CATILINE.
[Gazes after her.]
Now is she gone! And I--what a relief!
Now can I cast away this wearisome
Hypocrisy, this show of cheerfulness,
Which least of all is found within my heart.
She is my better spirit. She would grieve
Were she to sense my doubt. I must dissemble.
Yet shall I consecrate this silent hour
To contemplation of my wasted life.--
This lamp,--ah, it disturbs my very thoughts;--
Dark it must be here,--dark as is my soul!
[He puts out the light; the moon shines through the pillars in the rear.]
CATILINE.
Too light,--yes, still too light! And yet, no matter;--
The pallid moonlight here does well befit
The twilight and the gloom that shroud my soul,--
Have ever shrouded all my earthly ways.
CATILINE.
Hm, Catiline, then is this day your last;
Tomorrow morning you will be no longer
The Catiline you hitherto have been.
Distant in barren Gaul my life shall run
Its course, unknown as is a forest stream.--
Now am I wakened from those many visions
Of power, of greatness, of a life of deeds;--
They vanished like the dew; in my dark soul
They struggled long and died,--unseen of men.
CATILINE.
Ah, it is not this dull and drowsy life,
Far from all mundane tumult, that affrights me.
If only for a moment I could shine,
And blaze in splendor like a shooting star,--
If only by a glorious deed I could
Immortalize the name of Catiline
With everlasting glory and renown,--
Then gladly should I, in the hour of triumph,
Forsake all things,--flee to a foreign strand;--
I’d plunge the dagger in my exiled heart,
Die free and happy; for I should have lived!
CATILINE.
But oh,--to die without first having lived.
Can that be possible? Shall I so die?
[With uplifted hands.]
CATILINE.
A hint, oh angry powers,--that it is
My fate to disappear from life forgotten,
Without a trace!