o\^ ' %'^-\o^ V^^*\/ V^'^^^' .^ ^0 ^^ •„ *J* yt^fr *■ ^iK'awwk^ <• A. /v ♦ft THE SIN OF ST. HULDA OR LOVE AND FAITH AN ORIGINAL PLAY IN FOUR ACTS BY G. STUART OGILVIE ^- it- " And faith, Creating what it feigned." — Shelley. RAHWAY, N. J. THE MERSHON CO. 1896 K -^r.^^ Copyright, 1896, BY G. STUART OGLIVIE. CHARACTERS. Heinric, Baron of Mindenburg. ■Otho, Prince of Halberstadt. John Knipperdolling, Burgomaster of Mindenburg. KONRAD, the Printer, NiKAULAS, the Vintner, Hermann, the Bootmaker, )- Councillors of Mindenburg. Franz, the Butcher, | I Stortebeker, the Brewer, J Manteuffel, KnipperdoUing's brother-in-law. Joachim, Ulric, George, Ernst, Maximilian, Tapster at the " Golden Goose." Citizen, Soldiers, Burghers, Citizens, etc., etc. . >- Heinric's friends. Leisse, I V Courtesans. Marte, ) Friederike, Hostess of the " Golden Goose." St. Hulda. Burghers' Wives — Children, etc., etc. THE SIN OF ST. HULDA. ACT I. The Call. ACT II. A Protestant. ACT III. " Splendide Mendax." ACT IV. The Cry of Imperfection. Scene. — The Free Imperial City of Mindenburg, Germany. Time. — 1552. Six months are supposed to elapse between Acts I, and II. and eight weeks between Acts III. and IV. d 1/. THE SIN OF ST. HULDA; OR, LOVE AND FAITH. ACT I. Scene I. Interior of " The Golden Goose.'' Evening. Large window, R. Arched entrance, R. U. E. Door, L. U. E. Fireplace and door L. Tables, chairs, benches, etc. Some Villagers, Soldiers, and Travellers discovered drinking. Max and Frieder- ike waiting on them. Laughter and clatter of tank- ards. Traveller [Rapping on table.'] What ho, there ! The score ! Max. At your service, sirs, at your service. [Goes to them. Enter a well-dressed Citizen, R. U. E. who crosses to Friederike. Stage begins to clear. Citizen. [Aside to Frieke.] Glaube. Frieke. [Curtseying, and signing to door, L. U. E.] You are late, sir. The brethren are all assembled. Cit. [Aside.'\ Does St. Hulda preach to-night ? Frieke. Ay, sir ; I hope to hear her myself, when we have closed the house. 2 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i, Cit. Have a care — our enemies are many. \_Exit, L. U. E. Stage clears. Exeunt Sol- diers last, laughing and singing, R. U. E.. Stage clears, leaving Max and Frieke. Max. \Coining down.~\ Frieke ! Frieke. Well ? Max. Did you hear what the soldiers were saying? Frieke. Yes. They were agreeing I was the comeliest wench they'd seen since the wars ! Max. \Furious?\ Who said that? Which of 'em — eh ? Which of 'em ? Frieke. Max, you're jealous. Max. Jealous! No — but all soldiers are goats. Frieke. Hush ! You were a soldier yourself once^ Max, but what else were they saying ? Max. That Prince Otho is on the road to Halle to arrest St. Hulda. Frieke. Well, let him go to Halle, he'll not find her there. Max. But Mindenburg is on his line of march — if he were to call here, Frieke, what should we do ? Frieke. Nothing. Max. [Pointing to door, L. U. E.] But St. Hulda? Frieke. Hold your tongue, jay bird, hold your tongue that's all you've got to do. \Goes L. U. E.] Leave the rest to me. Max. Ah! \_Scratches his head.'] A widow thinks she knows everything, but she don't. [Knock off R. U. E. Frieke. [Starting.'] What's that ? [Huns down to Max. Max. [Calmly.] Nothing. [Knock repeated. Frieke. [Catching his arm.] Oh, Max — if it should be Otho, what shall we do ? Max. Why, hold our tongues, to be sure. [Strolls slowly up, L. U. E. [Kttock repeated. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 3 Frieke. I can't — I can't — I want to scream. [Max opens door. Enter Knipperdolling and Stortebeker. Knip. Why close your doors so early, pretty mouse ? Frieke. \Curtseying?\ So please you, sir. Stort. "Your Worship," dame, "Your Worship." Master Knipperdolling has been elected Burgo- master. Frieke. Oh ! {Curtseying^ Your Worship, par- don, your Worship. K^iip. {Chucking her under the chin.'] There's no offence, my pretty one. {To Max.] A bottle of Johannisberg. {Exit Max, L. We have friends that follow us and would have supper. Frieke. Supper, your Worship ? It grows late. Knip. And will be later yet before we part, for we are frolicsome, my mouse. A little fellowship, a little feasting. Oh! I can be Belshazzar an I choose — a little " clink-clink," and man becomes a brother, eh, Stortebeker? But what for supper? Stort. Something light and luring. Enter Max with wine. Knip. A sucking pig, eh ? with an onion in his belly and cherries in his mouth — eh ? Preserved cherries, mouse — dip 'em in treacle and temper 'em with brandy for the stomach's sake, eh? Stort. A dream — a dream ! Max. {Aside.] Nightmare, I hope! Frieke. {Curtseying?}^ I'll do my best, your Wor- ship. Knip. {Patting her cheeky Mouse ! [Max sets wine on table abruptly. Frieke. {Beckoning Max.] They will be here all night. We must warn the brethren ! 4 LOVE AND FAITH. [ACT i. Max. {Glancing at Knip.] Hog's flesh ! {Exeunt Frieke and M Ay., L. Knip. {Helping wim.l Stortebeker, " Our- selves ! " God bless us ! SUrt. Amen ! You've done it at last, your Worship ! Knip. A little burrowing, a little policy. - Oh ! I can be a politician an I choose — a little " Hum, hum," and here I am, the Burgomaster. Stort. Thanks to your good brother-in-law. Knip. {With sudden fervor.'] If I could commit Manteuff'el to six months' imprisonment I would die happy, Stort. He never forgave you for marrying his sister. Knip. Ha, ha ! a little romance — a little rhym- ing. Oh ! I can come the poet an I choose — a little " tra-la-la," — and the widow was mine. Stort. And the finest wool-trade in Mindenburg to boot. Knip. No, Stortebeker, no. Manteuffel manages that. It's "Brother, what o' the market?" and " Brother, what o' the books ? " and " Brother, what o' the balance ? " And if I need a groschen I have to go to " Brother " for it ; /, the Burgomaster of Mindenburg ! Stort. Ah, but you owe that honour to him. Knip. Wormwood ! wormwood ! I shall be his creature in the Rathhaus too. I dare not offend him and his party. Stort. The Purity Party ! Knip. Oh ! if I could commit Manteuffel for Stort. Hush ! Here come the others ! Enter Konrad, Nikolaus, and Franz, R. U. E. Knip. Welcome, gentlemen, welcome ! Be seated. Supper is on the way. A little sucking SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 5 pig with an onion in its belly and cherries in its mouth — will't suit the occasion? \Ge rural and greedy approval from Burghers, ivho sit at the table. Nik. That was a fine speech of yours from the chair, Burgomaster. Knip. A little eloquence, a little fire. Oh ! I can be a Cicero an I choose — a little " Phew," and the thing is done. Nik. What were your words, " Peace and purity, but no Protestors here ?" That was a fine thing to say. Knip. Politic, eh ? Profound, eh ? Nik. Ay, indeed, for Maurice of Saxony has imprisoned his Protestant father-in-law. Knip. [Aside.] Would it had been my Catholic brother-in-law. Nik. And declared for Order and Orthodoxy. Franz. They say the Emperor is using his Spanish soldiers to stamp out heresy in Germany. Nik. With Prince Otho at their head. Knip. Ah ! I remember when the Prince was only Earl the Bastard, eating the bread of charity at the late Baron's Schloss. Nik. And now he is the Emperor's own favorite, a hard man, a hard and cruel man. Franz. And it will go hard with the Protesters, or I'm no butcher. Nik. Well, well, we may have 'em here yet. Knip. Never! A little firmness, a little force. Oh ! I can be the Draco an I choose — a little ^' Ugh, ugh," and the matter's settled. Nik. I don't know — St. Hulda is at Halle. Franz. And who is St. Hulda? Knip. A dangerous, disturbing, disordering Pro- tester. Her. The people worship her. Nik. But wherefore " St. Hulda " ? 6 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. Franz, /don't know — ask the bookman here. Kon. 'Tis an old German myth. Hulda was the Saxon Diana, the gentle, pure moon-maiden whose kingdom lay in children's hearts — and those she loved the most she gathered i' the bud, setting their little souls as stars around her silver throne. Franz. Oh, that's it, is it ? But what about sup- per, eh ? Enter Manteuffel, R.' U. E. Enter Frieke and Max with supper, L. Onines. Ha! ha! it comes! it comes! Ma7i. {Down R.] Brother John, good evening ! Knip. \In weak voice.^ Brother Manteuffel — Avel- come ! Man. Does my sweet sister know of this? Kjiip. No, brother, but she will. Man. Yes, verily, she shall. Knip. Wilt sit with us at supper? Man. These carnal joys are not for us, my brother. The Protester is knocking at our gates — he charges us with corruption, concupiscence, and unclean living. He calls for reformation. He is right ! We need reformation from within ! Franz. We've nothing within to reform yet. Man. What have we to do with belly-lures? Sausages, herrings, prunes, and sauerkraut ! Oh^ shame of Baal Peor ! Put them away, my brother,, put them away, Knip. {Weakly?^ Put them away ! [Frieke removes thetn. Ma?i. A sucking pig! Shall we who fight for purity pander to a sucking pig? Remove the beast ; it's unclean ! Knip. \Weakly.^ Remove the sucking pig. [Frieke removes it. Man. Let us not tarry ! Thy loving wife awaits thee, brother. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 7 Knip. My loving wife ! {Finishes glass?^ God bless her ! Let us go ! \All rise. Man. What, go you too, gentlemen? Ah, better so, better so ! Purity, gentlemen, purity! Franz. Good night all ! Man. Come, my brother, home. Ghostly com- fort waits us there. Knip. I yearn for it, I yearn ! {Exeunt Burghers. Frieke. {Clapping hands.'] Oh, merciful deliver- ance ! I thought they would be here till day-dawn ! Clear, Max, clear ! {Max clears and exits with things, L. Enter Knipperdolling stealthily. Knip. Send not the reckoning home. I'll call myself to-morrow. Frieke. {Smiling.'] I understand, your Worship. Knip. {Approaching her.] Fie ! fie ! You are a sprightly creature. Frieke. Oh, your Worship, you frighten me ! Knip. {Arm round waist.] Mouse ! The Burgo- master is your friend. Frieke. Can I trust your Worship ? Knip. {Kissing her.] Aslamaman — Enter Max, L. — and a magistrate, I say — I said Magistrate — I would fain be thy Protector. Man. {Off?