“The stake!” shrieked Elvira, “and is it to this thou bringest me?” And then rising, and standing before Garcia, she continued--“Man--for son I cannot call thee now--how canst thou be so cruel? Is there no voice in a mother’s misery to touch thy heart?” Garcia answered not, but desired the officer to proceed and summon the next witness. The officer called out the name of Gonsalo! Not alone Elvira, but the whole court were surprised to see the king’s second son presenting himself as his mother’s accuser. Gonsalo had a new series of alleged facts to produce. He had been allured by the promises of Garcia, and his avarice and love of power outweighed whatever feelings of reluctance he might otherwise have experienced. His courage failed him, however, as he perceived those looks of aversion among the spectators which it required more firmness than he possessed to disregard; and having closed his testimony, he was slinking away, in order to escape the glance of Elvira, when she called him back, and catching his hand, addressed him:-- “What have I done to thee, Gonsalo, that thou shouldst blast my fame and take away my life? I would not injure a hair of _thy_ head! Three times I snatched thee from the grave before thy childhood was past, when thou wert ailing. I lost strength and sleep and beauty while bending over thy cradle. I would I had been in my grave before thou sawest the light! I will not curse thee--I will not even beg thy pity; but when thou hast children of thine own, thou mayest guess what thou hast made me suffer, and that will be curse enough--go!” “The infante Don Fernando, appear!” cried the officer. A pang, as if her brain had been pierced with a fiery needle, smote the wretched mother as the boy answered to his name. A loud buzz of disapprobation ran through the assembly, and Sancho himself seemed as if he could bear the unnatural scene no longer; but intense curiosity now prevailed with all, and overcame every other feeling. A dead silence ensued while Fernando stood confronting the queen.