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       Had scarcely dared to credit in her picture!

       In Padua, where his studies held him bound;

       Fernando panted for the joyful hour,

       When he might murmur at Matilda's feet

       The first pure homage of his fervent love.

       [The QUEEN grows more attentive; the MARQUIS continues, after

       a short pause, addressing himself chiefly to PRINCESS EBOLI.

       Meanwhile the sudden death of Pietro's wife

       Had left him free to wed. With the hot glow

       Of youthful blood the hoary lover drinks

       The fame that reached him of Matilda's charms.

       He comes—he sees—he loves! The new desire

       Stifles the voice of nature in his heart.

       The uncle woos his nephew's destined bride,

       And at the altar consecrates his theft.

       QUEEN.

       And what did then Fernando?

       MARQUIS.

       On the wings

       Of Jove, unconscious of the fearful change,

       Delirious with the promised joy, he speeds

       Back to Mirandola. His flying steed

       By starlight gains the gate. Tumultuous sounds

       Of music, dance, and jocund revelry

       Ring from the walls of the illumined palace.

       With faltering steps he mounts the stair; and now

       Behold him in the crowded nuptial hall,

       Unrecognized! Amid the reeling guests

       Pietro sat. An angel at his side—

       An angel, whom he knows, and who to him

       Even in his dreams, seemed ne'er so beautiful.

       A single glance revealed what once was his—

       Revealed what now was lost to him forever.

       EBOLI.

       O poor Fernando!

       QUEEN.

       Surely, sir, your tale

       Is ended? Nay, it must be.

       MARQUIS.

       No, not quite.

       QUEEN.

       Did you not say Fernando was your friend?

       MARQUIS.

       I have no dearer in the world.

       EBOLI.

       But pray

       Proceed, sir, with your story.

       MARQUIS.

       Nay, the rest

       Is very sad—and to recall it sets

       My sorrow fresh abroach. Spare me the sequel.

       [A general silence.

       QUEEN (turning to the PRINCESS EBOLI).

       Surely the time is come to see my daughter,

       I prithee, princess, bring her to me now!

       [The PRINCESS withdraws. The MARQUIS beckons a Page. The QUEEN

       opens the letters, and appears surprised. The MARQUIS talks with

       MARCHIONESS MONDECAR. The QUEEN having read the letters, turns to

       the MARQUIS with a penetrating look.

       QUEEN.

       You have not spoken of Matilda! She

       Haply was ignorant of Fernando's grief?

       MARQUIS.

       Matilda's heart has no one fathomed yet—

       Great souls endure in silence.

       QUEEN.

       You look around you. Who is it you seek?

       MARQUIS.

       Just then the thought came over me, how one,

       Whose name I dare not mention, would rejoice,

       Stood he where I do now.

       QUEEN.

       And who's to blame,

       That he does not?

       MARQUIS (interrupting her eagerly).

       My liege! And dare I venture

       To interpret thee, as fain I would? He'd find

       Forgiveness, then, if now he should appear.

       QUEEN (alarmed).

       Now, marquis, now? What do you mean by this?

       MARQUIS.

       Might he, then, hope?

       QUEEN.

       You terrify me, marquis.

       Surely he will not——

       MARQUIS.

       He is here already.

SCENE V.

       Table of Contents

      The QUEEN, CARLOS, MARQUIS POSA, MARCHIONESS MONDECAR.

       The two latter go towards the avenue.

       CARLOS (on his knees before the QUEEN).

       At length 'tis come—the happy moment's come,

       And Charles may touch this all-beloved hand.

       QUEEN.

       What headlong folly's this? And dare you break

       Into my presence thus? Arise, rash man!

       We are observed; my suite are close at hand.

       CARLOS.

       I will not rise. Here will I kneel forever,

       Here will I lie enchanted at your feet,

       And grow to the dear ground you tread on?

       QUEEN.

       Madman! To what rude boldness my indulgence leads!

       Know you, it is the queen, your mother, sir,

       Whom you address in such presumptuous strain?

       Know, that myself will to the king report

       This bold intrusion——

       CARLOS.

       And that I must die!

       Let them come here, and drag me to the scaffold!

       A moment spent in paradise like this

       Is not too dearly purchased by a life.

       QUEEN.

       But then your queen?

       CARLOS (rising).

       O God, I'll go, I'll go!

       Can I refuse to bend to that appeal?

       I am your very plaything. Mother, mother,

       A sign, a transient glance, one broken word

       From those dear lips can bid me live or die.

       What would you more? Is there beneath the sun

       One thing I would not haste to sacrifice

      

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