“See the world now!--the other day she was scorned by every body because both she and her paramour were in disgrace at court, but since the King gets so infirm and seems so averse to fix the succession, all the world worships her again. People think, you see, that Don Antonio will have the throne.” “Where then are the Braganzas?” exclaimed Sebastian, “What claims can the bastard Antonio make?” “Why, you see,” replied Lopez, “this same Antonio would have the best right if he could prove himself the lawful son of our cardinal King’s brother, the late duke De Beja; and so since he cannot prove it, he swears it; that is, he gives out that his father and mother were secretly married.--As for the Duchess of Braganza, she poor soul scarcely cares for a throne; her heart is out of this world.” “Alas!” exclaimed Sebastian, “did she lose both her sons in that fatal battle? Surely the Duke of Barcelos was only taken prisoner?” “Only!” repeated Lopez, “Holy Mary defend us! you soldiers think nothing of such matters. I can tell you, my lady duchess did not make so light of it when she got her poor boy back again, with a face like a corpse. He’ll never be the ruddy youth he was.” “He is returned then?” said Sebastian sighing deeply, “but the noble Diego, that wondrous child”-- “He never came back,” interrupted the good Vernara, “Alas, what a sad day was that which brought the disastrous news! My cousin, who has a sweetheart in the duchess’s family, was there when an officer came who had received his last breath.--The pretty boy was killed by a cannon ball: he fell in his place, following the King; and you may be sure then that he fell in the thick of the battle.” At this passing tribute to his bravery, the cheek of Sebastian suddenly glowed; he turned aside to conceal his emotion, and Lopez went on; “the King’s arm beat back the coward Moors that would have trampled over his pretty page; so this officer that I was speaking of, had time to stop and see if he could assist him, but the dear child made a sign that he would not be taken off the field; he grasped the officer’s hand and said, ‘tell my mother’--he could not go on, so pointing up to Heaven and raising his eyes with such a smile as if he would have said he was going to join angels like himself, he fetched a gentle sigh, and died.” Lopez put the back of his hand to his eyes as he spoke, and when he removed it again, it was quite wet with tears: the severer emotion of his royal companion shook his voice, as he hastily said--“but this dog, Lopez--you have not told me how it came into your possession.”