Part 31 (2/2)

Hugo: By birth He is a countryman of thine, Thora. What writing is this on earth?

I can scarce decipher a line.

Harold: The pen in the clutch of death works ill.

Hugo: Nay, I read now; the letters run More clearly.

Harold: Wilt grant the request?

Hugo: I will.

Harold: Enough! Then my task is done. (He holds out his hand.) Hugo, I go to a far-off land, Wilt thou say, ”G.o.d speed thee!” now?

Hugo: Sir Harold, I cannot take thy hand, Because of my ancient vow.

Harold: Farewell, then.

Thora: Friend, till the morning wait.

On so wild a night as this Thou shalt not go from my husband's gate; The path thou wilt surely miss.

Harold: I go. Kind lady, some future day Thy care will requited be.

Thora: Speak, Hugo, speak.

Hugo: He may go or stay, It matters little to me.

[Harold goes out.]

Thora: Husband, that man is ill and weak; On foot he goes and alone Through a barren moor in a night-storm bleak.

Eric: Now I wonder where he has gone!

Hugo: Indeed, I have not the least idea; The man is certainly mad.

He wedded my sister, Dorothea, And used her cruelly bad.

He was once my firmest and surest friend, And once my deadliest foe; But hate and friends.h.i.+p both find their end-- Now I heed not where he may go.

SCENE--A Chamber in the Castle.

HUGO, THORA, and ERIC.

Hugo: That letter that came from Palestine, By the hands of yon wandering Dane, Will cost me a pilgrimage to the Rhine.

Thora: Wilt thou travel so soon again?

Hugo: I can scarce refuse the dying request Of my comrade, Baldwin, now; His bones are dust. May his soul find rest He once made a foolish vow, That at Englemehr, 'neath the watchful care Of the Abbess, his child should stay, For a season at least. To escort her there I must start at the break of day.

Thora: Is it Agatha that goes, or Clare?

Hugo: Nay, Clare is dwelling in Spain With her spouse.

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