# Wallenstein/The Piccolomini/A1S03

SCENE III.
Questenberg and Octavio.
QUESTENBERG (with signs of aversion and astonishment).
What sentiments! what fierce, uncurb'd defiance! And were this spirit universal—
OCTAVIO.
You are now acquainted with three fourths of the army.
QUESTENBERG.
To have the custody of this? That Illo Thinks worse, I fear me, than he speaks. And then This Butler too—he cannot even conceal The passionate workings of his ill intentions.
OCTAVIO.
'Twas nothing more. I cannot give up Butler. I know a spell that will soon dispossess The evil spirit in him.
QUESTENBERG (walking up and down in evident disquiet).
O! this is worse, far worse, than we had suffer'd Ourselves to dream of at Vienna. There We saw it only with a courtier's eyes, Eyes dazzled by the splendor of the throne. We had not seen the War-chief, the Commander, The man all-powerful in his camp. Here, here, 'Tis quite another thing. Here is no Emperor more—the Duke is Emperor. Alas, my friend! alas, my noble friend! This walk which you have ta'en me through the camp Strikes my hopes prostrate.
OCTAVIO.
Of what a perilous kind the office is, Which you deliver to me from the Court. The least suspicion of the General Costs me my freedom and my life, and would But hasten his most desperate enterprise.
QUESTENBERG.
This madman with the sword, and plac'd such power In such a hand? I tell you, he'll refuse, Flatly refuse, t'obey the imperial orders. Friend, he can do't, and what he can, he will. And then th'impunity of his defiance— O! what a proclamation of our weakness!
OCTAVIO.
Without a purpose hither? Here in camp! And at the very point of time, in which We're arming for the war? That he has taken These, the last pledges of his loyalty, Away from out the Emperor's dominions— This is no doubtful token of the nearness Of some eruption!
QUESTENBERG.
Beneath this tempest, which collects itself And threats us from all quarters? Th' enemy Of th' empire on our borders, now already The master of the Danube, and still farther, And farther still, extending every hour! In our interior the alarum-bells Of insurrection—peasantry in arms——— All orders discontented—and the army, Just in the moment of our expectation Of aidance from it—lo! this very army Seduc'd, run wild, lost to all discipline, Loosen'd, and rent asunder from the state And from their sov'reign, the blind instrument Of the most daring of mankind, a weapon Of fearful power, which at his will he wields!
OCTAVIO.
Men's words are ever bolder than their deeds: And many a resolute, who now appears
Made up to all extremes, will, on a sudden, Find in his breast a heart he wot not of, Let but a single honest man speak out The true name of his crime! Remember too, We stand not yet so wholly unprotected. Counts Altringer and Galas have maintain'd Their little army faithful to it's duty, And daily it becomes more numerous. Nor can he take us by surprize: you know, I hold him all encompass'd by my list'ners. Whate'er he does, is mine, even while 'tis doing— No step so small, but instantly I hear it; Yea, his own mouth discloses it.
QUESTENBERG.
Incomprehensible, that he detects not The foe so near!
OCTAVIO.
That I by lying arts, and complaisant Hypocrisy, have skulk'd into his graces; Or with the sustenance of smooth professions Nourish his all-confiding friendship! No— Compell'd alike by prudence, and that duty Which we all owe our country, and our sovereign, To hide my genuine feelings from him, yet Ne'er have I duped him with base counterfeits!
QUESTENBERG.
OCTAVIO.
And links him both to me and to my son. Comrades and friends we always were—long habit, Adventurous deeds perform'd in company, And all those many and various incidents Which store a soldier's memory with affections, Had bound us long and early to each other— Yet I can name the day, when all at once His heart rose on me, and his confidence Shot out into sudden growth. It was the morning Before the memorable fight at Lützner. Urg'd by an ugly dream, I sought him out, To press him to accept another charger. At distance from the tents, beneath a tree, I found him in a sleep. When I had wak'd him, And had related all my bodings to him, Long time he star'd upon me, like a man Astounded; thereon fell upon my neck, And manifested to me an emotion That far outstripp'd the worth of that small service. Since then his confidence has follow'd me With the same pace that mine has fled from him.
QUESTENBERG.
OCTAVIO.
QUESTENBERG.
His lot has plac'd him in?
OCTAVIO.
Leave him in wardship to his innocence. His young and open soul—dissimulation Is foreign to it's habits! Ignorance Alone can keep alive the cheerful air, The unembarrass'd sense and light free spirit, That makes the Duke secure.
QUESTENBERG. (anxiously)
Of Colonel Piccolomini—yet—if——— Reflect a little———
OCTAVIO.
Hush!—There he comes!