^ Purity, gentlemen, purity ! Knip. Perdition ! {Exit, R. U. E. Max. {To her fiercely.] Why did you let him kiss you ? Frieke. Will not soap and water rectify the sin ? Max. I hate you, and I've done with you forever. I'll to the wars again, and not come back till I am dead and buried ! 8 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. Frieke. Yes, go, Max, go and leave me to fight for the Cause as best I may! We are harboring St. Hulda at the risk of our lives. If it were known that she is at this moment preaching to the Brethren in yonder loft, my house would be for- feited and I should be thrown into gaol. You had better go, and that speedily, before we are arrested ! Max. Oh, call me a coward ! Why did you let him kiss you ? Frieke. How could I help it — an old man too ! Max. They are the worst ! Frieke. Bald-headed ! Max. A mark of the beast ! Frieke. And the priest. Max. Max. And last week I saw the Baron Heinric kiss you. Frieke. {Indignantly^ For the good of the house — and he's only a boy ! Max. A boy ! I believe he was a man before he cut his teeth! A wine-bibbing, wench-loving, law- breaking rake-helly, who respects neither God nor woman. Boy indeed ! But they're all boys or old men with you. Frieke. Yes — all except one. Oh, Maximilian, you've the heart of a lion, but the head of a sheep — sit down and be sane. {She sits, and Max sits by her and tries to take her hand. I said be sane ! Now, Hulda Max. St. Hulda! Ah, God bless her! Audit was you who brought her here ! Where did you meet her, Frieke ? Frieke. Oh, long before I knew you or Minden- burg. Eight years ago, come Christmas time, I found her wandering in the snow and brought her unto Luther. Poor child, poor child ! a girl in years, a woman in her suffering. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 9 Max. Suffering? What do you mean, Frieke ? Frieke. \_Conftised,'\ Mean? How? Why, her father and her brother's were leaders of the Peas- ants' Secret League, They were betrayed by treachery, and hung before her eyes. But that's a secret. Max — you'll never breathe it to a soul ? Max. I'd slit my tongue before I said a word that might cause Hulda pain. Frieke. The past is done with, but what about the future ? Otho hunts for her hard by, and the new Burgomaster threatens here. Max. Bide events, bide events! St. Hulda — Heaven bless her ! — hasn't been amongst us a week yet, and already the common folk are hers to a man. Before long we'll have the Councillors on our side,, and maybe the Burgomaster too. Frieke. [ Touching her cheek.~\ By this same token. Max. Max. \_Grimly.'] And the spendthrift Baron Heinric, eh ? Frieke. \_Laughing.~\ I fear he's past salvation. But as for the others, who knows ? St. Hulda would tell us to have faith, that is what she always preaches — it is the text of her sermon to-night. Let us go in and hear her. [^Up L. U. E.] But mind, I will not have you hold my hand — till sermon time — it is disturbing. Come! \^Loud knocks and horn off R. U. E. Frieke runs to and Max clings to his arm. What's that ? Max ! Max ! 'Tis Otho ! \Knocks repeated. Max opens the door, and enter Ernst, blowing horn, and followed by Ulric Ernst. Supper, supper for six. Ulric. The Baron Heinric has been wounded by a bear, and will rest awhile on his way to the Schloss. Quick! here he comes — wine and supper, quick! S^Exit Max. lo LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. Enter Heinric, carried sedan chair-wise, by Joachim and Georg. The friends whoop and cheer noisily. Hein. Nay, set me down, good friends, for I can walk. I am but bruised, not broken ; the only- plaster that I need is supper, and that badly ! {^Sees Frieke.] Ha ! ha ! my little mother. Frieke. \To him, curtseying^ Oh, my lord ! you are not hurt ? Hein. Just enough for the gossip, but not enough for the grave-digger, little mother. How fares it with you ? Frieke. Well, so please my lord. Enter Max with wine. Hein. But still wearing of the weeds! {Takes wine from Max.] Here's to a new true man for thee ! Frieke. Once bit, twice shy, my lord. Hein. Twice kissed, thrice bold, little mother! \Kisses her ; bus. for MAX.] And now set us a supper in your cosy closet. Frieke. Oh, my lord, I fear our larder, for we did not look for noble company, and the hour is late. Hein. Tut, tut, little mother! we bring the best of sauce — a hunter's appetite. Away ! \_Exeunt Max and Frieke. Ulric. {Producing dice.l And while we wait, I'll have one throw with thee. Hein. I'm with thee, Ulric. {They begin to play. Enter Liese and Marte, R. U. E., laughing and chattering. Ernst. {Suddenly rousing?^ Ha, ha, the little angels ! SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. ii Ulric. [Aside, disgusted^ Bah ! These women ! Love and hazard never did agree ! Hein. Liese ! Marte ! Liese. La! But we heard you were a-dying ! [Stands by him. Heiti. [Shakes dice and throws laughingly?^ Not yet! [Wins.'l Liese, you bring me luck ! Ernst. [Solemnly beckoning to Marte.] Come ! [Marte sits by Ernst. Liese. [Laughing?^ I always bring my true love luck! [Caresses him. [ They play in silence. They are cheating you, Heinric ; Ulric lost fifty crowns to your last throw. Ulric. Do not interrupt the game, baggage ! it confuses me. Whose is the throw? [ They play again in silence. Liese. Marte, that crown was mine. Marte. It was my stake. Enter Otho, R. U. E., with Officer and two Soldiers unobserved. He signs to them to be silent and stands watching the gamblers in the red firelight. Liese. I put it there ! Marte. You lie — it's mine ! Liese. [Passional ely.~\ Give it me ! Marte. I won't ! Liese. Cheat, cheat, I'll have it ! [Dashes at her?\ [Confusion. Men rise and restrain them. Hein. Girls, girls, you are for love, not war! Marte. She called me^ Liese. She stole my Hein. Peace, peace ! Otho. You are gay to-night. Hein. Karl ! Ulric. Prince Otho ! ' [All rise — panse. Hein. [Confused.'] Your Highness ! I forgot, sir 12 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. Otho. {Taking his hand?t^ No, you only remem- bered your sometime playfellow? [ They bring a chair forward. Otho sits and waves Heinric, C, to chair beside him j others standi Ulric. {Fawning^ Welcome once more to Min- denburg, your Highness. When we hear from time to time of your Highness's illustrious exploits and splendid career, we are very proud to think your happy childhood was spent within our gates, though doubtless your Highness forgets us now. Otho. \prily^ I remember you, Count Ulric,.. very well. Have you a kerchief? Ah! perfumed, and of lace. You were always dainty, Count. I remember once at the full board you made a pretty jest at my coarse linen. 'Twas clean and neatly mended, and at the time I thought the laugh unjust \ Ulric. {Confused?^ I — I — forget the incident, your Highness. Otho. Ah ! I do not. Karl the Bastard never forgets — his friends. But see, my mud-stained boots disgrace this gentle company. I pray you look to it. Ulric. I'll go fetch a clout, sir. Otho. {Giving kerchief back?^ I never use coarse linen now ; pray you take this. {He stretches out his boot. Ulric kneels and ivipes it and throws the kerchief away r[ Nay, Count, pick it up; pick it up and wear it as a keepsake of a prince's memory ! {To Heinric.^ But tell me of yourself. It was only the news of your accident that stopped me on my march to Halle. I heard that you were badly hurt Hein. A bruise, sir — a mere bruise. But you must see the boar — the biggest ever brought to Mindenburg. We'll have him shown at supper, sir, if you will honor us.' Otho. Nay, Heinric, I must on to Halle. Hein. So urgent, sir? SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 13 Otho. On the Emperor's own quest. I hope ere sunrise to have arrested the mad preacher, Hulda! Hein. Is she so dangerous? Otho. If I can but lay hands on her she'll trouble us no more! The Emperor has sworn to crush this damnable dissent throughout all Germany. Hein. We shall not trouble your Highness much at Mindenburg. Gents. {Together?^ No, no; we need no reforma- tion here ! Otho. {Drily^ So I see; yet, gentlemen, I would not boast ! This restless fever of reform is as catch- '"^^ as the plague, and takes strange victims. Know you Lddy Bertha of Berlin? S^All laugh. Hein. Who did not know her, sir? First in the field, fairest at the Court, boldest at the dice, free with her favours as the summer sun, the maddest, merriest, most daring dame in Saxony. Otho. [Dri/j/.'] Ay, she has been bitten ! Gents. What ? Hein. A Reformer ? Otho. Worse — reformed ! A pervert of St. Hulda ; and she's but one of thousands who have caught this itch of reformation and have found a "con- scious heart." Hein. Now,, may the good Lord keep that " con- scious heart " from our dear maids at Mindenburg when next we go a-Maying. Georg. Amen ! Amen ! Ernst. [Aside.l I have a conscious stomach which tells me it's supper time. Hein. [Latighing.l A woman with a " conscious heart " can be no friend to man ! What says your Highness ? Otho. If this derelict craft of love may speak, it has outgrown your welcome wench. I owe every- thing to this same " conscious heart." Hein. How so, sir? 14 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i, Otho. You remember the pleasant plot which I unmasked ten years ago ? Hem. Well, sir, we seemed on the brink of another rising as bloody as that of '24. Otho. That discovery was the turning point in my career, for it brought me into the imperial presence. I was a twelve-month tracing out that plot, living amongst the peasants as Sigbert the Fowler, one of themselves. It was a strange life. Hein. But the conscious heart, sir? Otho. Ah, yes ! While staying close to Nurem- berg, I met a little peasant with a conscious hearty the sweetest, sauciest, most saintly little Protestant that ever prayed with tears against temptation, yet laughed to meet it at the lychgate after church. The old Eve was stronger than the new Evangel. I won that heart, and it was she who told me of the plot. Hein. Who was she, sir? Otho. The daughter of old Kunz, the ploughman,, leader of the Peasants' Secret League. Her name was Katchen. Hein. What became of her ? Otho. I often wonder. I would I knew ! After her father and her two brothers had been seized and — and put away, I sent for her. She had fled,, and we could find no trace of her. Poor Katchen ! \Rising^^ Gentlemen, a parting toast — to " Katchen of the Conscious Heart." Hein. [Aside.] Poor Katchen ! {All drink. Otho. Heinric, one word with you. Gentle- men, good-night ! [At a sign from Otho, Officers and Soldiers all exeunt^ bowing, except Otho and Heinric. Trust not these harpies and these harlots ! Hein. Sir, they are my friends. Otho. [Drily.] Ah ! I hear your fortune is much, pinched. