, even in your
youth, when Love should more readily have fixed you with his fangs, as
now I discern, when you are already on the verge of old age, 'tis to me
so strange, so surprising that you should veritably love, that I deem it
little short of a miracle. And were it meet for me to reprove you, well
wot I the language I should hold to you, considering that you are yet in
arms in a realm but lately won, among a people as yet unknown to you, and
wily and treacherous in the extreme, and that the gravest anxieties and
matters of high policy engross your mind, so that you are not as yet able
to sit you down, and nevertheless amid all these weighty concerns you
have given harbourage to false, flattering Love. This is not the wisdom
of a great king, but the folly of a feather-pated boy. And moreover, what
is far worse, you say that you are resolved to despoil this poor knight
of his two daughters, whom, entertaining you in his house, and honouring
you to the best of his power, he brought into your presence all but
naked, testifying thereby, how great is his faith in you, and how assured
he is that you are a king, and not a devouring wolf. Have you so soon
forgotten that 'twas Manfred's outrageous usage of his subjects that
opened you the way into this realm? What treachery was he ever guilty of
that better merited eternal torment, than 'twould be in you to wrest from
one that honourably entreats you at once his hope and his consolation?
What would be said of you if so you should do? Perchance you deem that
'twould suffice to say:--'I did it because he is a Ghibelline.' Is it
then consistent with the justice of a king that those, be they who they
may, who seek his protection, as this man has sought yours, should be
entreated after this sort? King, I bid you remember that exceeding great
as is your glory to have vanquished Manfred, yet to conquer oneself is a
still greater glory: wherefore you, to whom belongs the correction of
others, see to it that you conquer yourself, and refrain this unruly
passion; and let not such a blot mar the splendour of your achievements."

Sore stricken at heart by the Count's words, and the more mortified that
he acknowledged their truth, the King heaved a fervent sigh or two, and
then:--"Count," quoth he, "that enemy there is none, however mighty, but
to the practised warrior is weak enough and easy to conquer in comparison
of his own appetite, I make no doubt, but, great though the struggle will