ved,
That I had sent for wife and daughter hither
To the camp, in winter-time?

DUCHESS.
I did even that
Which you commissioned me to do. I told them
You had determined on our daughter's marriage,
And wished, ere yet you went into the field,
To show the elected husband his betrothed.

WALLENSTEIN.
And did they guess the choice which I had made?

DUCHESS.
They only hoped and wished it may have fallen
Upon no foreign nor yet Lutheran noble.

WALLENSTEIN.
And you--what do you wish, Elizabeth?

DUCHESS.
Your will, you know, was always mine.

WALLENSTEIN (after a pause).
Well, then,--
And in all else, of what kind and complexion
Was your reception at the court?
[The DUCHESS casts her eyes on the ground, and remains silent.
Hide nothing from me. How were you received?

DUCHESS.
O! my dear lord, all is not what it was.
A canker-worm, my lord, a canker-worm
Has stolen into the bud.

WALLENSTEIN.
Ay! is it so?
What, they were lax? they failed of the old respect?

DUCHESS.
Not of respect. No honors were omitted,
No outward courtesy; but in the place
Of condescending, confidential kindness,
Familiar and endearing, there were given me
Only these honors and that solemn courtesy.
Ah! and the tenderness which was put on,
It was the guise of pity, not of favor.
No! Albrecht's wife, Duke Albrecht's princely wife,
Count Harrach's noble daughter, should not so--
Not wholly so should she have been received.

WALLENSTEIN.
Yes, yes; they have taken offence. My latest conduct
They railed at it, no doubt.

DUCHESS.
O that they had!
I have been long accustomed to defend you,
To heal and pacify distempered spirits.
No; no one railed at you. They wrapped them up,
O Heaven! in such oppressive, solemn silence!
Here is no every-day misunderstanding,
No transient pique, no cloud that passes over;
Something most luckless, most unhealable,
Has taken place. The Queen of Hungary
Used formerly to call me her dear aunt,
And ever at departure to embrace me----

WALLENSTEIN.
Now she omitted it?

DUCHESS (wiping away her tears after a pause).
She did embrace me,
But then first when I had already taken
My formal leave, and when the door already
Had closed upon me, then did she come out
In haste, as she had suddenly bethought herself,
And pressed me to her bosom, more with anguish
Than tenderness.

WALLENSTEIN (seizes her hand soothingly).