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. i§ Hein. \LaiigJmig?^ Pinched, sir ! 'Tis squeezed to the last drop. OtJio. \Laying hand on him.^ I have never for- gotten you were good to me. Hein. No, no ! 1 loved you, Karl ! OtJio. Ay, you loved Karl the Bastard. You see that wound is healed, and I can show it with "a laugh ; but in those days it hurt, it hurt ! Mine was a cruel schooling, Heinric — the covert sneer, the contemptuous patronage, the supercilious charity of little men like Ulric and his provincial peers. It hardened me, it hardened. But you — you always treated " the Bastard " as your equal. Hein. No, Karl, as my superior. You knew the lure to tempt the freckled trout ; you knew the snare to lift the greedy pike ; you'd call the curlew, whistle plover from their circling flight ; you knew the otter's lair, the eagle's nest, the chamois' haunt — in all the mysteries of wood and water-ways you were my tutor and my king. Otho. {Laughs?^ And now, instead of birds and beasts and fishes, I'll teach you how to trap their master — man. Hein. [^Laughing.^ I was never a checkerman. In our winter-fireside games you always gave me a queen, and a beating ! Otho. We'll not play against each other ; we'll play against the world. Wilt come "with me to Court? Hein. To Court, Karl ? Otho. Ay, to Court. We'll climb Fame's ladder side by side. Hein. Give me time to think, sir. Otho. No, I will fetch You after Halle. You shall come with me. And serving me shall serve your own regard, \_Rises. Heinric, we stand in roaring times when men i6 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. May carve their names across the Continents. Our Germany has quickened with new life, Her pangs come sharper with each hour ; None know what her fierce labour may bring forth, But at a nation's yearning time the wise Man plays the midwife to his own design. And mine is {Breaks off with a laugh. First to catch this saintly eel. Twice have my fingers closed on her to find That she is gone! But not again ! I know That's she at Halle ; if she breaks this way, Take her, good Heinric, take and hold her fast ! He in. {Laughing?^ Saints are not of my sort, but if she comes, I'll cleave to her with all the Devil's grip. Otho. Do, and your future is assured ! {Exit Otho, R. U. E. Heinric looks after him. Hein. A good friend and a grim enemy ! I would rather serve than cross you. Prince. Ho, Ulric, Georg ! Enter Ulric Ernst, Georg, Joachim, Liese, a«^ Marte, L. Drink to my reformation ; the Prince would make a courtier of me. Joac. Has he gone ? Liese. La, how he frightened me ! He looked as ugly as the lazar house ! Marte. And as cold as the grave ! Ulric. Bastard ! Hein. \Ciip in hand?\^ A full purse, a proud position. Farewell to this provincial poverty! Hail, Royal Patronage! Toast me, friends, my fortune's made. {All drink. Enter Max, L. He steals up towards door, L. U. E. Hi! Max! SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 17 Max. \_Ttir Jiiiig co?if used. ~\ My lord! Hein. Why is not supper served ? Max. It is on the way, my lord, [Aside.'] I must warn the brethren ; if they raise the even song before we get these roysterers away, we are all lost. Enter Frieke, L. Frieke. My lord, the supper waits. [Applause and general laughter. Hem. Good news ! Come, girls, who'll queen the board ? Liese. {To him, R.] Me, me ! Marie. [To him, L.] Me, me ! Hein. Me, me ! Me, me! Judgment of Paris! But I'll take you both. Black Beauty and White Wickedness ! [Takes their hands.] To supper all ! [Hymn heard off. All pause. Max and Frieke look at one another j bus. Frieke. [Aside.] The hymn ! And Otho scarce beyond the yard. They'r^e lost. Hein. Friederi.ke, what is that ? Frieke. That ! What, my lord ? Hein. That ! Joac. 'Tis one of Luther's hymns. Georg. Reform has reached us e'en at Minden- burg. Ulrtc. [Pointing to D. L. U. E.] And they are there ! Hein. Friederike ! Ernst. [Catching up hunting horn.] I'll blow them such a trump they'll think it is the last ! Hein. No, no ! Grace before meat — let's join the Gospellers ! What say you, merry nuns and Bully acolytes ? [General laughter and assent. Frieke. My lord, my lord, these poor folk are in earnest. i8 LOVE AND FAITH. [act i. Hein. {^Laughing.'] Earnest, little mother! ear- nest ! So am I ! Are the Protestants to do all the protesting ? By Bacchus, no ! We'll protest against this gloomy righteousness, this conscious heart, this ghostly hypochondria ! We'll preach 'em a sermon \Jiands on womeit] in black and white straight from the Book of Life, with old Ernst there as an awful illustration, the Death's Head of Debauch ! Come, boys, let's shame these murky moths with our gay butterflies ! Whoop ! [Sings.'] There's a pricket in the thicket, Rubbing velvet off his palms, Him we'll follow with a holloa, And the hunter's loud alarms ! [Dances off with the two wotneti, followed by the rest laughing and singing.. Frieke. We're lost, we're lost ! [Exeunt Frieke and M.ax, folloiving them. [Luther s hymn louder during dark change to Scene II. Scene II. Interior of a bare, whitewashed loft, with door and a few steps L., and a rude platfor^n C, on which St. Hulda is discovered, hmriediately behind her head, back C, is a bull's eye window, which gives the effect of an aureole round her head. In frofit and round her stands a motley crowd, some richly dressed, some in rags, raising Luther's hymn, the last bars of which cease as the lights go tip. Enter Heinric, Y,., followed by Frieke. The rest of the party peer in at the doorway. The congregation kneels as St. Hulda delivers the final benediction. St. Hulda. So peace go with you, and the stead- fastness And quiet exaltation born of Faith, Faith is Man's one necessity ; all else SCENE 2.] LOVE AND FAITH. 19 A complement to that essential grace. For as a father to his growing son Shall suit advice to each development, So it may be God's messages are sent To march with human apprehensiveness, And the world sloughs its old belief to find An ampler creed beneath. Belief Is but the body of our thought, and mortal Faith is the soul, th' immortal lambent link Between Life's meaning and Death's mystery ; Words shall not fashion it nor works ensure. What man can tell his passion for his maid, What woman speak her yearnings for her babe? These things are felt, not phrased, and so with Faith, Faith is the Pharos of our pilgrim race, Lost on the plains of Darkness and Dismay. Be yours that light — a pin-point in the dark. But steadfast as a star it shall not set. Till o'er the beetling hill-tops which have reared Fixed limitations to man's finite reach. The sluice of Dawn be lifted, and the flood Of God's illumination palpitates Above us, in us, of us — and we know ! Dear Lord, I pray thee give Thy people Faith ! [A burst of mocking laughter from the party at the door, which Frieke hastily shuts in their faces. Heinric sta7ids transfixed. Frieke^ [Creeping to his elbow.'] My lord, you'll not betray us to the Prince? Hein. [With his eyes still on HULDA]. It is Frieke. St. Hulda ! CURTAIN. END OF ACT I. 20 LOVE AND FAITH. [act IK ACT II. Six months are supposed to have elapsed. Scene : A room in the " Golden Goosey All siveet and fresh, but very simple. Bright summer morning. Long bow window, back looking into street. Door i?ita street, L. C. B. Doors into house, R, and R. U. E. Window, L. Table and chairs, R. Settee, L. Large oak chest, C. B, St. YixiiAiX discovered at spinning wheel. Frieke busying herself at oak chest and singing. Frieke's Song. A soldier grim from the war is home, And there's spring in the apple tree. A maiden laughs through the pink-lipped foam That is splashing the apple tree. In vain he seeks her heart to storm, She's hedged by blossoms white and warm, The flower must fall ere fruit shall form In the lap of the apple tree. Frieke. My heart is full of song-birds this bright morn And you are silent, sister. Why so sad ? [ To her affectionately. St. Hulda. My thoughts are with the snows of other days, What time you found me Frieke. Hush ! Put it away t Put it away, dear sister, it is past. St, H. Oh ! but this cank'ring sense of secrecy, Of flash pretence, is eating out my heart. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 21 It cripples me ! It quells, e'en when the word Wells up in glad conviction, and I feel My people's heart beat pulse for pulse with mine. Satan will touch my elbow, whispering, "Tell them the past. Tell them of Nuremburg. Tell them thou'st lived in sin. Tell them the truth. Saint Hypocrite." Frieke. What were the blessed words We read last night at pray'r ? " Neither do I Condemn thee — go and sin no more." St. H. At times I long to stand up in the market place And cry the truth ! Frieke. But Luther, knowing all. Still sent you forth to preach the word. He made You promise St. H. Aye, I hear his voice to-day, Deep with the dignity of tears unshed. As it swept through me in his dying hours : " Promise to keep thy peace. Not for thy sake, But for the weaker brethren. We fight \Luthers hymn heard sung by children in distance. Not for the strong, but feeble. Keep thy peace." He stood so near to God, I promised him, And yet Frieke. You'll keep that promise, sister. Hark! \_Hymn louder. The brethren greet you on your birthday! \Hymn louder. St. H. The children ! \Rims to the door, L. C. B.,. and looks off.