had already admired on the stage. Ah, Calderon, she blazed and set during
thy dull mission to Lisbon! I sought an opportunity to visit her. I was
astonished at her beauty, that seemed more dazzling in the chamber than
on the stage. I pressed my suit-in vain. Calderon, hear you that?--in
vain! Why wert thou not by? Thy arts never fail, my friend! She was
living with an old relation, or governante. The old relation died
suddenly--I took advantage of her loneliness--I entered her house at
night. By St. Jago, her virtue baffled and defeated me. The next morning
she was gone; nor could my researches discover her, until, at the convent
of St. Mary, I recognised the lost actress in the young novice. She has
fled to the convent to be true to Fonseca; she must fly from the convent
to bless the prince. This is my tale: I want thy aid."

"Prince," said Calderon, gravely, "thou knowest the laws of Spain; the
rigour of the Church. I dare not--"

"Pshaw. No scruples--my rank will bear thee harmless. Nay, look not so
demure; why, even thou, see, hast thy Armida. This billet in a female
hand--Heaven and earth Calderon! What name is this? Beatriz Coello!
Darest thou have crossed my path? Speak, sir!--speak!"

"Your highness," said Calderon, with a mixture of respect and dignity in
his manner--"your highness, hear me. My first benefactor, my beloved
pupil, my earliest patron, was the same Don Martin Fonseca who seeks this
girl with an honest love. This morning he has visited me, to implore my
intercession on his behalf. Oh, prince! turn not away: thou knowest not
half his merit. Thou knowest not the value of such subjects--men of the
old iron race of Spain. Thou hast a noble and royal heart: be not the
rival to the defender of thy crown. Bless this brave soldier--spare this
poor orphan--and one generous act of self-denial shall give thee