and his calm, deep, brilliant eye. Calderon, immeasurably above his lord
in genius, was scarcely, perhaps, the equal of that beardless boy in
hypocrisy and craft, in selfish coldness, in matured depravity.

"Well," resumed the prince, "I pay you not these compliments without an
object. I have need of you--great need; never did I so require your
services as at this moment; never was there so great demand on your
invention, your courage, your skill. Know, Calderon, I love!"

"My prince," said the marquis, smiling, "it is certainly not first love.
How often has your highness--"

"No," interrupted the prince, hastily,--"no, I never loved till now. We
never can love what we can easily win; but this, Calderon, this heart
would be a conquest. Listen. I was at the convent chapel of St. Mary of
the White Sword yesterday with the queen. Thou knowest that the abbess
once was a lady of the chamber, and the queen loves her."

Both of us were moved and astonished by the voice of one of the
choir--it was that of a novice. After the ceremony the queen made
inquiries touching this new Santa Cecilia; and who dost thou think she
is? No; thou wilt never guess!--the once celebrated singer--the
beautiful, the inimitable Beatriz Coello! Ah! you may well look
surprised; when actresses turn nuns, it is well-nigh time for Calderon
and Philip to turn monks. Now, you must know, Roderigo, that I, unworthy
though I be, am the cause of this conversion. There is a certain Martin
Fonseca, a kinsman of Lerma's--thou knowest him well. I learned, some
time since, from the duke, that this young Orlando was most madly
enamoured of a low-born girl--nay, desired to wed her. The duke's story
moved my curiosity. I found that it was the young Beatriz Coello, whom I