Meanwhile the fair Padillia, Whose judgement clear and great, Her royal lover’s secret thoughts, Though deepest penetrate, In whom the goodness of her heart The enchantment still excels, That in her beauteous face and form So marvellously dwells, Unhappy victim lives of fears, That ever her attend, Because she loves the king, and sees His course in evil end: She knows that based in blood and grief, And persecution’s train, A palace never is secure, No throne can fix’d remain. And she has two young tender girls, Who with another sire, Whate’er their lot, might all have gain’d Their hearts could best require; And in Fadrique’s worth she sees A stay and partisan. She knows he comes to Seville now, And as from words can scan Her fierce lord’s brow dark lowering, In evil hour he came, And to allay suspicions, Or give them higher aim, At length, though with a trembling lip, The silence breaking dared To speak, and thus the words that pass’d Between the two declared: “Your brother then, Fadrique, Triumphant comes today?” “And certainly in coming, The wretch makes long delay.” “He serves you well, and hero-like, As does Humillia show, Of loyalty gives proofs, and brave He is”--“Sufficient so.” “You may be sure, Sire, that his heart Will ever true remain.” “Tomorrow still more sure of that.” Both silent were again. IV.