“The inheritance of universal conquest,” he said, bowing and smiling to the Princess.  “Even the victories of Don John of Austria must yield to that.”

The Princess laughed carelessly.  Had Perez spoken the words, she would have frowned, but the King’s eyes were watching her.

“His Highness has fled from the field without striking a blow,” she said.  “We have not seen him this evening.”  As she spoke she met the King’s gaze with a look of enquiry.

“Don John will be here presently, no doubt,” he said, as if answering a question.  “Has he not been here at all since supper?”

“No, Sire; though every one expected him to come at once.”

“That is strange,” said Philip, with perfect self-possession.  “He is fond of dancing, too—­no one can dance better than he.  Have you ever known a man so roundly gifted as my brother, my lord?”

“A most admirable prince,” answered the Ambassador, gravely and without enthusiasm, for he feared that the King was about to speak of his brother’s possible marriage with Queen Mary of Scots.

“And a most affectionate and gentle nature,” said Philip, musing.  “I remember from the time when he was a boy that every one loved him and praised him, and yet he is not spoiled.  He is always the same.  He is my brother—­how often have I wished for such a son!  Well, he may yet be King.  Who should, if not he, when I am gone?”

“Your Majesty need not anticipate such a frightful calamity!” cried the Princess fervently, though she was at that moment weighing the comparative advantage of several mortal diseases by which, in appearance at least, his exit from the world might be accelerated.

“Life is very uncertain, Princess,” observed the King.  “My lord,” he turned to the English Ambassador again, “do you consider melons indigestible in England?  I have lately heard much against them.”

“A melon is a poor thing, of a watery constitution, your Majesty,” replied the Ambassador glibly.  “There can be but little sustenance in a hollow piece of water that is sucked from a marsh and enclosed in a green rind.  To tell the truth, I hear it ill spoken of by our physicians, but I cannot well speak of the matter, for I never ate one in my life, and please God I never will!”

“Why not!” enquired the King, who took an extraordinary interest in the subject.  “You fear them, then!  Yet you seem to be exceedingly strong and healthy.”

“Sire, I have sometimes drunk a little water for my stomach’s sake, but I will not eat it.”

The King smiled pleasantly.

“How wise the English are!” he said.  “We may yet learn much of them.”