We are next introduced to the apartment of the princess of Eboli. The repentant lady is surprised by Carlos, who in despair of assistance from any other source, comes to beseech her, by her past tenderness for him, to help him to an audience with his mother. In her extreme surprise and confusion, she scarcely comprehends his request; they are interrupted by the Marquis of Posa, followed by two officers of the guard. Displaying the royal warrant, he arrests Carlos, and hurries him away before he has time to utter another word; then endeavors to learn from the lady how much he has already communicated. He holds a dagger to her breast, threatening to murder her if she will not disclose the secret; then struck by a sudden thought, releases her. Eboli rushes to the queen's presence and falls at the feet of her mistress, to announce the prince's arrest by the Marquis. _Queen_. Now, God be praised, it was by Posa's hand He was made prisoner. _Princess of Eboli_. And say you that So calmly, queen? So coldly? Righteous Heaven! You think not—Oh! you know not—— _Queen_. Wherefore he's A prisoner? For some error, I suppose, Which to the headlong character of youth Was natural. _Princess of Eboli_. Oh no—no! I know better! O queen! An infamous, a devilish deed! For him there is no safety more! He dies! _Queen_. He dies? _Princess of Eboli_. And I—I am his murderess! _Queen_. He dies? Insane—consider you. _Princess of Eboli_. And wherefore, Wherefore dies he? Oh, could I but have known That it would come to this! _Queen_. (_taking her hand_.) Princess, your senses Have quite forsaken you. Collect your spirits, Compose yourself—that without looks of horror That so affright me, you may tell me all. What know you? What has happened? _Princess of Eboli_. Oh, not thus, Not with such heavenly condescension—not So graciously—my mistress! Flames of hell Rage in this conscious breast. I am not worthy To raise my look profane up to that summit Of purity and glory. Crush, oh, crush The wretch who at your feet lies bowed by shame, Repentance—self-abhorrence! _Queen_. Unhappy girl, What have you to confess?