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      The Queen's Residence in Aranjuez. The Pleasure Grounds,

       intersected by an avenue, terminated by the Queen's Palace.

       The QUEEN, DUCHESS OF OLIVAREZ, PRINCESS OF EBOLI, and MARCHIONESS

       OF MONDECAR, all advancing from the avenue.

       QUEEN (to the MARCHIONESS).

       I will have you beside me, Mondecar.

       The princess, with these merry eyes of hers,

       Has plagued me all the morning. See, she scarce

       Can hide the joy she feels to leave the country.

       EBOLI.

       'Twere idle to conceal, my queen, that I

       Shall be most glad to see Madrid once more.

       MONDECAR.

       And will your majesty not be so, too?

       Are you so grieved to quit Aranjuez?

       QUEEN.

       To quit—this lovely spot at least I am.

       This is my world. Its sweetness oft and oft

       Has twined itself around my inmost heart.

       Here, nature, simple, rustic nature greets me,

       The sweet companion of my early years—

       Here I indulge once more my childhood's sports,

       And my dear France's gales come blowing here.

       Blame not this partial fondness—all hearts yearn

       For their own native land.

       EBOLI.

       But then how lone,

       How dull and lifeless it is here! We might

       As well be in La Trappe.

       QUEEN.

       I cannot see it.

       To me Madrid alone is lifeless. But

       What saith our duchess to it?

       OLIVAREZ.

       Why, methinks,

       Your majesty, since kings have ruled in Spain,

       It hath been still the custom for the court

       To pass the summer months alternately

       Here and at Pardo—in Madrid, the winter.

       QUEEN.

       Well, I suppose it has! Duchess, you know

       I've long resigned all argument with you.

       MONDECAR.

       Next month Madrid will be all life and bustle.

       They're fitting up the Plaza Mayor now,

       And we shall have rare bull-fights; and, besides,

       A grand auto da fe is promised us.

       QUEEN.

       Promised? This from my gentle Mondecar!

       MONDECAR.

       Why not? 'Tis only heretics they burn!

       QUEEN.

       I hope my Eboli thinks otherwise!

       EBOLI.

       What, I? I beg your majesty may think me

       As good a Christian as the marchioness.

       QUEEN.

       Alas! I had forgotten where I am—

       No more of this! We were speaking, I think,

       About the country? And methinks this month

       Has flown away with strange rapidity.

       I counted on much pleasure, very much,

       From our retirement here, and yet I have not

       Found that which I expected. Is it thus

       With all our hopes? And yet I cannot say

       One wish of mine is left ungratified.

       OLIVAREZ.

       You have not told us, Princess Eboli,

       If there be hope for Gomez—and if we may

       Expect ere long to greet you as his bride?

       QUEEN.

       True—thank you, duchess, for reminding me!

       [Addressing the PRINCESS.

       I have been asked to urge his suit with you.

       But can I do it? The man whom I reward

       With my sweet Eboli must be a man

       Of noble stamp indeed.

       OLIVAREZ.

       And such he is,

       A man of mark and fairest fame—a man

       Whom our dear monarch signally has graced

       With his most royal favor.

       QUEEN.

       He's happy in

       Such high good fortune; but we fain would know,

       If he can love, and win return of love.

       This Eboli must answer.

       EBOLI (stands speechless and confused, her eyes bent on the ground;

       at last she falls at the QUEEN's feet).

       Gracious queen!

       Have pity on me! Let me—let me not—

       For heaven's sake, let me not be sacrificed.

       QUEEN.

       Be sacrificed! I need no more. Arise!

       'Tis a hard fortune to be sacrificed.

       I do believe you. Rise. And is it long

       Since you rejected Gomez' suit?

       EBOLI.

       Some months—

       Before Prince Carlos came from Alcala.

       QUEEN (starts and looks at her with an inquisitive glance).

       Have you tried well the grounds of your refusal?

       EBOLI (with energy).

       It cannot be, my queen, no, never, never—

       For a thousand reasons, never!

       QUEEN.

       One's enough,

       You do not love him. That suffices me.

       Now let it pass.

       [To her other ladies.

       I have not seen the Infanta

       Yet this morning. Pray bring her, marchioness.

       OLIVAREZ (looking at the clock).

       It is not yet the hour, your majesty.

       QUEEN.

       Not yet the hour for me to be a mother!

       That's somewhat hard. Forget not, then, to tell me

       When the right hour does come.

       [A page enters and whispers to the first lady, who

       thereupon turns to the QUEEN.

       OLIVAREZ.

       The Marquis Posa!

       May it please your majesty.

       QUEEN.

       The Marquis Posa!

       OLIVAREZ.

       He comes from France, and from the Netherlands,

       And craves the honor to present some letters

       Intrusted to him by your royal mother.

      

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