This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
JULIUS ZEYER
51

afar . . . But yonder to that palace do I most yearn, there where my shadow falls . . . And so my heart forever aches and forever blood drips from it . . . The birds are sweet guests; on my stiffened arms they perch and sing . . . Perchance they would soothe me, if that flower, that bloody flower, that heart would not continually pain me . . . Ah! . . . How deeply mother earth breathes—! . . . How deeply that starry heaven! . . . It is strange; I never before knew that they too breathe! But why does mother earth hold me so: firmly? I thought, when the wind stirred me, that perchance it would overthrow me, that it would break my arms . . . But it merely tore off my leaves, those withered leaves, which fell as my tears . . . once on a time . . . I know not when . . . Then snow fell and a drowsiness came over me, but that heart was forever bleeding . . . Then spring came, new leaves again, and young birds with the old, eternal songs, and all around was changed . . . It is so merry and mother earth breathes so strongly, full of tenderness . . . But my heart, the bloody flower, that continually pains, pains, pains . . . O, O! . . .

She closes her eyes, sighs deeply, and the trunk darkens, so that she is no longer visible. Queen Nyola and Radovid come out of the palace.

Nyola.—Their song should have been joyous, but it is like weeping . . . I marvel not; the very air of that palace is languishing, like the dying autumn, and frightens away joy, like this mourning garment, which perchance I shall wear to the end of my days, as now my grief.

Radovid.—Queen, yield not thus to thy sorrow!

Nyola.—What can I do else? It has continued for the whole year, always the same. For a whole year already my torture continues. At first I thought that it was sorrow over the loss of his father which so tormented and destroyed Radúz, which clouded his once clear mind. But long since it has been plain that he is under the spell of some enchantment. All has proved in vain that I have attempted; no gayety can arouse his grief-stricken mind: why do I prepare festivities; why do I arrange dances and songs! Didst thou see how sad he remained through the whole long banquet? And when I sought his glance amidst their singing to observe how the song affected him, then I saw that his place was empty. Whither has he gone? O, thou wilt see that