“Don John is coming!  It is Don John of Austria!  Don John is there!”

It was almost a universal cry of welcome.  An instant later a dead silence followed as a chamberlain’s clear voice announced the royal presence, and King Philip advanced upon the platform of the throne.  For several seconds not a sound broke the stillness, and he came slowly forward followed by half a dozen nobles in immediate attendance upon him.  But though he must have heard his brother’s name in the general chorus of voices as soon as the door had been thrown open, he seemed by no means disconcerted; on the contrary, he smiled almost affably, and his eyes were less fixed than usual, as he looked about him with something like an air of satisfaction.  As soon as it was clear that he meant to descend the steps to the floor of the hall, the chief courtiers came forward, Ruy Gomez de Silva, Prince of Eboli, Alvarez de Toledo, the terrible Duke of Alva, the Dukes of Medina Sidonia and of Infantado, Don Antonio Perez the chief Secretary, the Ambassadors of Queen Elizabeth of England and of France, and a dozen others, bowing so low that the plumes of their hats literally touched the floor beside them.

“Why is there no dancing?” asked Philip, addressing Ruy Gomez, with a smile.

The Minister explained that one of the dances was but just over.

“Let there be more at once,” answered the King.  “Let there be dancing and music without end to-night.  We have good reason to keep the day with rejoicing, since the war is over, and Don John of Austria has come back in triumph.”

The command was obeyed instantly, as Ruy Gomez made a sign to the leader of the musicians, who was watching him intently in expectation of the order.  The King smiled again as the long strain broke the silence and the conversation began again all through the hall, though in a far more subdued tone than before, and with much more caution.  Philip turned to the English Ambassador.

“It is a pity,” he said, “that my sister of England cannot be here with us on such a night as this.  We saw no such sights in London in my day, my lord.”

“There have been changes since then, Sire,” answered the Ambassador.  “The Queen is very much inclined to magnificence and to great entertainments, and does not hesitate to dance herself, being of a very vital and pleasant temper.  Nevertheless, your Majesty’s court is by far the most splendid in the world.”

“There you are right, my lord!” exclaimed the King.  “And for that matter, we have beauty also, such as is found nowhere else.”

The Princess of Eboli was close by, waiting for him to speak to her, and his eyes fixed themselves upon her face with a sort of cold and snakelike admiration, to which she was well accustomed, but which even now made her nervous.  The Ambassador was not slow to take up the cue of flattery, for Englishmen still knew how to flatter in Elizabeth’s day.