“The Escurial,” he muttered. “Philip, remembering Lepanto might give me that–if not, then Our Lady of Montserrat–but I am not dying,” he added. “My life is not finished–you must see that–my life is–not–finished.” An extraordinary feeling of peace came over him; he wondered at it and closed his eyes; he again saw the blue Sicilian seas encompassing him and heard their lapping waves in his ears. “I will sleep now,” he thought, “and when I wake I will plan a victory–life is so long and I am so young—” He smiled, for all the agony had ceased, and he was no longer conscious of his body; his head sank to one side so that his face was turned towards the wall.… Francisco Orantes rose from his knees. “He died very gently,” he said; “his soul passed as lightly as a bird to the bough.” Farnese made the sign of the cross, and his figure dilated with pride, ambition and power; he went to the armour in the corner and picked up the dead man’s bâton of command. * * * * * Philip buried his brother in the Escurial near the great Emperor who was their father. THE POLANDER The Polander was a very innocent fellow who came out of Germany to enter the service of my lord Conningsmarke, a Gentleman of a great Quality at this moment in _London_. He had taught the Polander some while ago at the instance of Captain Vratz, who was an old retainer of his, and who gave this youth a good character, especially for dressing Horses after the German Fashion. The Polander knew nothing of my lord Count Conningsmarke, and nothing about _England_, for he was very simple and ignorant, being but of Peasant birth, but the Captain he knew and loved, for this man had brought him out of Evil Days in Poland, and his heart held little else but a deep Affection for this Captain Vratz. On a Friday he came to London and inquired for the Governor of my Lord at the Academy of M. Flaubert and this gentleman sent for the Count’s Secretary; and there the Polander lay on Saturday night feeling very strange in this new City and constantly praying that he might meet with Captain Vratz soon, who had been to him such a Benefactor. The next day being the 11th of _February_ and bitter cold, Mr. Hanson, the Governor of my Lords, the young Counts of Conningsmarke, came to the Polander and bid him make ready to be carried to the Lodging of my Lord Charles. This Governor seemed in a great Confusion of mind; he went over words twice when he spoke, which was in the _German_ language (for the Polander knew not _English_) and the colour was up and down in his Face and his hands a-tremble. The Polander stood before him, very tall and strong and humble, with his blue eyes clouded with Bewilderment and Disappointment; for he hoped he would be taken to Captain Vratz, and presently dared to say as much, very timidly. Upon this Mr. Hanson broke out in a kind of Excitement.