^ Yea, all the school — each with a bunch of hedge-row bloom tight in their tiny hands; and all wear favours like thine own. Frieke. I made them all, and call them " Faith's Favours." The Brethren will march the streets to-day with them, to show that they are Hulda's folk. 22 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. SL H. How pretty ! I must kiss you for the thought. \Kisses her.'] And here they come. Come in — come in ! {^Enter Children and Villagers, all wearing favours, also Max, C. B. The Children run up and prese?it their Utile posies of flowers. The Villagers ratige themselves at back. The Children dance a country dance before Hulda, who watches them with delight., then suddenly , like a child, she herself joins in the measure. Serio-comic dance for Hulda and a tiny Child, zvhich ends in Hulda's catching her up and kissing her. Others laugh and applaud. Voices. " Heaven bless you, Hulda ! " " The Lord send you many happy birthdays." " Health and happiness to you ! " St. H. \Moved?^ Thanks, thanks, good friends ! Max. So please you, dear Saint, some of us have a few trifles for your kind acceptance. Here be €ggs and butter, a country cheese, a chicken, a chap, — home cured, — and good white bread. \^The CiTiz^ns file past, giving their little presents. Pri7tter. {Forward, giving hook.'] With the author's best wishes. St. H. {Reading.] " Chats with the Devil, or Evenings in Hell." Is this for me? Printer. Indeed it is! I wrote and printed it all myself. It is a rousing allegory, full of shocks and horrors. It ought to sell, but it don't. If you could mention it in your next sermon it might be helpful to the Brethren. You will find the printer's name on the title page. St. H. Oh, yes, I see ! I'll not forget. Citizen. Here's a bottle of treacle water, lady. Made it myself. A certain cure for corns, warts, bunions, and flat feet. Maybe you suffer from such complaint ? SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 23 St. H. Not just at present. Citizen. \CrestfallenP\ Oh, I am sorry ! {Bright- ening?\ But you may, you know. The flesh is heir to all ills — you may. I should keep it handy. St. H. Indeed I will! [Bootmaker thrusts a pair of shoes into Hulda's hands and sidles off. For me? Boot. \_N adding^ I made 'em. St. H. S^Putting on first one and then the otlier, walks proudly up and doivn.~\ How grand ! They feel familiar as old friends! How guessed you so exactly ? Boot. Dame Friederike stole me this. Yfroduces old shoe. St. H. Barabbas ! Boot. I'd like — if 'tis no offence — I'd like to keep it. St. H. It's worn out. Boot. {Putting it in breast^ Aye — walking heavenwards ! Old Woman. An' here be a little something I ha' worked wi' my own hands to keep 'ee warm come Christmas time. [ Unfolds a woollen cape of hideous colors and design. St. H. [Aghast.^ How — how wonderful ! Old W. Aye, aye, I chose the wools myself, an' a nice large pattern, as my sight ain't what it was fifty years ago. St. H. \_Putting it on.^ It's very soft and warm. Old W. \_Proudly.'] Aye, aye ! I always wear the like myself. {Looking at St. Hulda dubiously.'] Somehow, I don't know — somehow it looks a little gay. You don't think them colors seem owdacious, do you? St. H. {Kissing her.] Fear not, dear mother — your work defies improvement. Frieke. Now, neighbours, we've all our work to do, and so has Sister Hulda. Make good days. 24 LOVE AND FAITH. [act m Voices. [Going.'] " Aye, aye, good-day ! " " God bless you, sister," " Heaven send you many happy birthdays," etc., etc. St. H. Dear friends, I know not how to thank you. Thank you all. [Villagers go off, L. C. B. Children crowd round her. And you, my little ones, I'll wear your flowers at school to-night. Till then — good-by ! Children. Good-by, good-by, dear Mistress Hulda ! \_Exeunt Children, L. C. B. St. H. Well, Sister Frieke, and what news ? Frieke. The town Council sits this morning. St. H. I know. I have been bidden to attend and learn their decision — whether I am to be suffered to remain or be expelled from Minden- burg. Frieke. If the council listens to the people's voices, your safety is secured. St. H. I fear our enemies will prevail. Frieke. Nay, thy friends are just as numerous. They say it depends upon the Burgpmaster. St. H. The Burgomaster — " unstable as water." Frieke. Oh, there is hope ! The Burgomaster hath professed great admiration for me. Max. \_At back — sardonically?^ Ha! ha! That's quaint ! Frieke. You! \Turning?\ There, lazy-bones! get you to your taps at once ! Max. If that Knipperdolling comes here again, he'll leave feet foremost — for I'll kill him ! St. H. Have patience. Max, have patience I {Taking favour off Frieke's breast and plaining it on to Max.] There ! Faith's favour : wear it as a token you trust her. Max. Ah ! Sister, you're an angel, and it's easy enough to believe in you. But she — she's a widow — and one's never quite sure. I do try to be SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 25 one of the faithful — indeed I do, dear Sister, but the faithfullest of the faithful hates to be fooled. \^Exit Max. Frieke. I cannot tell why the good Lord made men and turkey-cocks at all — there's no peace when they're about. You see the mood Max is in ; I daren't tell him the Burgomaster is coming here this morning, and that he's written poetry to me. Listen ! {Produces letter and reads.^ " To the widow of widows " — that's me ! " My heart's afire with sweet desire And passion most disastrous. Oh, Frieke, why may I not die Upon thy bosom alabastrous ! " That's a pretty word, alabastrous ! I like it. " I will be at thy private door at 12 o' the dial. — John." \Laughs, and tosses letter on to the table ^^ And so will I, and so will I — only I must get Max out of the house. St. H. Oh, Frieke ! Master KnipperdolHng has a wife. Frieke. Fear not. He shall return home un- harmed, but I'll have his vote, for the Burgo- master's vtine ! {Exits laughing, R. St. Hulda busies herself with presents. St. H. My people's gifts ! And I once cried aloud There is no good on earth, no God on high ! [Heinric appears at windotv, B. C, with flowers. {Reading on a present?^ " To St. Hulda." Ah ! no saint, but a sad woman ! Heinric, entering L. C, comes down. Hein. Alone, and on this day? St. H. Heinric, my lord ! 26 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. Hein. {Giving flowers?\^ With birthday congratu- tions. St. H. [ With cry of pleasure.'] Oh, how good ! And you remember'd — Hein. That you loved the best Of all the flowers the starry Edelweis. I gathered it at dawn-time on the tops. Wear it, sweet saint, it comes from snowlands pure And lofty as thy soul. [HULDA turns. Why wilt not wear it ? St. H. Not as a saint. Ah ! which of us has right To such a name ? Hein. Then wear it, Modesty, Not for the good in thee, but for the good Thou callest forth in us. Thine influence Sent me to seek the Edelweis on high. St. H. I'll wear it at my heart in memory Of Mindenburg. \Sits at spinning wheel. Hein. Know you that it is six months Since first you came ? St. H. Six months ! So long as that ? Hein. So short as that, and yet it seems to me As if it never could have been but thus. Si. H. It was midwinter then. Hein. And now the warmth Of summer skies. St^-H. And after flower, the fruit ; Then frost again. Hein. Not while St. Hulda shines. St. H. But she will have her passing like the rest. Hein. Hulda, thou wilt not leave us? St. H. Who shall say > There is a story which comes back to me From childhood's treasury. My father's way Was on the deep, the captain of a ship, Who, coming home would love to cosset me Upon his knee before the winter fire. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 27 And tell me stories of preposterous Adventures on far seas. And of all tales I most loved one that told how, after squalls And tempests for six days, his battered ship Lay rolling in the furrows of the gale — For tho' the wind had swooned to breathless calm,. The shaken seas could not forget their moil. My father had relieved the helm, seeing the crew Were worn with sleepless nights, dispirited Unto the verge of open mutiny — Fresh water too ran low, and the salt meats Bred scurvy and foul sores. " Let us put back," The sailors cried. " Death is'our port ahead." And as they lay adrift in misery, The sport of tides, a wonder came to pass, For on the spray-splashed deck — no man knew whence — There dropped a solitary storm-blown bird, A wet-winged wanderer and sorry as themselves. One sailor madeto kill it, with an oath. Out of sheer spleen, but father caught the waif And warmed it at his* heart and gave it food. And at the setting of the murky sun He cast the feathered pilgrim in the air, And lo ! it circled thrice around the ship, Then settled on the mast, and lifting up Its breast, burst out in passionate melody, A song so sweet and clear, the watch awoke Their weary mates to listen. And one said, " It is from home." Another, " 'Tis from God I " And all in whisper, " 'Tis a miracle ! " And through the livelong night the small bird sang Her starlit song — and harps were in the air — Yet when the morning broke the bird was gone — But courage fell upon the listless crew, And on the seventh day they sighted land. Hein. A fairie tale. What brings the fable home? 28 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. Si. H. I am a bird of passage. Hein. Dullard I ! You mean that Mindenbu^g was as the ship? St. H. And you the captain who received the bird. Hein. \To her.'\ Which will not leave us? St. H. Not before day breaks. Hein. And then ? St. H. The swallow must go further north, Preaching the word of summer on the text Of spring. Hein. Nay, but e'en swallows build their nests At last ! St. H. In divers pi'aces. One will find Her rest beneath the roof of man : another God's house affords the shelter of His eaves. ^Seeing his face. Nay look not sad. Hein. {Taking her hand tenderly ?