Europe for all to read. It has been avidly read until Philip of Spain
has earned the contempt of every upright man. In his own dominions the
voice of execration has been raised against him. One of his own nobles
has contemptuously announced that Spain under Philip has become unsafe
for any gentleman, and that a betrayal of a subject by his king is
without parallel in history.

That is some measure of vengeance. But if I am spared I shall not leave
it there. Henry of Navarre is on the point of turning Catholic that his
interests may be better served. Elizabeth of England remains. In her
dominions, where thrives the righteous hatred of Philip and all the
evil that he stands for, I shall find a welcome and a channel for the
activities that are to show him that Antonio Perez lives. I have sent
him word that when he is weary of the conflict he can signify his
surrender by delivering from their prison my wife and children, upon
whom he seeks still to visit some of the vengeance I have succeeded in
eluding. When he does that, then will I hold my hand. But not before.

"That, madame, is my story," said Don Antonio, after a pause, and from
narrowing eyes looked at the beauty who had heard him through.

Daylight had faded whilst the tale was telling. Night was come, and
lights had long since been fetched, the curtains drawn over the long
windows that looked out across the parkland to the river.

Twice only had he paused in all that narrative. Once when he had
described the avowal of his love for Anne, Princess of Eboli, when a
burst of sobs from her had come to interrupt him; again when a curious
bird-note had rung out upon the gathering dusk. Then he stopped to
listen.

"Curious that," he had said--"an eagle's cry. I have not heard it these
many months, not since I left the hills of Aragon."

Thereafter he had continued to the end.

Considering her now, his glance inscrutable, he said:

"You weep, madame. Tell me, what is it that has moved you--the
contemplation of my sufferings, or of your own duplicity?"

She started up, very white, her eyes scared.

"I do not understand you. What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean, madame, that God did not give you so much beauty that you
should use it in the decoying of an unfortunate, that you should hire it
at an assassin's fee to serve the crapulous King of Spain."

He rose and towered before her, a figure at once of anger, dignity, and
some compassion.

"So much ardour from yout