ger grace.

Enter LUCA, ushering in DON JOHN unattended, completely enveloped
in a Spanish mantle, which he throws off, his face almost hidden
by a cavalier's hat. He uncovers his head on entering. RIBERA,
repressing a movement of surprise, hastens to greet him and kisses
his hand.

RIBERA.
Welcome, my lord!
I am shamed to think my sovereign's son should wait,
Through a churl's ignorance, without my doors.

DON JOHN.
Dear master, blame him not. I came attended
By one page only. Here I blush to claim
Such honor as depends on outward pomp.
No royalty is here, save the crowned monarch
Of our Sicilian artists. Be it mine
To press with reverent lips my master's hand.

RIBERA.
Your Highness is too gracious; if you glance
Round mine ill-furnished studio, my works
Shall best proclaim me and my poor deserts.
Luca, uplift you hangings.

DON JOHN (seating himself).
Sir, you may sit.

RIBERA (aside, seating himself slowly).
Curse his swollen arrogance! Doth he imagine
I waited leave of him?
(Luca uncovers the picture).

DON JOHN.
Oh, wonderful!
You have bettered here your best. Why, sir, he breathes!
Will not those locked lids ope?--that nerveless hand
Regain the iron strength of sinew mated
With such heroic frame? You have conspired
With Nature to produce a man. Behold,
I chatter foolish speech; for such a marvel
The fittest praise is silence.
[He rises and stands before the picture.]

RIBERA (after a pause).
I am glad
Your highness deigns approve. Lose no more time,
Lest the poor details should repay you not.
Unto your royal home 't will follow you,
Companion, though unworthy, to the treasures
Of the Queen's gallery.

DON JOHN.
'T is another jewel
Set in my father's crown, and, in his name,
I thank you for it.
[RIBERA bows silently. DON JOHN glances around the studio.]

DON JOHN.
There hangs a quaint, strong head,
Though merely sketched. What a marked, cunning leer
Grins on the wide mouth! what a bestial glance!

RIBERA.
'T is but a slight hint for my larger work,
"Bacchus made drunk by Satyrs."

DON JOHN.
W