“Dona Dolores is pale,” observed the King.  “Bring a cordial, Perez, or a glass of Oporto wine.”

“I thank your Majesty,” said the young girl quickly.  “I need nothing.”

“I will be your physician,” answered Philip, very suavely.  “I shall insist upon your taking the medicine I prescribe.”

He did not turn his eyes from her as Perez brought a gold salver and offered Dolores the glass.  It was impossible to refuse, so she lifted it to her lips and sipped a little.

“I thank your Majesty,” she said again.  “I thank you, sir,” she said gravely to Perez as she set down the glass, but she did not raise her eyes to his face as she spoke any more than she would have done if he had been a footman.

“I have much to say to you, and some questions to ask of you,” the King began, speaking very slowly, but with extreme suavity.

He paused, and coughed a little, but Dolores said nothing.  Then he began to look at her again, and while he spoke he steadily examined every detail of her appearance till his inscrutable gaze had travelled from her headdress to the points of her velvet slippers, and finally remained fixed upon her mouth in a way that disturbed her even more than the speech he made.  Perez had resumed his seat.

“In my life,” he began, speaking of himself quite without formality, “I have suffered more than most men, in being bereaved of the persons to whom I have been most sincerely attached.  The most fortunate and successful sovereign in the world has been and is the most unhappy man in his kingdom.  One after another, those I have loved have been taken from me, until I am almost alone in the world that is so largely mine.  I suppose you cannot understand that, my dear, for my sorrows began before you were born.  But they have reached their crown and culmination to-day in the death of my dear brother.”

He paused, watching her mouth, and he saw that she was making a superhuman effort to control herself, pressing the beautiful lips together, though they moved gainfully in spite of her, and visibly lost colour.

“Perez,” he said after a moment, “you may go and take some rest.  I will send for you when I need you.”

The Secretary rose, bowed low, and left the room by a small masked door in a corner.  The King waited till he saw it close before he spoke again.  His tone changed a little then and his words came quickly, as if he felt here constraint.

“I feel,” he said, “that we are united by a common calamity, my dear.  I intend to take you under my most particular care and protection from this very hour.  Yes, I know!” he held up his hand o deprecate any interruption, for Dolores seemed about to speak.  “I know why you come to me, you wish to intercede for your father.  That is natural, and you are right to come to me yourself, for I would rather hear your voice than that of another speaking for you, and I would rather grant any mercy in my power to you directly than to some personage of the court who would be seeking his own interest as much as yours.”