a passion in Claudius which could not be fully answered. Her delicacy was pained in this discussion; but she determined to stay away for that day, whatever heart-ache it might cause her, as she plainly saw that he loved her, and that to encourage it would be only to give him more pain; and all day she wept and mourned over the hardness of her fate, as patient as a sacrifice.
The trumpets sounded; and when Claudius rode into the lists, and saw the seat unoccupied, and that the lady was absent, he was beset by a thousand agonizing conjectures; but still something so fatal seemed hid in her mournful look, that he dared not ask any about her. Finding the gates were shut, and that no more could enter the palace that day, he grew mad with passion at this persecution of Fate, and, fixing his arms in wrath, he made such savage havoc amongst the knights, that they dreaded his approach, and feared to tilt with him. After this, he quitted the lists suddenly.
Gertrude, wearied with the day's sorrow, slept that night well, and her spirits were refreshed; but more by her dream than any other thing, for it was full of promise and hope. At what will not the wretched grasp! Soon she heard of Claudius's fame, of his passiveness, his furious
