And then His Excellency will sup, doubtless?
_Gab._ Faith!
I cannot tell; but I should think the pillow Would please him better than the table, after 270 His soaking in your river: but for fear Your viands should be thrown away, I mean To sup myself, and have a friend without Who will do honour to your good cheer with A traveller's appetite.
_Iden._ But are you sure His Excellency----But his name: what is it?
_Gab._ I do not know.
_Iden._ And yet you saved his life.
_Gab._ I helped my friend to do so.
_Iden._ Well, that's strange, To save a man's life whom you do not know.
_Gab._ Not so; for there are some I know so well, 280 I scarce should give myself the trouble.
_Iden._ Pray, Good friend, and who may you be?
_Gab._ By my family, Hungarian.
_Iden._ Which is called?
_Gab._ It matters little.
_Iden._ (_aside_). I think that all the world are grown anonymous, Since no one cares to tell me what he's called!
Pray, has his Excellency a large suite?
_Gab._ Sufficient.
_Iden._ How many?
_Gab._ I did not count them.
We came up by mere accident, and just In time to drag him through his carriage window.
_Iden._ Well, what would I give to save a great man! 290 No doubt you'll have a swingeing sum as recompense.
_Gab._ Perhaps.
_Iden._ Now, how much do you reckon on?
_Gab._ I have not yet put up myself to sale: In the mean time, my best reward would be A glass of your[166] Hockcheimer--a _green_ glass, Wreathed with rich grapes and Bacchanal devices, O'erflowing with the oldest of your vintage: For which I promise you, in case you e'er Run hazard of being drowned, (although I own It seems, of all deaths, the least likely for you,) 300 I'll pull you out for nothing. Quick, my friend, And think, for every bumper I shall quaff, A wave the less may roll above your head.
_Iden._ (_aside_). I don't much like this fellow--close and dry He seems,--two things which suit me not; however, Wine he shall have; if that unlocks him not, I shall not sleep to-night for curiosity. [_Exit_ IDENSTEIN.
_Gab._ (_to_ WERNER). This master of the ceremonies is The intendant of the palace, I presume: 'Tis a fine building, but decayed.
_Wer._ The apartment 310 Designed for him you rescued will be found In fitter order for a sickly guest.
_Gab._ I wonder then you occupied it not, For you seem delicate in health.
_Wer._ (_quickly_). Sir!
_Gab._ Pray Excuse me: have I said aught to offend you?
_Wer._ Nothing: but we are strangers to each other.
_Gab._ And that's the reason I would have us less so: I thought our bustling guest without had said You were a chance and passing guest, the counterpart Of me and my companions.
_Wer._ Very true. 320
_Gab._ Then, as we never met before, and never, It may be, may again encounter, why, I thought to cheer up this old dungeon here (At least to me) by asking you to share The fare of my companions and myself.
_Wer._ Pray, pardon me; my health----
_Gab._ Even as you please.
I have been a soldier, and perhaps am blunt In bearing.
_Wer._ I have also served, and can Requite a soldier's greeting.
_Gab._ In what service?
The Imperial?
_Wer._ (_quickly, and then interrupting himself_).
I commanded--no--I mean 330 I served; but it is many years ago, When first Bohemia[167] raised her banner 'gainst The Austrian.
_Gab._ Well, that's over now, and peace Has turned some thousand gallant hearts adrift To live as they best may: and, to say truth, Some take the shortest.
_Wer._ What is that?
_Gab._ Whate'er They lay their hands on. All Silesia and Lusatia's woods are tenanted by bands Of the late troops, who levy on the country Their maintenance: the Chatelains must keep 340 Their castle walls--beyond them 'tis but doubtful Travel for your rich Count or full-blown Baron.
My comfort is that, wander where I may, I've little left to lose now.
_Wer._ And I--nothing.
_Gab._ That's harder still. You say you were a soldier.
_Wer._ I was.