hould now unkindly tread in dust
The plant himself has nurtured, just because
Too swiftly opulent it flowered forth?
I'll not believe his worst foe could think that--
And far less you who know and cherish him.

HOHENZOLLERN (_significantly_).
Arthur, you've stood your trial in court-martial,
And you believe that still?

THE PRINCE. _Because_ of it!
No one, by heaven alive, would go so far
Who did not have a pardon up his sleeve!
Even there, before the judgment bar, it was--
Even there it was, my confidence returned.
Come, was it such a capital offense
Two little seconds ere the order said
To have laid low the stoutness of the Swede?
What other felony is on my conscience?
And could he summon me, unfeelingly,
Before this board of owl-like judges, chanting
Their litanies of bullets and the grave,
Did he not purpose with a sovereign word
To step into their circle like a god?
No, he is gathering this night of cloud
About my head, my friend, that he may dawn
Athwart the gloomy twilight like the sun!
And, faith, this pleasure I begrudge him not!

HOHENZOLL. And yet, they say, the court has spoken judgment.

THE PRINCE. I heard so: death.

HOHENZOLLERN (_amazed_). You know it then--so soon?

THE PRINCE. Golz, who was present when they brought the verdict
Gave me report of how the judgment fell.

HOHENZOLL. My God, man! And it stirred you not at all?

THE PRINCE. Me? Why, not in the least!

HOHENZOLLERN. You maniac!
On what then do you prop your confidence?

THE PRINCE. On what I feel of him! [_He rises._] No more, I beg.
Why should I fret with insubstantial doubts?

[_He bethinks himself and sits down again. Pause._]

The court was forced to make its verdict death;
For thus the statute reads by which they judge.
But ere he let that sentence be fulfilled--
Ere, at a kerchief's fall, he yields this heart
That loves him truly, to the muskets' fire,
Ere that, I say, he'll lay his own breast bare
And spill his own blood, drop by drop, in dust.

HOHENZOLL. But, Arthur, I assure you--

THE PRINCE (_petulantly_). Oh, my dear!

HOHENZOLL. The Marshal--

THE PRINCE (_still petulantly_). Come, enough!

HOHENZOLLERN. Hear two words more!
If those make no impression, I'll be mute.

THE PRINCE (_turning to him again_).
I told you, I know all. Well, now, what is it?

HOHENZOLL