"A curious mode of engaging their affections towards either the creed
or prince from which they have revolted!" cried Don John. "But you
say true, Ottavio. Such are precisely the instructions of my royal
brother; whom the Almighty soften with a more Christian spirit in his
upholding of the doctrines of Christianity!--I am bidden to regard
myself as in a conquered country. I am bidden to feel myself as I may
have felt at Modon or Lepanto. It may not be, it may not be!--These
people were the loyal subjects of my forefathers. These people are
the faithful followers of Christ."

"Let us trust that the old woman may get back her cow, and your
highness's tender conscience stand absolved,"--observed Gonzaga with
a smile of ill-repressed derision. "I fear, indeed, that the Court of
the Escurial is unprepared with sympathy for such grievances."

"Gonzaga!"--exclaimed Don John, suddenly reining up his horse, and
looking his companion full in the face, "these are black and bitter
times; and apt to make kings, princes, nobles, ay, and even prelates,
forget that they are men; or rather that there be men in the world
beside themselves."--Then allowing his charger to resume its
caracolling, to give time to his startled friend to recover from the
glow of consciousness burning on his cheek,--he resumed with a less
stern inflexion. "It is the vexation of this conviction that hath
brought my face to the meagreness and sallow tint that accused the
scorching sun of Barbary. I love the rush of battle. The clash of
swords or roaring of artillery is music to me. There is joy in
contending, life for life, with a traitor, and marshaling the fierce
battalions on the field. But the battle done, let the sword be
sheathed! The struggle over, let the blood sink into the earth, and