He was received by the public with enthusiasm, by the Court with respect, and with real brotherly affection by the Royal Family. The King, pleased with his work, began to hope for great results from it; Princess Juana opened her arms and heart with all the frankness and goodness of her beautiful nature; and even Prince Carlos, who was hard and suspicious of his relations, from the first moment was affectionate. He called D. John apart one day with much mystery, and, taking a paper from his breast, made him swear that he would follow Prince Carlos to war whenever the time came. D. John promised, and the Prince, satisfied, gave him a jewel with a big emerald for his cap. But from the moment of his presentation at Court D. John met what we should call, but which was not so called in his days, a _twin soul_ in his nephew Alexander Farnese, who, from the first, shared his studies and his childish games, as later he shared D. John's labours, triumphs, joys and sorrows. The King had convened the Cortes in Toledo for the 9th of December, with the idea of causing his son D. Carlos to be sworn as Prince of the Asturias, and it seemed to him an opportune moment for presenting D. John as a royal prince in the official proceedings of the Court. The ceremony was fixed for the 22nd of February, 1560, and on the 12th the new Queen Isabel de Valois, rightly called "of the Peace," Philip II's third wife, made her first triumphant entry into Toledo. She came by the Gate of Visagra, riding a white hackney, under a brocaded canopy with an embroidered fringe, and on the shields an "F" and "I," initials of Philip and Isabel. There were great festivities, which were interrupted by the Queen having a slight attack of smallpox, which is why she did not attend the function. On the eve of this ceremony Princess Juana sent her brother D. John a very beautiful suit, begging him to wear it the next day. The good Princess had herself settled and chosen the colours and trimmings, as she judged would best set off the good looks of the youth: a jacket and gown of deep red velvet, richly embroidered with gold and silver thread, and magnificent diamond buttons. The oath was to be taken in the Cathedral, at that time orphaned of its Archbishop—who was the celebrated F. Bartolomé de Carranza, whom we have already met waiting on the last moments of the Emperor. But the storm which was gathering over the unfortunate prelate had already burst in all its fury, and he lay, ex-communicated, in the rigorous prisons of the Holy Office.