Here's Montferrat—a breadth here, a space there—
To o'ersweep all these, what 's one weapon worth?
I often think of how they fought in Greece:

(Or Rome, which was it? You 're the scholar, Charles!)
You made a front-thrust? But if your shield too
Were not adroitly planted, some shrewd knave
Reached you behind; and him foiled, straight if thong
And handle of that shield were not cast loose,
And you enabled to outstrip the wind,

Fresh foes assailed you, either side; 'scape these,
And reach your place of refuge-e'en then, odds
If the gate opened unless breath enough
Were left in you to make its lord a speech.
Oh, you will see!

Charles.

No: straight on shall I go,

Truth helping; win with it or die with it.

Victor. 'Faith, Charles, you're not made Europe's

fighting-man!

The barrier-guarder, if you please. You clutch
Hold and consolidate, with envious France

This side, with Austria that, the territory

I held—ay, and will hold . . . which you shall hold
Despite the couple! But I've surely earned
Exemption from these weary politics,

-The privilege to prattle with my son

And daughter here, though Europe wait the while.

Polyxena. Nay, sir,-at Chambery, away for ever,
As soon you will be, 't is farewell we bid you:
Turn these few fleeting moments to account!
"T is just as though it were a death.

Victor.

Polyxena [aside]. Is the trap there?
Charles.

Indeed!

Ay, call this parting-death

The sacreder your memory becomes.

If I misrule Sardinia, how bring back

Polyxena [who watches VICTOR narrowly this while].

Your father does not mean

You should be ruling for your father's sake:

It is your people must concern you wholly
Instead of him. You mean this, sir? (He drops
My hand!)

Charles.

That people is now part of me.

Victor. About the people! I took certain measures Some short time since . . . Oh, I know well, you know

But little of my measures! These affect

The nobles; we 've resumed some grants, imposed

A tax or two prepare yourself, in short,

For clamour on that score.

Mark me: you yield

No jot

No jot of aught entrusted you!

Polyxena.

You yield!

Charles. My father, when I took the oath,
Although my eye might stray in search of yours,
I heard it, understood it, promised God

What you require. Till from this eminence
He move me, here I keep, nor shall concede

The meanest of my rights.

Victor [aside].

The boy's a fool!

-Or rather, I'm a fool: for, what's wrong here?
To-day the sweets of reigning: let to-morrow

Be ready with its bitters.

Enter D'ORMEA.

There's beside

Somewhat to press upon your notice first.

Charles. Then why delay it for an instant, sir? That Spanish claim perchance? And, now you speak, -This morning, my opinion was mature, Which, boy-like, I was bashful in producing

To one I ne'er am like to fear in future!

My thought is formed upon that Spanish claim.

Victor. Betimes indeed. Not now, Charles! You

require

A host of papers on it.

D'Ormea [coming forward]. Here they are.

[To CHARLES.] I, sir, was minister and much beside Of the late monarch; to say little, him

I served: on you I have, to say e'en less,

No claim.

This case contains those papers: with them

I tender you my office.

Victor [hastily.]

Keep him, Charles!

There's reason for it—many reasons: you

Distrust him, nor are so far wrong there,—but
He's mixed up in this matter-he'll desire
To quit you, for occasions known to me:

Do not accept those reasons: have him stay!
Polyxena [aside]. His minister thrust on us!
Charles [to D'ORMEA].

In justice to myself, you do not need

Sir, believe,

E'en this commending: howsoe'er might seem
My feelings toward you, as a private man,
They quit me in the vast and untried field
Of action. Though I shall myself (as late
In your own hearing I engaged to do)
Preside o'er my Sardinia, yet your help
Is necessary. Think the past forgotten
And serve me now!

D'Ormea.

I did not offer you

My service would that I could serve you, sir!
As for the Spanish matter

Victor.

But despatch

At least the dead, in my good daughter's phrase,

Before the living! Help to house me safe

Ere with D'Ormea you set the world a-gape!

Here is a paper-will you overlook

What I propose reserving for my needs?

I get as far from you as possible:

Here's what I reckon my expenditure.

Charles [reading]. A miserable fifty thousand crowns— Victor. Oh, quite enough for country gentlemen! Beside the exchequer happens.. but find out All that, yourself!

Charles [still reading]. "Count Tende"-what means

this ?

Victor. Me: you were but an infant when I burst Through the defile of Tende upon France.

Had only my allies kept true to me!

Was for my own detailing. [To CHARLES.] That anon! Charles [to D'ORMEA]. Explain what you have said, sir ! D'Ormea.

The marriage of the King to her I named,

Profoundly kept a secret these few weeks,

Was not to be one, now he's Count.

I supposed