\ Hulda ! St. H. [ Withdrawing her hand hastily.'] My lord ! I mean My hands are rough and scarred with needle-frays. {Looking up smiling. Your saint is but woman after all. Hein. The more saintly for her sex. I hate To see those toilsome scars. St. H. I work to live. Hein. But why such menial work? How many times Have all the Brethren beseeched thee take Some contribution for your daily needs ? St. H. {Smiling.'] A Jewish gentleman once broke his nails Tent making. Hein. Nature never meant the vine Of womanhood to carry its own weight Alone, It can but crawl the earth, Stretching its wistful tendrils to the weeds. Give it support, and lo ! it will o'ertop SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 29 The sterile standard with a crown of frond, And compliment of fruit. SL H. But if the vine Should choose support, deeming as heart of oak What is but touch-wood, so that when the vine Be heavy with its fruit her standard snaps And fails her, and she finds the cluster's wealth. Which she had raised in joy to Heaven, dashed To Earth ? Hein. She knows by instinct, brave from base. St. H. Not always — till too late ! Hein. [To her.'] Ah ! fear not that! I know I am unworthy, but not false. I would not fail thee though we stood alone Accursed by all the world. St. H. [Moving^ My lord — my lord Hein. Raise not that futile barrier. Were I A king, thou still wouldst be my crown ! [Catches her hand. St. H. Let me go ! Hein. Give me thyself in holy custody, Give me the right to fend thee through- the world, To bear thy burdens, fight thy fight through life, Through death till God's deliverance, to wear Thee as my wife. St. H. [Breaks away^ You know not what you ask — It is impossible ! Heiji. Impossible ! St. H. You could not love me if you knew Hein. Thou lovest Another? St. H. There is no such thing as love For such as me. Hein. Thou meanest thou hast a vow ? St. H. Aye so, a vow ! A vow ! Hein. The Devil's vow That would deny the love that God afifirms. 30 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. Think'st thou the virgin purer than the. wife ? Think'st thou the mother lower than the maid ? Or barrenness more beautiful than birth ? Thou knowest it is not. St. H. Love is not for me. Hein. Prize it or spurn it as the worthless thing It is, my love is thine, as I am thine. Thou'st called me from the filthy byre of swine, The wallow of indulgence and gross deeds ; Thou'st turned my feet toward the hill, my face Toward the light. Thou'st called me and I've come. God sent thee to me. Send me not away. \Catching her hand. St. H. [Breaking aivay.l Go ! Go ! You know not what you ask me. Go! I am not what you think me. As you love me, Leave me, nor look upon my face again ! Hein. Hulda, Hulda! What have I said? St. H. You take Advantage of my weakness. I am worn, O'erstrung, my strength is squandered in attempts To comfort others, and you come to me — You whom I looked to as my guard and guide — And tempt me break my vow ! Go, leave me ! Go! Hein. [Pause.] Hulda, forgive me ! Take a vow for vow Until thy work and mine shall be complete. Until the Cause, now cradled on thy breast. Hath grown beyond the need of motherhood, Until the hour that Germany is free, I will not speak to thee of this again. St. H. Heinric! Hein. [To ker.] Thou canst trust me ? St. H. [Giving hand.'] Until death ! Hein. Nay, Till victory, and then SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 31 St. H. No, never that. What has been has been, though God always is. [ With renewal of passion. Oh, but I do deceive thee. Hear the truth It stifles me — turn from me, for I am — I am — Heinric, help ! YPuts handkerchief to her mouth and falls. Heiii. \jC ate king her ?^ Hulda? Blood! \Carries her to chair. Speak, Hulda — speak ! St. H. {Recovering, but half -unconscious?^ Father, I did not know ! No, no, don't curse me ! Brothers, speak for me ! You loved him too. You brought him to our home. You praised his courage and his grace. You called Him friend, and I — I trusted him. Oh, God ! I trusted him, and he will spare your lives. You know not all. He must — he must ! Don't look At me like that, father Hein. Hulda! St. H. {Recognizing him.'] Heinric ! What is 't ? Hein. Thou wert struck down. St. H. Aye so. I know. Tins happened once before at Nuremburg ! They warned me of recurrence. Nay, 'tis past. {Smiling?^ Give me some wine. {He fetches some from the sideboard to table. She drinks. I must to the Rath-haus. Hein. Thou art not fit to St. H. {Smiling.'] Nay, fear not. I bend Where others break. [ Tries to rise, but sinks back. Hein. You see ! Dear Sister, rest ! I'll to the Rath-haus to prepare the way. 32 LOVE AND FAITH. [act li, I'll speak for thee and for our common faith. Courage, dear Hulda, courage! I'm with thee, And God with us. St. H. {Rising^ Aye, go — I'll follow thee. See, I am strong again — there is no time To lose. Thy people need thee. Haste ! \_Exit Heinric, L. C. Weak, weak and wicked. I foresaw the end, And lied unto myself. Lied when I said It could not be. Lied to my double self. Crying, " My soul is dead to earthly love." Knowing I lied, for even as I spake My woman's heart cried out as I have heard An infant's wailing cry waking at night To sudden loneliness. How can I preach The truth, with lips steeped in duplicity? How can I save my people, being lost Myself ! Lost— lost ! l^Exit Hulda, R. U. E, Enter Frieke with bunch of keys, R., followed by Max, carrying lavender heads. Frieke unlocks and opens a chest, R. B. Frieke. There ! Put you the lavender in there. So ! How sweet it smells. I feel that I could roll in it. [^Gives letter.'] Take this to Dame Christian — you know the house ? Max. Aye. 'Tis a long step from here. {^Lays letter on table and assists Frieke. Frieke. Not for your great legs. Ask for the sheets I lent last week, bring them back with you and lay them here. [Arranges things in chest.'\ Then lock the chest again. I'll leave the keys on their peg in the common-room. Max. I'll not be long ! Frieke. \_Laughing.~\ Can you trust me, Max? Max. Yes, yes ! I'll never be jealous again, Frieke. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 33 Frieke. You're sure ? Max. Quite sure ! {^Makes to kiss her. Frieke. No, no ! Get you gone ! Get you gone ! \^Sees him off L. C, B. There, he's safe ! I do believe there'd be a murder if he met the Burgomaster now. But I'll get that vote, or I'm no woman — or widow either ! S^Exit Frieke with keys. Re-enter Max hastily, L. C. B. Max. Faith, I must be in love indeed ! I've got a head on me like a riddle. Where did I put that letter? {Picks tip Knipperdolling's letter 7\ No, that's not it. [Reads :^ " To the widow of widows." The widow of widows — that's Frieke? Who writes to Frieke ? "John." John? It's Knipperdolling. And poetry! How dare he write poetry? "Oh, Frieke, why may I not die upon thy bosom ala- bastrous?" She's egged him on to this — she must have done. A man needs a deal of encouragement before he writes such poetry as this. But what a villain — with a wife at home, too ! " I'll be at your private door at twelve o'clock o' the dial." So that's why I've been sent to Dame Christian's at the other end of the town ! But I'll surprise 'em — I'll fall on them in their guilt. I'll [Knipperdolling passes window and knocks softly. Tups and tom cats ! That's he ! [Max gets into the chest and closes the lid, leaving one of the streamers of his favour outside. Enter Frieke, R. Knock repeated softly. She opens D., L. C. B. Enter Knipperdoll- ing. Knip. We are alone ? Frieke. In sooth we are. Knip. \Kissing ker.'\ Mouse ! 34 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. Max. \Peeping7\ She struggles not nor screams I Be calm ! Be calm ! Frieke. {Head on shoulder.'] Why do I love thee so, Cony? Max. {Aside']. Jezebel ! Jezebel ! Knip. Many women have asked me that, Mouse. 'Tis a hard question to answer. Frieke. And you love me, my lamb ? Knip. Honeysuckle ! {Kisses her^ Max. Slaughter him, slaughter him ! Knip. Thou'rt sure we are not watched, Mouse? Frieke. Sure, Cony, why? Kjiip. Methought I saw your hulking tapster as I passed the window. Frieke. It must have been your fancy, lamb. I've sent him on an errand and he can't be back for full an hour. {Sees ribbon, goes up and examines it ; bus^ Heavens ! {Sits quietly on chests Knip. What is it. Mouse? Frieke. {Aside.] He'll kill him before he has time to vote ! {Aloud.] Nothing, Cony, nothing ! Come sit beside me. So ! Knip. {Sitting on chest.] So ! Frieke. {Aside.] Saved ! Knip. {Arm around waist ^ I could sit so for ever, Mouse. Frieke. Could you ? {Aside.] You would an you knew what you were sitting on. Knip. You must dismiss that fellow Max. Frieke. The disbelieving Didymus. To spy or» on me ! I'll swing him for't. Knip. You wander. Chicken. Frieke. {Starting^] Yes — no — dear Cony, I was- thinking. Knip. The fool is jealous, Mouse, jealous of me. Frieke. {Coaxing^ He must be a fool. Cony. Knip. Oh, but I've seen him glare at me, just SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 35 so — as I'm a magistrate, an he do it again, I'll lock him up. Frieke. The key is in the common room, Knip. Eh ? Not that I fear any man though he be as big as a house. A little carte, a little tierce, oh, I can be a whirlwind fencer an I choose. A little " Whit ! " and he's dead hneat. But there might be a scandal. Dismiss the fool. Frieke. Indeed, I think I will, Cony. He's a suspicious eaves-dropping loon, with an eye to every chink and an ear to each keyhole ! Knip. {Rising?^ Eh ? Frieke. \Piilling him daek.] Sit down ! Knip. Sweet Mouse ! Frieke. I mean I feel secure when you sit thus. Knip. But I must to the Rath-haus, Mouse. Frieke. [Coaring.] Aye, to vote for Hulda, Cony. Knip. Hum, hum! There be difficulties, Mouse ! Brother Manteuffel says Frieke. Oh, but you promised me ! Knip. Brother Manteuffel says Frieke. Oh, but you promised me ! You remem- ber, Cony. You promised me, when you kissed me in the passage'and said you loved me and had had enough to drink. Don't you remember? Knip. Maybe, maybe ; I was premature. Frieke. \Risi7tg^ Oh ! Oh ! You do not love me ! Knip. \Rising?\ Chicken, I swear Frieke. S^Pushiiig him dack.'] Sit down ! Knip. You are abrupt, sweet Mouse. Frieke. I'm not your Mouse. You love Man- teuffel more than me. Knip. I loathe Manteuffel. He's a devil and he makes me his imp ! I'm a slave, a cypher, a ban- dog in my own house. Frieke. Vote for Hulda, and be free ! 