g Philip.

Don Carlos, the deformed heir to the throne, was annoying with his coarse
jests some ladies of the court, who were holding their fans before their
faces, yet did not venture to make the sovereign's son feel their
displeasure.

Velvet, silk and jewels glittered, delicate laces rose and drooped around
the necks and hands of the ladies and gentlemen. Floating curls,
sparkling eyes, noble and attractive features enslaved the eye, but the
necks, throats and arms of the court dames were closely concealed under
high ruffs and lace frills, stiff bodices and puffed sleeves.

A subtile perfume filled the illuminated air of these festal halls;
amidst the flirting of light fans, laughter, gay conversation, and
slander reigned supreme. In an adjoining room golden zechins fell
rattling and ringing on the gaming-table.

The morose, bigoted court, hampered by rigid formality, had been invaded
by worldly pleasure, which disported itself unabashed by the presence of
the distinguished prelates in violet and scarlet robes, who paced with
dignified bearing through the apartments, greeting the more prominent
ladies and grandees.

A flourish of trumpets was borne on the air, and Philip appeared. The
cavaliers, bowing very low, suddenly stepped back from the fair dames,
and the ladies curtsied to the floor. Perfect silence followed.

It seemed as if an icy wind had passed over the flower-beds and bent all
the blossoms at once.

After a few minutes the gentlemen stood erect, and the ladies rose again,
but even the oldest duchesses were not allowed the privilege of sitting
in their sovereign's presence.

Gayety was stifled, conversation was carried on in whispers.

The young people vainly waited for the signal to dance.

It was long since Philip had been so proudly contemptuous, so morose as
he was to-night. Experienced courtiers noticed that His Majesty held his
head higher than usual, and kept out of his way. He walked as if engaged
in scrutinizing the frescos on the ceiling, but nothing that he wished to
see escaped his notice, and when he perceived Moor, he nodded graciously
and smiled pleasantly upon him for a moment, but did not, as usual,
beckon him to approach.

This did not escape the artist or Sophonisba, whom Moor had informed of
what had occurred.

He trusted her as he did himself, and she deserved his confidence.

The clever Italian had shared his anxiety, and as soon as the king
entered another apartment,