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Not one for Bethlen?

      Glycine. Oh! that’s a different thing.

       To be sure he’s brave, and handsome, and so pious 220

       To his good old father. But for loving him —

       Nay, there, indeed you are mistaken, Laska!

       Poor youth! I rather think I grieve for him;

       For I sigh so deeply when I think of him!

       And if I see him, the tears come in my eyes, 225

       And my heart beats; and all because I dreamt

       That the war-wolf had gored him as he hunted

       In the haunted forest!

      Laska. You dare own all this?

       Your lady will not warrant promise-breach.

       Mine, pampered Miss! you shall be; and I’ll make you 230

       Grieve for him with a vengeance. Odd’s, my fingers

       Tingle already! [Makes threatening signs.

      Glycine (aside). Ha! Bethlen coming this way!

      [GLYCINE then cries out.

      Oh, save me! save me! Pray don’t kill me, Laska!

      Enter BETHLEN in a Hunting Dress.

      Bethlen. What, beat a woman!

      Laska (to Glycine). O you cockatrice!

      Bethlen. Unmanly dastard, hold!

      Laska. Do you chance to know 235

       Who — I — am, Sir? — (‘Sdeath! how black he looks!)

      Bethlen. I have started many strange beasts in my time,

       But none less like a man, than this before me

       That lifts his hand against a timid female.

      Laska. Bold youth! she’s mine.

      Glycine. No, not my master yet, 240

       But only is to be; and all, because

       Two years ago my lady asked me, and

       I promised her, not him; and if she’ll let me,

       I’ll hate you, my lord’s steward.

      Bethlen. Hush, Glycine!

      Glycine. Yes, I do, Bethlen; for he just now brought 245

       False witnesses to swear away your life:

       Your life, and old Bathory’s too.

      Bethlen. Bathory’s!

       Where is my father? Answer, or —— Ha! gone!

      [LASKA during this time retires from the Stage.

      Glycine. Oh, heed not him! I saw you pressing onward,

       And did but feign alarm. Dear gallant youth, 250

       It is your life they seek!

      Bethlen. My life?

      Glycine. Alas,

       Lady Sarolta even —

      Bethlen. She does not know me!

      Glycine. Oh that she did! she could not then have spoken

       With such stern countenance. But though she spurn me,

       I will kneel, Bethlen —

      Bethlen. Not for me, Glycine! 255

       What have I done? or whom have I offended?

      Glycine. Rash words, ‘tis said, and treasonous of the king.

      [BETHLEN mutters to himself.

      Glycine (aside). So looks the statue, in our hall, o’ the god,

       The shaft just flown that killed the serpent!

      Bethlen. King!

      Glycine. Ah, often have I wished you were a king. 260

       You would protect the helpless every where,

       As you did us. And I, too, should not then

       Grieve for you, Bethlen, as I do; nor have

       The tears come in my eyes; nor dream bad dreams

       That you were killed in the forest; and then Laska 265

       Would have no right to rail at me, nor say

       (Yes, the base man, he says,) that I — I love you.

      Bethlen. Pretty Glycine! wert thou not betrothed —

       But in good truth I know not what I speak.

       This luckless morning I have been so haunted 270

       With my own fancies, starting up like omens,

       That I feel like one, who waking from a dream

       Both asks and answers wildly. — But Bathory?

      Glycine. Hist! ‘tis my lady’s step! She must not see you!

      [BETHLEN retires.

      Enter from the Cottage SAROLTA and BATHORY.

      Sarolta. Go, seek your son! I need not add, be speedy — 275

       You here, Glycine? [Exit BATHORY.

      Glycine. Pardon, pardon, Madam!

       If you but saw the old man’s son, you would not,

       You could not have him harmed.

      Sarolta. Be calm, Glycine!

      Glycine. No, I shall break my heart.

      Sarolta. Ha! is it so?

       O strange and hidden power of sympathy, 280

       That of — like fates, though all unknown to each,

       Dost make blind instincts, orphan’s heart to orphan’s

       Drawing by dim disquiet!

      Glycine. Old Bathory —

      Sarolta. Seeks his brave son. Come, wipe away thy tears.

       Yes, in good truth, Glycine, this same Bethlen 285

       Seems a most noble and deserving youth.

      Glycine. My lady does not mock me?

      Sarolta. Where is Laska?

       Has he not told thee?

      Glycine. Nothing. In his fear —

       Anger, I mean — stole off — I am so fluttered —

       Left me abruptly —

      Sarolta. His shame excuses him! 290

       He is somewhat hardly tasked; and in discharging

       His own tools, cons a lesson for himself.

       Bathory and the youth henceforward live

       Safe in my lord’s protection.

      Glycine. The saints bless you!

       Shame on my graceless heart! How dared I fear, 295

       Lady Sarolta could be cruel?

      Sarolta. Come,

       Be yourself, girl!

      Glycine. O, ‘tis so full here!

       And now it can not harm him if I tell you,

       That the old man’s son —

      Sarolta. Is not that old man’s son!

       A destiny, not unlike thine own, is his. 300

       For all I know of thee is, that thou art

       A soldier’s orphan: left when rage intestine

       Shook and engulphed the pillars of Illyria.

       This other fragment, thrown back

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