Well had she stopped there! But she was very young, had no experience of the omnipotence of selfishness with man. Her fate had been a very sad one. She never sang to her child but with tears; and yet all had not taught her that oceans of blood would not bar man from an object of great desire. "I cannot be comforted, my lord," she answered, "notwithstanding all your generous promises--nay, notwithstanding even their fulfilment, while my poor father, against whom your mighty power is bent--I speak of Alphonso, King of Naples--is in such a case of peril." Charles's brow darkened; the compassionate look passed away; but still the unhappy girl went on, crushing out in the bosom of the young king the spark of pity which her melancholy situation had lighted. "My poor father, my lord," she continued, "has done nothing to call down your indignation upon him. Let me entreat your mercy on him; let me beseech you to pause and consider ere you ruin a man--a king who has never injured you--nay, who is ready to submit to any terms you are pleased to dictate. Oh, my noble lord, hear me; let me plead not only for my husband and myself, and my child, but for my father and my brother also." Ludovic the Moor, one of the most subtle readers of the human heart that the world has ever produced, heard her first reference to her father with delight; and his eyes were instantly turned towards the young king's face. He traced but too easily the change of feelings going on. He saw the first spark of irritation produced by the unwelcome topic: he saw her gradually fanning it into a flame by her efforts to change the settled and selfish purpose of the king. He saw the struggle between the sense of justice and a favourite scheme; he saw the anger which a consciousness of wrong, together with a resolution to persevere in wrong invariably produces, growing up in Charles's bosom; and he let her go on without a word, till he perceived that the effect was complete. Then suddenly interposing, he said, "May it please your majesty, such exciting scenes are too much for the feeble health of my poor nephew; I must care for it, if this lady does not. You have heard all she has to say, and if you will mark the duke's countenance, you will perceive, from the change which has taken place, that further discussion now would be dangerous if not fatal. I will therefore beseech your majesty to give this matter further consideration at a future day, and to visit the poor dwelling I have prepared for you." The king rose; and the poor duchess, perceiving too late the error she had committed, bent down her head upon her hands and wept. Charles took a kindly leave of the young duke, removing the further consideration of his case to that "more convenient season" which never comes, and merely saying to the poor helpless girl, who had pleaded for her father as well as for her husband, "Be comforted, madam. We will see to your protection and future fate."