“It is certainly true that I have lived much in camps of late,” he answered, “and that a camp is not a school of manners, any more than the habit of commanding others accustoms a man to courtly submission.”

“Precisely.  You have learned to forget that you have a superior in Spain, or in the world.  You already begin to affect the manners and speech of a sovereign—­you will soon claim the dignity of one, too, I have no doubt.  The sooner we procure you a kingdom of your own, the better, for your Highness will before long become an element of discord in ours.”

“Rather than that,” answered Don John, “I will live in retirement for the rest of my life.”

“We may require it of your Highness,” replied Philip, standing still and facing his brother.  “It may be necessary for our own safety that you should spend some time at least in very close retirement—­very!” He almost laughed.

“I should prefer that to the possibility of causing any disturbance in your Majesty’s kingdom.”

Nothing could have been more gravely submissive than Don John’s tone, but the King was apparently determined to rouse his anger.

“Your deeds belie your words,” he retorted, beginning to walk again.  “There is too much loyalty in what you say, and too much of a rebellious spirit in what you do.  The two do not agree together.  You mock me.”

“God forbid that!” cried Don John.  “I desire no praise for what I may have done, but such as my deeds have been they have produced peace and submission in your Majesty’s kingdom, and not rebellion—­”

“And is it because you have beaten a handful of ill-armed Moriscoes, in the short space of two years, that the people follow you in throngs wherever you go, shouting for you, singing your praises, bringing petitions to you by hundreds, as if you were King—­as if you were more than that, a sort of god before whom every one must bow down?  Am I so simple as to believe that what you have done with such leisure is enough to rouse all Spain, and to make the whole court break out into cries of wonder and applause as soon as you appear?  If you publicly defy me and disobey me, do I not know that you believe yourself able to do so, and think your power equal to mine?  And how could that all be brought about, save by a party that is for you, by your secret agents everywhere, high and low, forever praising you and telling men, and women, too, of your graces, and your generosities, and your victories, and saying that it is a pity so good and brave a prince should be but a leader of the King’s armies, and then contrasting the King himself with you, the cruel King, the grasping King, the scheming King, the King who has every fault that is not found in Don John of Austria, the people’s god!  Is that peace and submission?  Or is it the beginning of rebellion, and revolution, and civil war, which is to set Don John of Austria on the throne of Spain, and send King Philip to another world as soon as all is ready?”