Part 10 (2/2)

Mother. Ay! Thou canst think of nothing but thy love. If it only did not put everything else out of thy head. Thou shouldst have more regard for Brackenburg, I tell thee. He may make thee happy yet some day.

Clara. He?

Mother. Oh, yes! A time will come! You children live only in the present, and give no ear to our experience. Youth and happy love, all has an end; and there comes a time when one thanks G.o.d if one has any corner to creep into.

Clara (shudders, and after a pause stands up). Mother, let that time come--like death. To think of it beforehand is horrible! And if it come!

If we must--then--we will bear ourselves as we may. Live without thee, Egmont! (Weeping.) No! It is impossible.

[Enter Egmont (enveloped in a horseman's cloak, his hat drawn over his face).

Egmont. Clara!

Clara (utters a cry and starts back). Egmont! (She hastens towards him.) Egmont! (She embraces and leans upon him.) O thou good, kind, sweet Egmont! Art thou come? Art thou here indeed!

Egmont. Good evening, Mother?

Mother. G.o.d save you, n.o.ble sir! My daughter has well-nigh pined to death, because you have stayed away so long; she talks and sings about you the live-long day.

Egmont. You will give me some supper?

Mother. You do us too much honour. If we only had anything--

Clara. Certainly! Be quiet, Mother; I have provided everything; there is something prepared. Do not betray me, Mother.

Mother. There's little enough.

Clara. Never mind! And then I think when he is with me I am never hungry; so he cannot, I should think, have any great appet.i.te when I am with him.

Egmont. Do you think so? (Clara stamps with her foot and turns pettishly away.) What ails you?

Clara. How cold you are to-day! You have not yet offered me a kiss. Why do you keep your arms enveloped in your mantle, like a new-born babe? It becomes neither a soldier nor a lover to keep his arms m.u.f.fled up.

Egmont. Sometimes, dearest, sometimes. When the soldier stands in ambush and would delude the foe, he collects his thoughts, gathers his mantle around him, and matures his plan and a lover--

Mother. Will you not take a seat, and make yourself comfortable? I must to the kitchen, Clara thinks of nothing when you are here. You must put up with what we have.

Egmont. Your good-will is the best seasoning.

[Exit Mother.

Clara. And what then is my love?

Egmont. Just what thou wilt.

Clara. Liken it to anything, if you have the heart.

<script>