Explore "A Knight of Spain" by Marjorie Bowen on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The Queen sat by the fire with idle hands; it was strange to all that she still lived, she seemed to walk as one always under the uplifted scythe of death: the frightened expression in her eyes had lately changed to a terrible indifferency, and it was as if she saw and heard nothing of what passed around her; in these days after Christmas Carlos was her constant companion, and she was kind to him though with a colder pity than she had used at first. This evening he sat with her by the fire lamenting to her that Don Juan had not yet returned from the Escorial save for one brief visit when he had been accompanied by the Prior of Atocha, a man Carlos hated since he had refused him absolution.
The Queen made no answer; she was staring into the flames and it might have been that she did not hear.