s, the cavalier had noble and great qualities. A stranger to
courts, in the camp he was renowned for a chivalrous generosity and an
extravagant valour, that emulated the ancient heroes of Spanish romaunt
and song. His was a dawn that promised a hot noon and a glorious eve.
The name of this brave soldier was Martin Fonseca. He was of an ancient
but impoverished house, and related in a remote degree to the Duke de
Lerma. In his earliest youth he had had cause to consider himself
the heir to a wealthy uncle on his mother's side; and with those
expectations, while still but a boy, he had been invited to court by
the cardinal-duke. Here, however, the rude and blunt sincerity of his
bearing had so greatly shocked the formal hypocrisies of the court, and
had more than once so seriously offended the minister, that his powerful
kinsman gave up all thought of pushing Fonseca's fortunes at Madrid, and
meditated some plausible excuse for banishing him from court. At this
time the rich uncle, hitherto childless, married a second time, and was
blessed with an heir. It was no longer necessary to keep terms with
Don Martin; and he suddenly received an order to join the army on the
frontiers. Here his courage soon distinguished him; but his honest
nature still stood in the way of his promotion. Several years elapsed,
and his rise had been infinitely slower than that of men not less
inferior to him in birth than merit. Some months since, he had repaired
to Madrid to enforce his claims upon the government; but instead of
advancing his suit, he had contrived to effect a serious breach with
the cardinal, and been abruptly ordered back to the camp. Once more he
appeared at Madrid; but this time it was not to plead desert and demand
honours.

In any country but Spain under the reign of Philip the Third, Martin
Fonseca would have risen early to high fortunes. But, as we have said,
his talents were not those of the flatterer or the hypocrite; and it was
a matter of astonishment to the calculators round him to see Don Martin
Fonseca in the ante-room of Roderigo Calderon, Count Oliva, Marquis de
Siete Iglesias, secretary to the King, and parasite and favourite of the
Infant of Spain.

"Why come you here at all?" repeated the young soldier.

"Senor," answered Don Felix de Castro, with great gravity, "we have
business with Don Roderigo. Men of our station must attend to the
affairs of the state, no matter by whom transacted."

"That is, you mus