Char. There ’s nothing, cousin,—nothing but the sea.
Car. Oh, look! They wear the Mexican dress!
Char. Come in,
Sweet princess!
Car. Ah yes, they’re Mexicans.
Char. Come!
You ’ve had some fever. ’T is a sick-room vision.
Car. No, no! I ’m well! Ah, never in such health!
I see like God! O look! A score of them!
Moving but silent as death! Where are they marching?
The sun gleams on their guns! O see, Charles, see!
There is a prisoner! Poor man! poor man!
I can not see his face. He walks most sadly,—
And proudly too! An upright soul, I know!
Car. He ’s humbly dressed,
And but for that I ’d think he might be royal,
Ah, royal as Maximilian! O Charles,
I am so glad he ’s safe upon the sea!
Safe—safe—and coming to me!
Char. (Most pleadingly) Come, wait within,
Dear princess! Come!
Car. I will not leave him! No!
The poor, sad prisoner! Those cruel weapons!
I fear—I fear—he is condemned to die.
... Perhaps he has a wife. Ah me, I pray not.
Then would be tears! He is a noble man,—
But still his face is from me.... They reach the field.
The soldiers halt and lift their guns. O how they gleam!
... I can not see.... Why is the face so dim?
Will no one save him? Let us pray for him!
We can do that! Down on our knees and pray!
O men, men, men! What sin beneath the sun
Can give excuse for such a deed as this?
O, Heaven, are you looking too? A man
So noble! Oh, he turns—he turns—his breast
Is to the weapons! Now they fire! He falls!
His face! (Gives a wild cry) Oh God! ’t is Maximilian!