When he had sent away Mendoza, the King remained standing and began to pace the floor, while Don John stood by the table watching him and waiting for him to speak.  It was clear that he was still angry, for his anger, though sometimes suddenly roused, was very slow to reach its height, and slower still to subside; and when at last it had cooled, it generally left behind it an enduring hatred, such as could be satisfied only by the final destruction of the object that had caused it.  That lasting hate was perhaps more dangerous than the sudden outburst had been, but in moments of furious passion Philip was undoubtedly a man to be feared.

He was evidently not inclined to speak until he had ascertained that no one was listening in the next room, but as he looked from time to time at Don John his still eyes seemed to grow almost yellow, and his lower lip moved uneasily.  He knew, perhaps, that Mendoza could not at once find the servant in whose keeping the key of the door was supposed to be, and he grew impatient by quick degrees until his rising temper got the better of his caution.  Don John instinctively drew himself up, as a man does who expects to be attacked.  He was close to the table, and remained almost motionless during the discussion that followed, while Philip paced up and down, sometimes pausing before his brother for a moment, and then turning again to resume his walk.  His voice was muffled always, and was hard to hear; now and then it became thick and indistinct with rage, and he cleared his throat roughly, as if he were angry with it, too.  At first he maintained the outward forms of courtesy in words if not in tone, but long before his wrath had reached its final climax he forgot them altogether.

“I had hoped to speak with you in privacy, on matters of great importance.  It has pleased your Highness to make that impossible by your extraordinary behaviour.”

Don John raised his eyebrows a little incredulously, and answered with perfect calmness.

“I do not recollect doing anything which should seem extraordinary to your Majesty.”

“You contradict me,” retorted Philip.  “That is extraordinary enough, I should think.  I am not aware that it is usual for subjects to contradict the King.  What have you to say in explanation?”

“Nothing.  The facts explain themselves well enough.”

“We are not in camp,” said Philip.  “Your Highness is not in command here, and I am not your subordinate.  I desire you to remember whom you are addressing, for your words will be remembered.”

“I never said anything which I wished another to forget,” answered Don John proudly.

“Take care, then!” The King spoke sullenly, and turned away, for he was slow at retort until he was greatly roused.