On whom they knew not. All their hearts were troubled.
Old Halban tranquil sits, and on the face
Of Konrad drowns his glance,—a piercing glance,
Cold and severe, full of some secret speech.
Something he may recall, some counsel give,
Or waken grief in heart of Wallenrod,
Whose cloudy brow at once is calm again,
His eyes forego their fires, his rage is cool.
Thus when, in public sport, the lionward,
Before assembled lords, and dames, and knights,