Don John listened in amazement.  It had never occurred to him any one could believe him capable of the least of the deeds Philip was attributing to him, and in spite of his resolution his anger began to rise.  Then, suddenly, as if cold water had been dashed in his face, he remembered that an hour had not passed since he had held Dolores in his arms, swearing to do that of which he was now accused, and that her words only had held him back.  It all seemed monstrous now.  As she had said, it had been only a bad dream and he had wakened to himself again.  Yet the thought of rebellion had more than crossed his mind, for in a moment it had taken possession of him and had seemed to change all his nature from good to bad.  In his own eyes he was rebuked, and he did not answer at once.

“You have nothing to say!” exclaimed Philip scornfully.  “Is there any reason why I should not try you for high treason?”

Don John started at the words, but his anger was gone, and he thought only of Dolores’ safety in the near future.

“Your Majesty is far too just to accuse an innocent man who has served you faithfully,” he answered.

Philip stopped and looked at him curiously and long, trying to detect some sign of anxiety if not of fear.  He was accustomed to torture men with words well enough, before he used other means, and he himself had not believed what he had said.  It had been only an experiment tried on a mere chance, and it had failed.  At the root of his anger there was only jealousy and personal hatred of the brother who had every grace and charm which he himself had not.

“More kind than just, perhaps,” he said, with a slight change of tone towards condescension.  “I am willing to admit that I have no proofs against you, but the evidence of circumstances is not in your favour.  Take care, for you are observed.  You are too much before the world, too imposing a figure to escape observation.”

“My actions will bear it.  I only beg that your Majesty will take account of them rather than listen to such interpretation as may be put upon them by other men.”

“Other men do nothing but praise you,” said Philip bluntly.  “Their opinion of you is not worth having!  I thought I had explained that matter sufficiently.  You are the idol of the people, and as if that were not enough, you are the darling of the court, besides being the women’s favourite.  That is too much for one man to be—­take care, I say, take care!  Be at more pains for my favour, and at less trouble for your popularity.”

“So far as that goes,” answered Don John, with some pride, “I think that if men praise me it is because I have served the King as well as I could, and with success.  If your Majesty is not satisfied with what I have done, let me have more to do.  I shall try to do even the impossible.”

“That will please the ladies,” retorted Philip, with a sneer.  “You will be overwhelmed with correspondence—­your gloves will not hold it all”