“Within a few months of forty.”

“So young!” cried the Queen.  “Yet, when one looks at you closely, your appearance corresponds with your years.”

Quijada pointed to the gray locks on his temples, but the Queen eagerly continued: 

I noticed that at Brussels.  And do you know what gave you those few white hairs?  Simply the responsibility that so cruelly shortened the Emperor’s youth, and which at least grazes you.  As I saw him to-day, Luis, many a man of sixty has a more vigorous appearance.”

“And yet, if your Majesty will permit me to say so,” Quijada replied with a low bow, “he may be in a very different condition to-morrow.  I heard Dr. Mathys himself remark that the life of a gouty patient was like a showery day in July—­gloomy enough while the thunder-storm was raging, but radiant before and afterward until the clouds rose again.  Surely your Majesty remembers how erect, how vigorous, and how knightly his bearing was when he greeted you on your arrival.  The happiness of having his beloved sister again restored his paralyzed buoyancy speedily enough, although just at present there is certainly no lack of cares pressing upon him, and notwithstanding the disastrous conditions which we found existing among the godless populace here.  That this cruel responsibility, however, can mature the mind without harming the body your Majesty is a living example.”

“Nonsense!” retorted the regent in protest.  “From you, at least, I forbid idle flattery!”

As she spoke she pointed with the riding whip, which, on account of her four-footed favourites, she carried in her hand, to her own hair.  True, so far as it was visible under the stiff jewelled velvet cap which covered her head, the fair tresses had a lustrous sheen, and the braids, interwoven with pearls, were unusually thick, but a few silver threads appeared amid the locks which clustered around the intellectual brow.

Quijada saw them, and, with a respectful bow, answered.

“The heavy burden of anxiety for the Netherlands, which is not always rewarded with fitting gratitude.”

“Oh, no,” replied the Queen, shrugging her shoulders contemptuously.  “Yes, many things in Brussels rouse my indignation, but they do not turn my hair gray.  It began to whiten up here, under the widow’s cap, if you care to know it, and, if the Emperor’s health does not improve, the locks there will soon look like my white Diana’s.”

Here she hesitated, and, accustomed both in the discharge of the duties of her office and during the chase not to deviate too far from the goal she had in view, she first gave her favourite dog, which had leaped on Don Luis in friendly greeting, a blow with her whip, and then said in a totally different tone: 

“But I am not the person in question.  You have already heard that you must help me, Luis.  Did you see the Emperor yesterday after vespers?”

“I had the honour, your Majesty.”