A drawing-room at the Portuguese Court, although formal and ceremonious, was not quite so tedious an affair as that to which the sovereign of England is obliged to submit; for none but nobles being admitted to that honour, fewer people were present. It was also the custom of the King and Queen to make some observations to those who came to pay their respects, a practice which would greatly relieve the monotony of the almost interminable line of bowing figures, who pass, like characters in a raree-show, before their Majesties of England. The King was standing, as we have said, surrounded by the royal family, and the immediate attendants at the palace, the more public part of the ceremony not having yet commenced. "Where is Senhor Carvalho?" he said, looking round; "he ought, methinks, to have been here before now; for it is not like him to exhibit any want of respect to our person. Can any one say why he comes not?" "We have not seen him, please your Majesty," said one of Carvalho's colleagues in office; "though, doubtless, some affairs of your Majesty's detain him, for no business of his own could make a loyal subject forget his duty to his King; yet 'tis said that Senhor Carvalho spends his leisure time in a way some might consider derogatory to the high office he holds," he added, ever ready to throw a slur on the character of one he both hated and feared. Those words cost him dear. "Ah! Senhor Carvalho is, doubtless, a most loyal subject, and devoted minister; but it is the interest of all political adventurers to appear so," chimed in the Queen; "and if his zeal were to be judged by his own protestations, he would assuredly be a paragon of perfection. But methinks your Majesty might find, among the pure, high-born fidalgos, some equally as zealous and able as this low pretender." "No, no," answered the King, hastily. "Sebastiao Carvalho is no pretender, but has truly at heart the weal of my kingdom, with a mind to conceive, and a soul to execute, great purposes; and where is there a man in Portugal to be compared to him, either in mental or personal qualities." "In talents he is not deficient, as he has proved, by working himself into power, and of brute strength he possesses enough, certainly," observed a noble lord in waiting, who was privileged to say what he chose; "for I well remember, in one of his drunken fits, some years ago (I would rather not say how many) he broke my head, and nearly let out life itself, by what he called a gentle tap with his sword. As for talents, they were not discernible at College, at all events, except by the quantity of wine he could drink, and the daring impudence of his bearing among his superiors." "Those are qualities in which plebeians most excel," added another; "but in loyalty and devotion to a generous sovereign, who can equal the noble fidalgos of the land? It is the one sentiment in which all combine."