vetion and patriotic fidelity will be required to répair the disasters of our country.”
“Herein now is Bohemia doubly unhappy and oppressed,” answered Zawis. “Her conqueror exults in her overthrow and disposes of her provinces at his pleasure, and conspires with her sworn foes to annihilate the very sentiments that nourished our patriotism since we were a nation. This he does by the secret intrigues of the zealous minions who traverse our land to betray us to Rudolph’s master. But be of good cheer, lady; if there be warmth in Bohemian hearts, and devotion in Bohemian loyalty, that warmth and that loyalty would commend themselves to your acceptance.”
“Good Lord Zawis,” answered the queen, moved to tears by the earnest sympathy of her companion, “where do you think they will dispose of my boy, this day torn from me by a mock marriage, sanctioned by those called the priests of God? Surely such acts are neither religion nor humanity.”
“They are, however, Rudolphian policy, Madam,” answered Zawis. “And whatever enormity, provided only it bears the semblance of decent form, serves best the cause of Rudolph’s master at Rome, will be made to assume the mask of virtue, however hideous its essential constituents may be.”
“Have you any policy, Lord Zawis,” quietly asked the queen.
“I have, Madam,” replied the statesman, “and if I were assured of your sympathy with its principles, I would not hesitate to explain its outlines.”