36 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. Knip. But Manteuffel says- Frieke. If Manteuffel says anything, clap him in prison. [Knip. rises aghast ; she gently reseats him^ The people are all for Hulda. Heinric is for Hulda, the Council is divided against itself. Declare for Hulda, Cony, and you will be the hero of the hour ! Knip. Oh, I could be a hero an I chose, but there's Otho Frieke. He's leagues away, fighting the Turks in Hungary. Knip. Think you I could, in good sooth, imprison Manteuffel were I to turn Protester? Frieke. To be sure. Cony ; he's a Catholic. Knip. And load him with chains? Frieke. 'Twould be the proper thing to do. Knip. And fling him in a dungeon — a deep dungeon, Mouse, with toads and other reptiles? Frieke. And a convenient grill i' the door, through which you could view him. Cony, and exhort him daily. Knip. \Rising7\ I'll vote for Hulda! I'm for the Reformation, especially at home! \To door, L. C. B.] Kiss me, Mouse. Frieke. No-o, I'll sit me here. Cony, till you come back, and then [Blows kiss. Knip. {Blows kisses — Aside^ A little eloquence, a little earnestness. Oh, I can be the reformer, an I choose. A little " Ooh," Manteuffel's in prison, and the widow mine. {Blows kisses and exits L. C. B. Repeats busi- ness through window and goes off. Frieke. {Watches him off, then down stage, off chest.^ You may come out now. {Pause.)^ Do you hear, Didymus ? {Lid opens slowly and MAX appears sheepishly.^ You ? Max. You knew that I was here? Frieke. I saw you, or I could never have believed that a brave soldier and an honest man could play SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 37 the spy on the the woman he professed to love. You can go ! I've done with you ! [Max scratches his head, gets slowly out of chest, a?td goes slowly L. C. B. Frieke. You don't even say you are ashamed. Max. [Pausing.'] I'm a villain ! \_She nods.] A damned disbelieving villain ! [She nods.] I'm not fit for you. [She shakes her head.] I deserve to be whipped round the town. Frieke. Twice ! Max. I'll go and hang myself. Frieke. In lavender ! Not yet. Hulda needs our lives. Get thee to the Rath-haus, and after many days, if thou canst learn an honest faith, perchance I may forgive thee. Max. Frieke ! Frieke. Go ! get thee faith ! Max. I do believe, I luill believe, that widows do no wrong. [Exits L. C. B. Frieke. That's as it should be, honest Max. An men have not faith in women, what should we do with our frailties? Ah ! My Lord ! Enter Heinric hastily, L. C. B. Hein. Go, call St. Hulda, quick ! I have spoken for her and declared my faith. The Burghers who were wavering are with us. Frieke, we shall win the day! I've ordered men to every belfry tower, so when the vote is given, chime upon chime shall clamour Hulda's victory. [Blare of trumpets. Prince Otho and Retinue seen passing window. Frieke. Mein Gott ! The Prince ! Hein. Come to arrest her. [Knock at L. C. D. Frieke. Nay, he cannot know. Keep him. Baron, keep him here until the Councillors com- 38 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii, mit themselves ; they cannot then go back or yield her up. \^Knock louder. I'll pass our sister through the stables. Hein. Open — I understand. [Frieke opens door. Enter Otb.0. Soi.T>TEWS, line the street back. 1 Your Highness's health. Otho. Heinric, I have been seeking you for full an hour. Hein. Sire, had I expected you Otho. {Laughs^ I might be otherwhere. I am the unexpected. \To Frieke.'] Let them wait without. You can withdraw, \_She courtesys and exits, R. U. E. Otho lays hand kindly on Hein- RIC's shoulders.'] Well, what news ? Hein. Sir, I have no news for one who has met and mastered the Turkish Janisaries. The fame of your achievements has reached us even here. Otho. [^Sits.] We beat them ; but it took six months to do it. They threatened Wein itself before I came. Hein. We heard the Emperor dispatched you with scant notice, sir. Otho. I had scarce reached Halle when His Ma- jesty's message reached me bidding me go at once. Heinric, she escaped me yet again. Hein. Who, sir ! Otho. The woman, Hulda. Hein. Aye, sir, I know. Otho. But you do not know I passed her on my march. She was at Mindenburg when I passed through. Hein. Indeed, your Highness ? Otho. \Rises and walks.] And one of my fellows knew of it, and let her pass by. Hein. [Aside.] True man ! [Aloud.] Being a Protester, sir? SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 39 Otho. He was; but is not, for I hung him for his treachery. Hein. Ah, yes, his treachery. Otho. To be thrice foiled, and by a woman ! Hein. Sir, why let it rankle ? Otho. Nettles, nettles ! But you are right ! I came to Mindenburg to find a friend — not catch a foe ! \Sits?\ Heinric, the issue of this war has placed me first of all the King's High Councillors. Hein. I hear that at Cologne the Emperor him- self rode forth to meet you with the lords and ladies of the Court. Otho. His Majesty was pleased to show marked •favours. And one of the fairest ladies of the Court was an old friend of yours. Hein. Nay, sir, I have no friends at Court. Otho. Aye, one who often spoke to me of you. Hein. Of me ? Otho. Mind you our little playfellow of school- boy days, the dark-eyed Wilhelmina ! Hein. Aye, sir, the only daughter of the Duke of Balve. OtJio. She hath a sweet and tender disposition, and a grace of body which a king might covet. Hein. She was beautiful, as a child. Otho. The flower hath passed the promise of the bud. \Rises, crosses to him.'] Heinric, I come to bring you back with me as her accepted suitor. Hein. I, sir, I ? Otho. Oh, pretty dififidence ! Yes, Heinric, you! Hein. But I am half a peasant. Otho. Whose sires fought under Charlemagne. Hein. Unknown. Otho. But with a future. Hein. Beggar'd of fortune. Otho. No, Master Phoenix, for out of the ashes of your lost estates you shall arise with wider wings to shadow a whole province. King Charles is ever 40 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. lavish of reward to those who serve him well, and for my lucky victory he hath bestowed on me the richest province of the Rhine to have and hold in perpetuity. And to this hereditament I do appoint thee fief. Hein. Sire ! Otho. It marches league for league beside the Duke of Balve's land. The Duke is very old — his only child a girl. The lands go with her, which, conjoined with yours, would make a little king- dom in the heart of fairest Germany. Well, what say you ? Hein. I — I am confounded. I know not what to say, lest I should seem ungrateful. Otho. It is my pleasure, as it shall be yours. Hein. Sire, I cannot take your bounty, for my love is pledged elsewhere. Otho. \Laughing7\ There speaks the simple coun- try character ! Man's love is a very wild cat, a vagrant gypsy, inconstant as the sky; affection is a house dog, a creature of habit, faithful to the fire, and very loth to wander for his food. Let the wildcat prowl the woods and poach what game he may — but keep a dog to watch the hearth at home. Hein. The Duke of Balve champions the Pope. Otho. Indeed he does. He boasts he has not left a Protester in his province. Hein. Then I am outlawed there. Otho. What mean you ? Hein. \_Rising7\ I have joined the Reformer's cause. Otho. [^Rising.'] Heinric ! Nay, nay ! You jest! Hein. For the first time in my life of lightness, sir, I am in earnest. Otho. [^To him.'] How dare you tell me this? Do you not know? Hein. Yes, sir, I know. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 41 Otho. \_Restraini71g himself?^ Heinric, I do not threaten, I beseech. An elder brother with his younger pleads, For though our days be equal, I have hung In the world's sun and ripened ; while thy heart, Hid in the shady bowers of Mindenburg, Still wears the green of youth. Hein. I have stept From rust to revelation. Otho. We've all felt. That whirl of random urgency. Rack not The wine at such a time. The drinking comes When age has fined youth's fierce insistency. Hein. I am no youth. Otho. At heart a very boy ! Hein. I hold a man's ideal ! Otho. Let it go ! Ideals are for a woman, not for man Whose sterner fingers grip the throat of fact. . [ Very earnestly. By our dear comradeship, I pray you pause : You will be dispossessed of all you hold ; Imprisoned, tortured, maybe put to death. Hein. They may despoil me of my heritage, May cripple freedom^ snatch dear life itself, One thing remains: they cannot take from me The hallow of idea. Otho. [Bri/y.'] Who is it ? Hein. Sir? Otho. The woman ! Hein, I spoke not of woman Otho. But the woman speaks through you. Hein. Aye, 'tis true, A woman's purity has awoke my better self, And human love is guide to holy Faith. Otho. {Laughing?}^ Priapus, God of substance, not idea ! 