e better
Beseemed this palace in its brightest days
(Though in a garb adapted to its present
Abandonment), returned my salutation--
Is not the same your spouse?

_Iden._ I would she were! 390
But you're mistaken:--that's the stranger's wife.

_Gab._ And by her aspect she might be a Prince's;
Though time hath touched her too, she still retains
Much beauty, and more majesty.

_Iden._ And that
Is more than I can say for Madame Idenstein,
At least in beauty: as for majesty,
She has some of its properties which might
Be spared--but never mind!

_Gab._ I don't. But who
May be this stranger? He too hath a bearing
Above his outward fortunes.

_Iden._ There I differ. 400
He's poor as Job, and not so patient; but
Who he may be, or what, or aught of him,
Except his name (and that I only learned
To-night), I know not.

_Gab._ But how came he here?

_Iden._ In a most miserable old caleche,
About a month since, and immediately
Fell sick, almost to death. He should have died.

_Gab._ Tender and true!--but why?

_Iden._ Why, what is life
Without a living? He has not a stiver.[co]

_Gab._ In that case, I much wonder that a person 410
Of your apparent prudence should admit
Guests so forlorn into this noble mansion.

_Iden._ That's true: but pity, as you know, _does_ make
One's heart commit these follies; and besides,
They had some valuables left at that time,
Which paid their way up to the present hour;
And so I thought they might as well be lodged
Here as at the small tavern, and I gave them
The run of some of the oldest palace rooms.
They served to air them, at the least as long 420
As they could pay for firewood.

_Gab._ Poor souls!

_Iden._ Aye,
Exceeding poor.

_Gab._ And yet unused to poverty,
If I mistake not. Whither were they going?

_Iden._ Oh! Heaven knows where, unless to Heaven itself.
Some days ago that looked the likeliest journey
For Werner.

_Gab._ Werner! I have heard the name.
But it may be a feigned one.