The young soldier was fresh from the field; hard service and exposure had deepened the olive tint of his clear complexion to a deep nut brown, and his beard was unshaven, and gave a fine classical effect to his handsome but melancholy features.  The bright clearness of his intelligent eye seemed to those who looked upon him there, to reflect the battles, sieges and victories that the gallant soldier had so lately participated in.  Though neat and clean in appearance, the somewhat sudden summons he had received, led him to appear before the court in his battle dress, and the same sword hung by his side that had so often reeked with the enemy’s blood, and flashed in the van of battle.

There was no hauteur in his bearing; his form was erect and military; there was no self-sufficiency or pride in his expression; but a calm, steady purpose of soul alone was revealed by the countenance that a hundred curious eyes now gazed upon.  More than one heart beat quicker among the lovely throng of ladies, as they gazed upon the young hero.  More than one kindly glance was bestowed upon him; but he was impervious to the shafts of Cupid; he could never suffer again; he could love but one, and she was far away from here.

Lorenzo Bezan had never been at court.  True that his father, and indeed his elder brother, and other branches of the house had the entree at court; but his early connection with the army, and a naturally retiring disposition, had prevented his ever having been presented, and he now stood there for the first time.  The queen was not present when he first entered, but she now appeared and took her seat of state.  Untaught in court etiquette, yet it came perfectly natural for Lorenzo Bezan to kneel before her majesty, which he did immediately, and was graciously bidden to rise.

“Count Basterio,” said the queen, “where is this Colonel Bezan, whom you were to bring to us to-day? have you forgotten your commission, sir?”

“Your majesty, he stands before you,” replied the complaisant courtier.

“Where, count?”

“Your majesty, here,” said the courtier, pointing more directly to our hero.

“This youth, this Colonel Bezan!  I had thought to sec an older person,” said the queen, gazing curiously upon the fine and noble features of the young soldier.

“I trust that my age may be of no detriment to me as it regards your majesty’s good feelings towards me,” said Lorenzo Bezan, respectfully.

“By no means, sir; you have served us gallantly in the field, and your bravery and good judgment in battle have highly commended themselves to our notice.”

“I am little used, your majesty, to courtly presence, and find that even now I have come hither accoutred as I would have ridden on to the field of battle; but if a heart devoted to the service of your majesty, and a willing hand to wield this trusty weapon, are any excuses in your sight, I trust for lenient judgment at your royal hands.”