The monarch is
Engaged in urgent business. No one now
Can be admitted.
EBOLI.
Has he signed, as yet,
The fatal sentence? He has been deceived.
DOMINGO (giving her a significant look at a distance).
The Princess Eboli!
EBOLI (going to him).
What! you here, priest?
The very man I want! You can confirm
My testimony!
[She seizes his hand and would drag him into the cabinet.
DOMINGO.
I? You rave, princess!
FERIA.
Hold back. The king cannot attend you now.
EBOLI.
But he must hear me; he must hear the truth
The truth, were he ten times a deity.
EBOLI.
Man, tremble at the anger of thy idol.
I have naught left to hazard.
[Attempts to enter the cabinet; ALVA rushes out, his eyes
sparkling, triumph in his gait. He hastens to DOMINGO,
and embraces him.
ALVA.
Let each church
Resound with high To Dennis. Victory
At length is ours.
DOMINGO.
What! Ours?
ALVA (to DOMINGO and the other GRANDEES).
Now to the king.
You shall hereafter hear the sequel from me.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
A chamber in the royal palace, separated from a large fore-court
by an iron-barred gate. Sentinels walking up and down. CARLOS
sitting at a table, with his head leaning forward on his arms, as
if he were asleep. In the background of the chamber are some
officers, confined with him. The MARQUIS POSA enters, unobserved
by him, and whispers to the officers, who immediately withdraw.
He himself steps close up to CARLOS, and looks at him for a few
minutes in silent sorrow. At last he makes a motion which awakens
him out of his stupor. CARLOS rises, and seeing the MARQUIS, starts
back. He regards him for some time with fixed eyes, and draws his
hand over his forehead as if he wished to recollect something.
MARQUIS.
Carlos! 'tie I.
CARLOS (gives him his hand).
Comest thou to me again?
'Tis friendly of thee, truly.
MARQUIS.
Here I thought
Thou mightest need a friend.
CARLOS.
Indeed! was that
Thy real thought? Oh, joy unspeakable!
Right well I knew thou still wert true to me.
MARQUIS.
I have deserved this from thee.
CARLOS.
Hast thou not?
And now we understand each other fully,
It joys my heart. This kindness, this forbearance
Becomes our noble souls. For should there be
One rash, unjust demand amongst my wishes,
Wouldst thou, for that, refuse me what was just?
Virtue I know may often be severe,
But never is she cruel and inhuman.
Oh! it hath cost thee much; full well I know
How thy kind heart with bitter anguish bled
As thy hands decked the victim for the altar.
MARQUIS.
