_A Saloon, terminated by a Gallery which extends far into
the background_.

WALLENSTEIN _Sitting at a table. The_ SWEDISH CAPTAIN
_standing before him_.

WALLENST.

Commend me to your lord. I sympathize
In his good fortune; and if you have seen me
Deficient in the expressions; of that joy,
Which such a victory might well demand,
Attribute it to no lack of good will,
For henceforth are our fortunes one. Farewell,
And for your trouble take my thanks. Tomorrow
The citadel shall be surrendered to you
On your arrival.

[_The_ SWEDISH CAPTAIN _retires_. WALLENSTEIN _sits lost in
thought, his eyes fixed vacantly, and his head sustained by
his hand. The_ COUNTESS TERZKY _enters, stands before him
for awhile, unobserved by him; at length he starts, sees her
and recollects himself_.]

WALLENST.

Comest thou from her? Is she restored? How
is she?