clear, mild voice, threaded with dignity. "Were
you summoned thither, Don Enrique de Cerda?"

He answered, "No, Highness! I came to the palace to seek Master Manuel
Rodriguez who is to paint for me an altarpiece for the Church of Saint
Dominic. You and the King, Madam, I thought were in Granada. Not finding
him in his own lodging, I made bold to come here. Then at once, before I
could hasten away, you returned!"

The true nature of this Queen was to think no evil. Her countenance
remained mild. He had done valiant service, and she was sisterly-minded
toward the greater part of the world. Now she said with serenity, "There
is no fault, Don Enrique. Stay with us now that you are here."

Bowing deeply, he joined a brother-in-arms, Don Miguel de Silva. His
squire stood in the shadow behind him, but found a chance-left lane of
vision down which much might be seen.

The Queen composed herself, in her chair. "This is the position, Master
Manuel?" The fair man, so fine and quick that I loved to look at him,
bowed and stepped back to his canvas, where he took up his brush and
fell to work. The Queen and the Archbishop began to speak earnestly
together. Words and sentences floated to Juan Lepe standing by the
arras. The Queen made thoughtful pauses, looking before her with steady
blue eyes and a somewhat lifted face. I noted that when she did this
Manuel Rodriguez painted fast.

There fell a pause in their talk. Something differing from the subject
of discourse, whatever in its fullness that might be, seemed to come
into her mind. She sent her glance across the room.

"Don Enrique de Cerda--"

The tone summoned. When he was before her, "It was in my mind," said the
Queen, "to send for you within a day or two. But now you are here, and
this moment while we await the King is as good as another. We have had
letters from the Bishop of Seville whom we reverence, and from Don Pedro
Enriquez to whom we owe much. They have to do with Jayme de Marchena who
has long been suspect by the Holy Office. He has fled Seville, gone none
know where! Don Pedro informs us, Don Enrique, that years ago this man
stood among your friends. He does not think it probable that this is yet
so--nor do I, Don Enrique, knowing that you must hold in abhorrence
the heretic!" She looked mildly upon him. "In youth we make chance
friendships thick as May, but manhood weeds the garden! And yet we think
it possible that this man may in his heart trade on old thi