42 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ii. Hein. Ah, sir, you do not know this woman's life. Will you not see and hear, before you judge ? Otlio. Enough, enough! Such importunity O'erleaps respect. Think you to whom you speak? Hein. Aye, sir, unto a powerful Prince, and just. Otho. But pitiless. Trade not on past regard ; Expect no mercy at our friendship's grave. Hein. \Bozving^ I ask for nothing, sir, but leave to go. [^Dislant church bells to end of Act. Music. Otho. What means those bells ? Hein. Saint Hulda's victory. Otho. St. Hulda ! Hulda here ! Hein. Aye, here ! Otho. And you — you dare to shelter her ? Hein. Aye, unto death I Otho. Treachery ! Treachery ! Duped — and by you ! Hein. I know what I have done, I am with Hulda, sir! Otho. ' Aye, fool, in gaol ! Ho, officer ! Enter Officer, L. E. Open door showing file of Soldiers i7i street. Music and cheering louder. Hein. Too late, for Mindenburg Has spoken, and St. Hulda's cause is ours. [Hein throws open witidow and looks out. Look where she comes, white, wonderful, supreme. The snowy crest of that wild human wave Which surges roaring up the cobbled street ! See how grown men flock round to kiss her robes ; See how the women lift their babes to her. With tears and laughter and great sobs of joy. And she, a child, amongst the children walks. With heart as fragrant as their own! Look, Prince, She wears God's patent on her moonlit brows ! [Prince to the window — starts. SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 43 Otho. [Aside.] Katchen ! [A/oud.'] That ! that — is not St Hulda ! Hein. Aye ! The woman I have asked to be my wife ! [Prince looks at him curiously, and bursts into a cruel, mirthless laugh. Picture. Forte Music to END OF ACT. 44 LOVE AND FAITH. [act iii. ACT III. Scene I. Room as in Act II. Frieke. discovered. Enter Max hastily, L. C. B, Frieke. Well ? Max. Heaven grant it may be well. The Prince means mischief. Frieke. Where is he ? Max. Still within the city. Frieke. And his soldiers. Max. Outside. The Baron Heinric hath closed the gates upon them. Frieke. Oh, Max ! If they should try and force the town ? Max. Heinric is ready, and we are his men to death. Frieke. Hush ! [Enter St. Hulda.] You've heard the news, dear sister? St. H. Yes, Frieke, we are put upon our trial. Max. Fear not ! we will not give you up. St. H. I do not fear, good Max. If I am grave,, 'tis not for self, but others. The sturdy men who will be lost ; the wives who will be widows ; the widows who will mourn their only sons before this day is won. Frieke, were I to dwell on war's despite, I should betray my heart and yield myself to Otho. Frieke. Never, never ! You do not know the man. St. H. Mine eyes have never seen him, but mine ears are most familiar with his character. Frieke. He is cruel and pitiless. St. H. I know that well ; it would not hinder me. It is the knowledge of my people's needs- SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 45 which gives me stout resolve. My post is at the tiller ; we must face the storm. I pray you fetch me Heinric, I would speak with him. Frieke. I'll go fetch him, sister. Max. Not alone. {Toher^ The streets are dark and lonesome. Frieke. I'm not afraid, but you may take my hand. Max. [^Taking hand.'] Dear Frieke ! Frieke. I know, I know, perhaps you may out- side. \^Exeunt Max and Frieke, L. C. B. St. H. I'll weave no further on this loom of lies ! Before he throws himself in Otho's path Heinric must know the truth. I'll tell him all, Aye, though he hates me for the thing I am. [Knock, L. C. B. It's just, it's just ! This is my punishment's Last crown of thorns ! Enter Heinric, L. C B. Hein. The city's gates are shut — Thou'rt safe, dear one. Why, sister, tears ? What is't ? St. H. [Aside.] The shame- will kill me. Hein. [To /ler.] Courage, dear sister Fear not this Otho ; we're 'twixt thee and him. My men are thine, and while our blood still beats 'Tis thine to spend. St. H. Not mine, not mine, but God's! 'Tis not for me you fight, but for the Cause. Hein. Thou art the Cause. St. H. No, no! I'm nothing — worse Than nothing, a poor might-have-been. The Cause Is what we strive for. Hein. Aye, the Cause ! St. H. And yet I am in doubt, perplexed. Advise me. 46 LOVE AND FAITH. [act iii. Hein. I ? Who follow, not direct. St. H. But maybe soon Our people's fate will rest with thee alone. Hein. What mean you ? St. H. Listen — nor judge too harshly. It happened once — 'twas long ago, she said — That is, I knew a woman who once sinned Because she loved with faith too strong for doubt. Can there be room for such a thing as she Within our fold ? Hein. Why, sister, surely, yes. If her repentance be sincere. St. H. You say so ? But no ! Such sin as hers is past redeem. Light pardon is half-sister to connivance. She must stand separate — and yet, they say This woman hath persuasive gifts and grace To lead the people. Hein. . Why must chastity For ever lack the crown of charity ! May not the spirit's quality outweigh The body's flaws ? St. H. Think you 'tis so? Think you Despite the past she still may hope to leave The world the better for her coming? That Were hope indeed. But think ! She might but harm The Cause she seeks to serve. What if her past Were published? Might the weaker brethren Not deem her message vain, since she is vile, As precious wine stored in a rancid cask ? Hein. Let her not fear. The greater Truth shall rise, Blotting the lesser as the sun and stars. St. H. Thank God ! All's easy now. And tho' a just SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 47 Disdain and horror wipe me from thy heart, The Cause is safe. Hein. Why, Hulda St. H. Hear me out ! I — even I — whom you regard a saint Heinric — I am Enter Max and Frieke hastily. Frieke. Sister! Sister! Good, my lord, the •citizens are crushing to the square. Hein. What want they ? Max. An ounce of lead apiece, my lord. Hein. A soldier's remedy. Let's first try argu- ments more easily digested. What call they for? Max. For everything and nothing. Some call for Hulda to be given up ; others defy the prince ; others preach compromise, and each swag-bellied citizen is shouting his own remedy, and not a single listener to any one of them. The whole square's like a may-tide rookery, all halloa and no help. Hein. I'll go to them. St. H. I fain would speak with thee before thou go'st. Frieke. [To Heinric, aside.'] You must with us at once, my Lord. The Burgomaster wavers, and would surrender our sister to Prince Otho. Heine. Hush! I'll come at once. \To HuLDA.] When I return, dear sister, I'll come for thee in a brief breathing space. St. H. But Heinric Hein. Fear not. All's well. Come ! [Exeunt Heinric, Max, and Frieke. St. H. He'll turn from me in loathing, but the Cause Is safe ; safer in his clean hands than mine. I see the new life broaden down the years ; 48 LOVE AND FAITH. [act III, I see the new faith soar with Freedom's wing ; I see the children of another'age Rejoice in wider circumstance of soul, And reap, to sounds of laughter and of song, The seed we sow in blood and tears to-day. I see hereafter's joy, as Moses saw. With eyne still aching from the desert's scald, " The Good Land " roll in verdure to the sea, That Land of Promise barred to him by sin. Ah ! but he had his comfort, for he knew His great lieutenant would complete the work And lead his people home. Thank God, I too Have my brave Joshua, steadfast and strong ! [Takes up Heinric's roses and kisses them. Otho- seen at window back. The Cause is in thy keeping. I can go Back to the desert and be seen no more ! [Knock, L. C. B, 'Tis he. Heinric, the Captain. [She crosses halfway to door. Enter Otho, wha comes down. Otho. [Coming down ^ Katchen ! [She crushes flowers to her breast, staring at him speechless. Pause. The thorns have pierced thy hands ; there's blood on them. Give me the flowers. [Toward her. St. H. Sigbert, the Fowler. What want you of me ? Otho. I sought an enemy: I find a friend. St. H. Sigbert, the Fowler. Otho. Nay, dear Katchen St. H. Katchen is dead. Otho. Forgive me, I forgot ! St. Hulda. [Bows7\ The name's an inspiration. Who father'd the conceit ? St. H. Luther gave me that name. Otho. How like the man ! You knew him ? SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 49 St. H. He called me from the grave. Otho. You speak in parables. St. H. Would you have the truth ? Otho. It is the only thing I never fear. \^Sits, R. C. St. H. I would not stir the embers of the past. Otho. Is there still warmth in them ? St. H. Banked fires oft smoulder at their core, whose crust Is cold. Stir the red caverns, you may see Strange pictures i' the fire. A woman big With sin — Oh, yes ! why not ? That came to pass — Deserted and alone Otho. I sent for you. St. H. Aye ! With my brother's and my father's blood upon your head. Otho. That was the law, not I. St. H. Which you betrayed them to — through me, through me ! Otho. It was my duty — but I loved you, Katchen ! I sought you far and near. Where did you hide ? St. H. I know not where I went or what I did ; The months went by in leaden pilgrimage ; My faltering feet were wand'ring with my wits. That was God's mercy, for often as I lay Under the kindly lee of some swart hedge And stared into the freckled face of night, A gentle madness ranged fantastic fields In crazy comfort. Otho. I would fain have spared you, St. H. They say they found me crooning lullabies Over the still-born at my breast, while winter In irony swathed us in Samite snows. It was the time of visions and he came, — Luther, — the rugged man of war, whose heart Beat with a woman's throb. He took me home 50 LOVE AND FAITH. [act iii. Unto his wife, who cradled me to life. When I recovered, Luther, knowing all. Spake words with me and laid his hands on me. 'Twas in the garden that he loved to tend, And with him sat his wife and little ones ; The west was still a-warm with after-lights, While on the eastern sky-line the new moon Whetted her silver edge ; which Luther saw And said : " Behold a sign, St. Hulda's sickle ! Take thou the hook from Heaven's hand, Go forth a second Hulda, for the math Is ripe." With which he blessed me and I went. Leaving the past behind me. Otho. Yet behold ! It comes to you again in friendly guise. St. H. I knew that this would be. I've dreamt of this O' night, I've dreaded it by day. I've borne The tension of imagination's wrack Until reality brings sheer relief, Otho. I could not harm thee, Katchen. St. H. No ; you can do me no more harm, Sig- bert, the Fowler. Otho. Nay, St. Hulda, I too now wear another title. I am Otho, Prince of Halberstadt. St. H. You ? Otho. Is the change more Protean than your own ? St. H. {After pause.'] You have come to take me prisoner ? Otho. No ; I come for Heinric. St. H. Ah ! Otho. He has asked you to be his wife ? St. H. I have told him I can never be his wife. Otho. \To her.] You do not love him, Katchen ? St. H. {Facing him.'] It is because I love him this is impossible. Otho. [Drawing back.] Ah ! You love him> SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 51 Yes, I understand — you love him. And love is a great cobbler of broken hearts. Yet the confession sounds somewhat strange, from you to me. [St. HULDA laughs bitterly^l Well, well, we'll let that pass. I have come for Heinric. St. H. Why ? Otho. Sit down and I will tell you. "[She sits^ I will not see him led thus blindly to his ruin. Yes, ruin, for your cause is doomed. Maurice of Saxony has joined the King. St. H. I know it. Otho. I have come to take Heinric back with me to. Court. A noble marriage waits him there — wide lands and high position. You bar his future : if you love him you will give him up. St. H. He is free to go. Otho. Your influence has bound him hand and foot. You alone can set him free. St. H. He is free to marry whomso'er he will. There's not a night but that I pray with all my heart Heaven may send him a wife who shall be worthy of his love. Otho. {Towards her.'] That is impossible so long as he remains a Protestant. [Movement for St. HULDA.] Nay, listen ! you must not only give him up, you must send him back to us. St. H. [Rising.'