This command was promptly obeyed, and a youth stood forward on the edge of the dais, habited in a long dark mantle of coarse cloth, sandals on his bare feet, and a mass of thick fair hair combed down so straight under a pointed cap it was almost impossible to distinguish his features. Not that he appeared the least dismayed, but stood perfectly at his ease in front of the radiance of the scented lamps, his zither in his hand, minutely surveying the faces of those before him. “Your looks proclaim you young,” said the archbishop, struck for a moment with a fancied resemblance to some one he had seen. “Where do you come from? By our Lady of Saragossa, you have a pleasant voice.” “Grandeza,” answered the minstrel, “I am an orphan, of good birth, reduced to the greatest want. To-day, upon my word, I have not eaten a meal.” “Poor boy! here you shall have your fill. How long have you been so reduced?” “Since my father’s death, your Grace. He died when I was a child, and the wicked governors [Illustration: CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS.] he placed over me have despoiled me of my inheritance. You see me, mighty señors, reduced to sing for food.” “A right good youth, and worthy of largess,” observed Don Pedro de Mendoza, ill-famed as the most ruthless squanderer of the royal treasure. (If Don Pedro could have scanned the expression of the face before him, he might have seen such a smile of scorn gathering about the thin lips as would have startled him.) “The saints bless you!” was the reply, “and deal with you as you do to others. As for me,” with a deep sigh, “I am not only starving, but at this present time I know that my sinful guardians are carousing at my expense.” “The Virgin protect us!” exclaimed the archbishop. “Did ever man hear of such infamy!” “If the youth speaks truth,” returned Villena, not to be behindhand in the expression of sympathy, “the matter should be submitted to the king’s judges, and right done in ample restitution.” “Otherwise it were a disgrace to the government of the Regents,” put in Don Pedro de Mendoza. “Restitution is not sufficient,” sententiously observed the archbishop in a pompous voice, intended to impress the company with his high sense of justice. “If the guilt of his guardians be proved, death is their proper due.” “Methinks your holiness is somewhat severe,” put in the minstrel, making a low obeisance. “Not at all, not at all! We rule Castile and Leon, not the king, who is disabled by bodily infirmities. It is _our_ duty to have justice done.” “What noble sentiments!” exclaimed the singer, clasping his hands. “Happy is the king to possess such servants! I leave my appeal with you, my lords, confident that you will see me righted.” But what he said, though spoken low and in an altered voice, had such a familiar ring in it as to make the archbishop again look sharply at him; then, as if satisfied, he turned away. * * * * *