She had just indignantly informed Quijada what an immense burden of work, in spite of the pangs of the gout, her suffering brother had imposed upon himself ever since the first cock-crow. But he would take no better care of himself, and therefore it was difficult to help him. Was it not utterly unprecedented? Directly after mass he had examined dozens of papers, made notes on the margins, and affixed his signature; then he received Father Pedro de Soto, his confessor, the nuncio, the English and the Venetian ambassadors; and, lastly, had an interview with young Granvelle, the Bishop of Arras, which had continued three full hours, and perhaps might be going on still had not Dr. Mathys, the leech, put an end to it. Queen Mary had just found him utterly exhausted, with his face buried in his hands. “And you, too,” she added in conclusion, “can not help admitting that if this state of things continues there must be an evil end.” Quijada bent his head in assent, and then answered modestly: “Yet your Majesty knows our royal master’s nature. He will listen calmly to you, whom he loves, or to me, who was permitted to remain at his side as a page, or probably to the two Granvelles, Malfalconnet, and others whom he trusts, when they venture to warn him--” “And yet keep on in his mad career,” interrupted Queen Mary with an angry gesture of the hand. “Plus ultra--more, farther--is his motto,” observed Quijada in a tone of justification. “Forward ceaselessly, for aught I care, so long as the stomach and the feet are sound!” replied the Queen, raising her hand to the high lace ruff, which oppressed the breathing of one so accustomed to the outdoor air. “But when, like him, a man must give up deer-stalking and at every movement makes a wry face and can scarcely repress a groan--it might move a stone to pity!--he ought to choose another motto. Persuade him to do so, Quijada, if you are really his friend.” The smile with which the nobleman listened to this request plainly showed the futility of the demand.