But he has not long to wait. His satisfied glance shows it as a dark figure emerges from the crowd and he is joined by Albuquerque, much changed since his last interview with Don Pedro in the cloisters of the church of San Juan at Valladolid. The great minister, disgusted by the ingratitude of his master and the insults of Maria de Padilla, has changed sides, and is now attached to the varying fortunes of Don Enrique. He is thinner, and slightly bent, and his once commanding eyes are dimmer and sadder. As he approaches Don Jaime, an audible sigh passes his lips. Now, instead of at once settling the affairs of state with the unruly Don Pedro, who bears more respect to him than to any one else, he must consult with a colleague who naturally regards him with suspicion as a renegade, who from a bitter enemy has become a doubtful friend. “Shall we sit apart in the gallery?” Albuquerque asks, after ceremonious greetings have been exchanged between the rival counsellors, as they mount the steps together to the upper gallery, supported by slender pillars rising from a carved balustrade of singular richness in scroll work, stars, and arabesques; “or shall we enter the apartments?” “The heat is great,” is the reply, “let us remain here.” “Have you informed Don Enrique of the news?” anxiously asks Albuquerque, eyeing doubtfully the set face of the man before him. “I myself have not seen him this morning.” “If you mean his Grace the king, I have not either,” answers Don Jaime drily, his naturally ill-favoured countenance darkening into a most unpleasant expression. “But he must instantly know what has happened,” returns Albuquerque. “His Grace, as I understand,” replies Don Jaime, “is somewhat indisposed, and has not yet risen.” “Nevertheless, let us go to him instantly,” urges Albuquerque, “the greatest results depend on what has occurred.” “I scarcely view the matter in that light,” answers the other coldly. “We conquer or we fall by the fortune of war. It is not a struggle in which a woman more or less----” “A woman!” breaks in Albuquerque; “but this is a queen, who carries in her hand France and Navarre. She is here, in sanctuary within the cathedral. The importance of her presence cannot be underrated.” “It is natural that _you_ should think so,” retorts Don Jaime, with a sneer. “You brought her into Spain to establish alliances for Don Pedro. Now these have failed, you would use her on the other side.” “But, my lord, while we are here bandying unseemly words,” replies Albuquerque, unmoved by the covert insult implied, “time flies. Let us at once crave an audience of Don Enrique, and expose to him our views.”