“A lady’s letter, Sire,” replied Don John, unmoved.

“Give it to me at once!”

“That, your Majesty, is a request I will not grant to any gentleman in Spain.”

He undid a button of his close-fitting doublet, thrust the letter into the opening and fastened the button again, before the King could speak.  The dwarf’s heart almost stood still with joy,—­he could have crawled to Don John’s feet to kiss the dust from his shoes.  The Queen smiled nervously, between fear of the one man and admiration for the other.

“Your Serene Highness,” answered Philip, with a frightful stare, “is the first gentleman of Spain who has disobeyed his sovereign.”

“May I be the last, your Majesty,” said Don John, with a courtly gesture which showed well enough that he had no intention of changing his mind.

The King turned from him coldly and spoke to Adonis, who had almost got his courage back a second time.

“You gave my message to his Highness, Fool?” he asked, controlling his voice, but not quite steadying it to a natural tone.

“Yes, Sire.”

“Go and tell Don Antonio Perez to come at once to me in my own apartments.”

The dwarf bent till his crooked back was high above his head, and he stepped backwards towards the door through which the servants had entered and gone out.  When he had disappeared, Philip turned and, as if nothing had happened, gave his hand to the Queen to lead her away with all the prescribed courtesy that was her due.  The servants opened wide the door, two gentlemen placed themselves on each side of it, the chief gentleman in waiting went before, and the royal couple passed out, followed at a little distance by Don John, who walked unconcernedly, swinging his right glove carelessly in his hand as he went.  The four gentlemen walked last.  In the hall beyond, Mendoza was in waiting with the guards.

A little while after they were all gone, Adonis came back from his errand, with his rolling step, and searched for the other glove on the floor, where the King had dropped it.  He found it there at once and hid it in his doubtlet.  No one was in the room, for the servants had disappeared as soon as they could.  The dwarf went quickly to Don John’s place, took a Venetian goblet full of untasted wine that stood there and drank it at a draught.  Then he patted himself comfortably with his other hand and looked thoughtfully at the slices of musk melon that lay in the golden dish flanked by other dishes full of late grapes and pears.

“God bless the Emperor Maximilian!” he said in a devout tone.  “Since he could not live for ever, it was a special grace of Providence that his death should be by melons.”