The Queen composed herself , in her chair. "This is the
position, Master Manuel?" The fair man, so fine and quick
that I loved to look at him, bowed and stepped back to his
canvas, where he took up his brush and fell to work. The
Queen and the Archbishop began to speak earnestly together.
Words and sentences floated to Juan Lepe standing by the
arras. The Queen made thoughtful pauses, looking before
her with steady blue eyes and a somewhat lifted face. I
noted that when she did this Manuel Rodriguez painted
fast.
There fell a pause in their talk. Something differing from
the subject of discourse, whatever in its fullness that might
be, seemed to come into her mind. She sent her glance across
the room.
"Don Enrique de Cerda--"
The tone summoned. When he was before her, "It was
in my mind," said the Queen, "to send for you within a
day or two. But now you are here, and this moment while
we await the King is as good as another. We have had
letters from the Bishop of Seville whom we reverence, and
from Don Pedro Enriquez to whom we owe much. They
have to do with Jayme de Marchena who has long been
suspect by the Holy Office. He has fled Seville, gone none
know where! Don Pedro informs us, Don Enrique, that
years ago this man stood among your friends. He does not
think it probable that this is yet so--nor do I, Don Enrique,
knowing that you must hold in abhorrence the heretic!"
She looked mildly upon him.
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