Elector to liberate Homburg. She could have borne the
death of the Prince, but this timorous misrepresentation of himself she
cannot bear:

"I never guessed a man could sink so low
Whom history applauded as her hero.
For look--I am a woman and I shrink
From the mere worm that draws too near my foot;
But so undone, so void of all control,
So unheroic quite, though lion-like
Death fiercely came, he should not find me thus!
Oh, what is human greatness, human fame!"

It is then that the Elector decides to make the Prince himself the judge
of his offense, and writes him the following letter:

"My Prince of Homburg, when I made you prisoner
Because of your too premature attack,
I thought that I was doing what was right--
No more; and reckoned on your acquiescence.
If you believe that I have been unjust,
Tell me I beg you in a word or two,
And forthwith I will send you back your sword."

He gives this letter to Nathalie for her to deliver to the Prince. I
must set down the words with which she receives the letter:

"I do not know and do not seek to know
What woke your favor, liege, so suddenly.
But truly this, I feel this in my heart,
You would not make ignoble sport of me.
The letter hold whate'er it may--I trust
That it hold pardon--and I thank you for it!"

Many another writer would have believed it was not enough for Nathalie
to prove herself a heroine, but that she must stride onward with seven
league boots and become an Amazon as well. Kleist, however, had looked
deeply into feminine nature, he knew that woman's greatness only blooms
above the abyss, and that she loses her wings the moment that earth
again offers her a spot where she can safely and firmly tread. Nathalie
sighs only once: "Oh what is human greatness, human fame!" But she
rejoices when she has the saving letter of the Elector in her
possession, and, without troubling herself further about its contents,
she hastens, enraptured, to the Prince of Homburg.

The Prince receives the letter. He reads it aloud while Nathalie
listens. She grows pale; for she feels what a man must do who is called
upon to be his own judge. Nevertheless she urges the Prince to write the
words which the Elector requires; she snatches the letter from the
Prince's hand; when he hesitates, she reminds him of the open grave he
has already seen. But neither is the Prince any longer in doubt
concerning the significance of the moment,