Car. A little coldness that might melt to love,
A little pity that might soon be hate,
A fair ‘God with you’ shaping to a curse—
Ig. What eye can harbor evil meeting yours
Where lies a grace that turns all ill to virtue?
Car. Would all were true as you, Ignacio!
(Looks to ballroom and shudders)
Those eyes! Would I looked not so deep in eyes!
... You love my lord?
Ig. I do, your majesty.
Car. Above all other men? (He is silent) Nay, do not answer!
’T was wrong to ask, for you have kinsmen maybe,
Brother, or uncle, some one dear in blood
Whom Heaven bids you cherish. But you will guard
Your Emperor! You ’ll watch with me for foes?
For foes? He has none! How the thought
Blasphemes his excellence! But ’t is a world
Where whitest merit draws the darkest souls
To prey upon it, while mere indifferent good
Escapes!... Ignacio, is it true, Juarez
Is not in Mexico?
Ig. O, madam!
Car. Ah!
Is ’t true the Liberals are disbanded?