you hope for mercy!"

"What mercy do you practice, you who preach a gospe of mercy in
the world, and cry for mercy now?" the Infante asked him.

"But this is an infamy! What harm have those poor children done?
What concern is it of theirs that I have offended you in
performing my sacred duty?"

Swift into that opening flashed the home-thrust of the Infante's
answer.

"What harm have my people of Coimbra done? What concern is it of
theirs that I have offended you? Yet to master me you did not
hesitate to strike at them with the spiritual weapons that are
yours. To master you I do not hesitate to strike at your nephews
with the lethal weapons that are mine. When you shall have seen
them hang you will understand the things that argument could not
make clear to you. In the vileness of my act you will see a
reflection of the vileness of your own, and perhaps your heart
will be touched, your monstrous pride abated."

Outside, under the tree, the figures of the men-at-arms were
moving. Expeditiously, and with indifference, they went about the
preparations for the task entrusted to them.

The Cardinal writhed, and fought for breath. "Lord Prince, this
must not be!" He stretched forth supplicating hands. "Lord
Prince, you must release my nephews."