\ Rob him of faith ? Otho. You must send him back to us. St. H. Never, never ! I have resigned his love, I will forego his company, but I will not betray his soul's estate. I found that soul, a priceless pearl abandoned in the mire ; I snatched it from its foul association ; I washed it with my tears; I shaped it with my prayers ; I set it in the forefront of our Cause's diadem, and it is mine to wear. Otho. No — I have come for it. St. H. His soul is mine. I will not give it up! Otho. {Pause. Walks.'] See then, you need not. 52 LOVE AND FAITH. [act in. Katchen, I wronged you once. Look you, I will repair that wrong. I offer you dominion, wealth, and fame, crowned by a loved one's love. Aye, Heinric's hand in marriage. [Movement for St. HuLDA.] Nay, I swear by Holy Rood and Peter's Chair to keep the confidence of what we only know, on one condition. St. H. Which is ? Otho. That you renounce the Reformation's creed. St. H. Can you be in earnest. Prince ? Otho. Think you I cannot do these things? St. H. Indeed I think you can ; but I cannot. . Otho. Cannot? Why? St. H. You of all men should know that what I do, whether I spring at heaven or plunge to hell, I do with all my might. I set my teeth and sinned, knowing I sinned. What wrought the wreckage may salvation win, and as I served the Devil, so will I serve my God, with single heart. Otho. \_Shruggmg his shoulders?^ I have come for Heinric. St. H. {Breaking down for a fnoinent?\ Have you no pity? Not even memory? I gave you all without a thought. I asked for nothing in return. I do ask now: I ask for this man's better self, the self I roused, the nobler instincts I awoke and mothered to their prime — all these are mine, mine, mine ! Sigbert, Sigbert, rob me not of that ! Otho. We are not children ; you must choose. Either you give him up, or I must tell the truth. St. H. Truth ! What do you with truth ? You to whom man's noblest aim is but a mummer's art? Simplicity, sincerity, and faith were mere attitudes, and life itself a game of cunning and conceit. What do you know of truth, whose love was treachery, whose honour is a lie? But if there be SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 53 Truth in you, go, cry it from the housetops — I do not fear you now. OtJio. You will deny it, eh ? And Heinric will believe you ? You think the peasant maid has out- grown recognition. Have a care ! You may snatch Heinric for a space — a week, a month, a year, aftd and then I come with proven facts and nail them at your door, St. H. You need not search for proofs — Heinric shall know the truth. Otho. Ah ! I am to tell him ? St. i/. No ; I will tell him. Otho. Yoii ! This is a trick too simple to deceive. St. H. Did you ever know me lie in the old days ? Otho. No, Katchen, never. St. H. Nor do I now. I will tell Heinric all, and you shall hear me. Otho. Where? St. H. Before the people in the public square. Go wait me there. Otho. [Aside.'] The woman's mad ? [Bowing.'] ^ . I go I must believe your word, and yet 'tis hard to understand. St. If. You would not understand that I have longed for years to cry my secret to the winds. The fears that gagged me were not for myself, but others, lest the Cause should suffer for my sin. But now that I know Heinric can bear the truth and still be steadfast to the faith, I'll wear a mask no more. Otho. There speaks a noble mind. I see it all ! [Aside.] She'll keep her word and lose her man. Heinric comes back to us. 54 . LOVE AND FAITH. [act in. Enter Frieke hastily, L. C. B., with letter. Frieke. Sister, sister ! S^Sees Otho and stops short. Hides the letter. Bus. Otho. \Bowing^ We meet again upon the Rath- Haus steps. \Exit, L. C. B. Frieke. How he frightened me. But I hid the letter. See, sister, for you. \Gives letter. St. H. From John of Bradenberg. His secret mark. Frieke. The Duke. Read, read ! It should have reached you hours ago. St. H. [Opens.'] " Hold out against Prince Otho to the last — it is the Reformation's final chance. Maurice, the German Judas, has not played his last card yet. A month, a week, a day, may save the Cause. But time is everything." Frieke. Aye ! Heinric will stand firm. St. H. He must know this. Take it, Frieke, and if anything should happen unto me, give it to him. Frieke. What do you mean ? St. H. Frieke, we have met once more. Frieke. We ? Who ? St. H. Sigbert and I. Frieke. The man who wronged St. H. Whom I once loved. Yes. He has just left the room. Frieke. Otho, Prince of Halberstadt. [Pause.'] Heinric does not know? St. H. Not yet. Frieke. He'll not believe it. St. H. Yes, Frieke, for I go to tell the truth to him and to my people, from the Rath-haus steps. Frieke. Sister ! Sister ! Are you mad. The people will reject you, drive you forth to Otho anjfl to death SCENE I.] LOVE AND FAITH. 55 SL H. So be it then. I bear a gospel greater than my life. Frieke. 'Twill be the death-knell of the Cause. Think of this message. \_Shozus letter?^ You must keep back the truth until we hear from Bradenberg again St. H. I have promised Otho I will lay my past before my people. Frieke. You cannot keep that promise. St. H. Frieke ! Frieke. \To lier very gently?^ I know what it will cost you, sister, and I do not ask it lightly. You could not tell a lie to save yourself, you must to save your people. You owe it to us, dear sister ; to us who have risked our fortunes and our lives — our everything to follow you. St. H. \_Touched, kissing her.'\ I know the sacri- fices you have made, the dangers you have n*n. Frieke. Because we love the trutli that is within you. St. H. And yet, would have me lie. Oh, Frieke, Frieke ! Frieke. Yes, I would have you lie. There are lies that are less deceptive than half-truths. And Otho knows it. Otho knows your people — the common, stupid, loving folk who worship you — will never understand that God alone is perfect. Otho knows that if you tell them of your past they will renounce you, and the Cause be lost. St. H. No, no ! I may be lost, but not the Cause. God's ensign only passes from my unworthy hands to Heinric's firmer grasp. He will still lead the people to a wider, freer future. Frieke. When his belief in you is gone? Never. He loves you, sister; kneeling before you as to one who comes from heaven not from earth. St. H. {Covering face?^ Don't, don't ! Freike. Think of the shock. The shock ! 56 LOVE AND FAITH. [act ill. S(. H. His faith would still remain. Frieke. Not even that. It is his love for you that weaves the passion of his faith. Take that, and all his better self goes with it. St. H. If I thought that, the rack's worst agony should never make me speak. Frieke. Indeed, indeed, 'tis so ! My woman's instinct tells me it is so. Keep back the truth awhile — at least until we hear from Brandenberg again. Ah ! promise that. St. H. [ Walking to and fro.'] A lie ! a lie ! Frieke. Not for yourself, but others ; for the Cause. St. H. {Covering her ' ears.] The Cause ! It sounds like blasphemy. A lie, a lie ! Frieke. Aye, a lie. Think of this letter. A lie alone can give us time. Promise if Heinric falter» St. H. He will not. Frieke. But if he does St. H. I could not, could not — even for him. Frieke. Would you have him hark back to his old life: the life of gamblers and of harlots — the iife ji/^/^ called him from ? That is what it means, and the last state of that man St. H. No, no ! That shall not be, not though I steep myself in perjury and lies. Frieke. \_With cry.] You promise ? St. H. \Giving hand.] I promise — if he falters. [^Breaking away.] Ah ! but he will not. We wrong him, wrong him. He will stand firm. A month ago I was not sure ; to-day I know. I know he will be steadfast to the Faith. What e'er becomes of me, my captain, my .stout Joshua will lead you through the foe. Come, to the Rath-haus, for I have no fear. {^Exeunt as Scene changes. SCENE 2.] LOVE AND FAITH. 57 Scene II. — A Public Square before the Rath-haus. Streets lead off L. U. E. atid R. B. C. The Rath- haus with steps and terrace. Full stage. Citizens in knots eagerly conversitig. First Cit. What's this to-do ! Second Cit. Why does not the Burgomaster come forth? First Cit. The Council sits as hard as an old hen upon her addled eggs. Third Cit. Where's the Burgomaster ? Fourth Cit. Aye, where's the Burgomaster ? Voices. " The Burgomaster! The Burgomaster ! " [ Uproar. Crowd gathers in front of Rath-haus and calls for Burgomaster. Enter Knipper- DOLLiNG, Stortebeker, Civic Officers and Torch-bearers from Rath-haus, also Coun- cillors. Confusion and uproar in Crowd. Tipstaff. Silence, silence for the Burgomaster ! Stort. [Aside.~\ I see Manteuffel in the crowd. Knip. \Aside7\ Devil-dog ! Devil-dog ! He's come to bait me. Stort. Keep cool ! keep cool ! Knip. Cool ! I'm cold — stone cold and clammy. Stort. Be a man, Burgomaster. Knip. Fear not. A little pushing, a little pres- ence. Oh, I can be a public man an I choose. A little " Thump, thump," and the crowd are with me. First Cit. What of Prince Otho ? Second Cit. What of St. Hulda? Mant. l^In crowd.'] Beware, brother, and dismiss the woman ere it is too late. Knip. Fellow citizens — [^Uproar.'] Good gentle citizens. A little order, a little patience. Oh, you can be the gentlemen an you choose [Uproar. 58 LOVE AND FAITH. [act iii. Tipstaff. Silence! 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