throbs at the name of its conqueror! how it recognizes him!

_Leonora._ Pardon me, dear lady, if I am wanting in respect in blaming
this passion; a noble princess to so far forget herself as to admit in
her heart a simple [_or_, humble] cavalier! And what would the King
say?--what would Castile say? Do you still remember of whom you are the
daughter?

_Infanta._ I remember it so well, that I would shed my blood rather than
degrade my rank. I might assuredly answer to thee, that, in noble souls,
worth alone ought to arouse passions; and, if my love sought to excuse
itself, a thousand famous examples might sanction it. But I will not
follow these--where my honor is concerned, the captivation of my
feelings does not abate my courage, and I say to myself always, that,
being the daughter of a king, all other than a monarch is unworthy of
me. When I saw that my heart could not protect itself, I myself gave
away that which I did not dare to take; and I put, in place of my self,
Chimène in its fetters, and I kindled their passions [_lit._ fires] in
order to extinguish my own. Be then no longer surprised if my troubled
soul with impatience awaits their bridal; thou seest that my happiness
[_lit._ repose] this day depends upon it. If love lives by hope, it
perishes with it; it is a fire which becomes extinguished for want of
fuel; and, in spite of the severity of my sad lot, if Chimène ever has
Rodrigo for a husband, my hope is dead and my spirit, is healed.
Meanwhile, I endure an incredible torture; even up to this bridal.
Rodrigo is dear to me; I strive to lose him, and I lose him with regret,
and hence my secret anxiety derives its origin. I see with sorrow that
love compels me to utter sighs for that [object] which [as a princess] I
must disdain. I feel my spirit divided into two portions; if my courage
is high, my heart is inflamed [with love]. This bridal is fatal to me, I