boy's bed, and
the cloth that had enclosed the dead man's skull was placed on his
forehead.

That night, we are gravely told, the dead friar came to Carlos in his
sleep, bidding him to "be of good cheer, for he would certainly recover."
Soon after, the fever subsided, his head shrank back to its natural size,
his sight returned. In two months from the date of the accident he was
physically well, his recovery being partly or wholly due to the skill of
an Italian surgeon, who trepanned him and by this act restored him to
consciousness.

Likely enough the boy was never cured. The blow may have done some
permanent injury to his brain. At any rate, he became strikingly eccentric
and reckless, giving way to every mad whim that came into his mind. The
stories of his wild doings formed the scandal of Madrid. In 1564 one of
his habits was to patrol the streets with a number of young nobles as
lawless as himself, attacking the passengers with their swords, kissing
the women, and using foul language to ladies of the highest rank.

At that time it was the custom for the young gallants of the court to wear
very large boots. Carlos increased the size of his, that he might carry in
them a pair of small pistols. Fearing mischief, the king ordered the
shoemaker to reduce the size of his son's boots; but when the unlucky son
of St. Crispin brought them to the palace, the prince flew into a rage,
beat him severely, and then ordered the leather to be cut into pieces and
stewed, and forced the shoemaker to swallow it on the spot--or as much of
it as he could get down.

These are only a sample of his pranks. He beat his governor, attempted to
throw his chamberlain out of the window, and threatened to stab Cardinal
Espinosa for banishing a favorite actor from the palace.

One anecdote told of him displays a reckless and whimsical humor. Having
need of money, Carlos asked of a merchant, named Grimaldo, a loan of
fifteen hundred ducats. The money-lender readily consented, thanked the
prince for the compliment, and, in the usual grandiloquent vein of
Castilian courtesy, told Carlos that all he had was at his disposal.

"I am glad to learn that," answered the prince. "You may make the loan,
then, one hundred thousand ducats."

Poor Grimaldo was thunderstruck. He tremblingly protested that it was
impossible,--he had not the money. "It would ruin my credit," he declared.
"What I said were only words of compliment."

"You have no right to