de,
Flash through the assembled throng; and that same eye
Confessed, "Now am I wholly satisfied!"
[CARLOS turns away.
This silent sorrow, which for eight long moons
Hath hung its shadows, prince, upon your brow--
The mystery of the court, the nation's grief--
Hath cost your father many a sleepless night,
And many a tear of anguish to your mother.

CARLOS (turning hastily round).
My mother! Grant, O heaven, I may forget
How she became my mother!

DOMINGO.
Gracious prince!

CARLOS (passing his hands thoughtfully over his brow).
Alas! alas! a fruitful source of woe
Have mothers been to me. My youngest act,
When first these eyes beheld the light of day,
Destroyed a mother.

DOMINGO.
Is it possible
That this reproach disturbs your conscience, prince?

CARLOS.
And my new mother! Hath she not already
Cost me my father's heart? Scarce loved at best.
My claim to some small favor lay in this--
I was his only child! 'Tis over! She
Hath blest him with a daughter--and who knows
What slumbering ills the future hath in store?

DOMINGO.
You jest, my prince. All Spain adores its queen.
Shall it be thought that you, of all the world,
Alone should view her with the eyes of hate--
Gaze on her charms, and yet be coldly wise?
How, prince? The loveliest lady of her time,
A queen withal, and once your own betrothed?
No, no, impossible--it cannot be!
Where all men love, you surely cannot hate.
Carlos could never so belie himself.
I prithee, prince, take heed she do not learn
That she hath lost her son's regard. The news
Would pain her deeply.

CARLOS. Ay, sir! think you so?

DOMINGO.
Your highness doubtless will remember how,
At the late tournament in Saragossa,
A lance's splinter struck our gracious sire.
The queen, attended by her ladies, sat
High in the centre gallery of the palace,
And looked upon the fight. A cry arose,
"The king! he bleeds!" Soon through the general din,
A rising murmur strikes upon her ear.
"The prince--the prince!" she cries, and forward rushed,
As though to leap down from the balcony,
When a voice answered, "No, the king himself!"
"Then send for his physicians!" she replied,
And straight regained her former self-composure.
[After a short pause.
But you seem wrapped in thought?

CARLOS. In wonder, sir,
That the king's merry confessor should own
So rare a skill in the romancer's art.
[Austerely.
Yet have I