uch still
linger upon earth:--to business, Count Henry, to stern facts!

THE MAN. What do you seek from me, redeemer of the people, citizen-god?

PANCRATIUS. I sought you, in the first place, because I wished to know
you; in the second, because I desire to save you.

THE MAN. For the first, receive my thanks; for the second, trust my
sword!

PANCRATIUS. Your God! your sword! vain phantoms of the brain! Look at
the dread realities of your situation! The curses of the millions are
upon you; myriads of brawny arms are already raised to hurl you to
destruction! Of all the vaunted Past nothing remains to you save a few
feet of earth, scarcely enough to offer you a grave. Even your last
fortress, the castle of the Holy Trinity, can hold out but a few days
longer. Where is your artillery? Where are the arms and provisions for
your soldiers? Where are your soldiers? and what dependence can you
place on the few you still retain? You must surely know there is
nothing left you on which to hang a single hope!

If I were in your place, Count Henry, I know what I would do!

THE MAN. Speak! you see how patiently I listen!

PANCRATIUS. Were I Count Henry, I would say to Pancratius: 'I will
dismiss my troops, my few retainers; I will not go to the relief of the
Holy Trinity--and for this I will retain my title and my estates; and
you, Pancratius, will pledge your own honor to guarantee me the
possession of the things I require.'

How old are you, Count Henry?

THE MAN. I am thirty-six years old, citizen.

PANCRATIUS. Then you have but about fifteen years of life to expect, for
men of your temperament die young; your son is nearer to the grave than
to maturity. A single exception, such as yours, can do no harm to the
great whole. Remain, then, where you are, the last of the counts. Rule,
as long as you shall live, in the house of your fathers; have your
family portraits retouched, your armorial bearings renewed, and think no
more of the wretched remnant of your fallen order. Let the justice of
the long-injured people be fulfilled upon them! (_He fills for himself
another cup._) Your good health, Henry, the last of the counts!

THE MAN. Every word you utter is a new insult to me! Do you really
believe that, to save a dishonored life, I would suffer myself to be
enslaved and dragged about, chained to your car of triumph?

Cease! cease! I can endure no longer! I cannot answer as my spirit
dictates, for you are my guest, shelte