Swift into that opening flashed the home-thrust of the Infante’s answer. “What harm have my people of Coimbra done? What concern is it of theirs that I have offended you? Yet to master me you did not hesitate to strike at them with the spiritual weapons that are yours. To master you I do not hesitate to strike at your nephews with the lethal weapons that are mine. When you shall have seen them hang you will understand the things that argument could not make clear to you. In the vileness of my act you will see a reflection of the vileness of your own, and perhaps your heart will be touched, your monstrous pride abated.” Outside, under the tree, the figures of the men-at-arms were moving. Expeditiously, and with indifference, they went about the preparations for the task entrusted to them. The Cardinal writhed, and fought for breath. “Lord Prince, this must not be!” He stretched forth supplicating hands. “Lord Prince, you must release my nephews.” “Lord Cardinal, you must absolve my people.” “If... if you will first make submission. My duty... to the Holy See... Oh God! Will nothing move you?” “When they have been hanged you will understand, and out of your own affliction learn compassion.” The Infante’s voice was so cold, his mien so resolute that the legate despaired of conquering his purpose. Abruptly he capitulated, even as the halters went about the necks of his two cherished lads. “Stop!” he screamed. “Bid them stop! The curse shall be lifted.” Affonso Henriques opened the window with a leisureliness which to the legate seemed to belong to the realm of nightmare. “Wait yet a moment,” the Infante called to those outside, about whom by now a little knot of awe-stricken villagers had gathered. Then he turned again to Cardinal Corrado, who had sunk to his chair like a man exhausted, and sat now panting, his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. “Here,” said the prince, “are the terms upon which you may have their lives: Complete absolution, and Apostolic benediction for my people and myself this very night, I on my side making submission to the Holy Father’s will to the extent of releasing my mother from duress, with the condition that she leaves Portugal at once and does not return. As for the banished bishop and his successor, matters must remain as they are; but you can satisfy your conscience on that score by yourself confirming the appointment of Don Zuleyman. Come, my lord, I am being generous, I think. In the enlargement of my mother I afford you the means of satisfying Rome. If you have learnt your lesson from what I here proposed, your conscience should satisfy you of the rest.” “Be it so,” the Cardinal answered hoarsely. “I will return with you to Coimbra and do your will.”