“I know not, your eminence; remember that I am but just returned to Madrid: it amazes me no less than it does your eminence.”
“Learn the cause of it, my good Calderon: the prince ever professed to hate Uzeda. Restore him to those feelings thou art all in all with his highness! If Uzeda once gain his ear, thou art lost.”
“Not so,” cried Calderon, proudly. “My service is to the king; I have a right to his royal protection, for I have a claim on his royal gratitude.”
“Do not deceive thyself,” said the duke, in a whisper. “The king cannot live long: I have it from the best authority, his physician; nor is this all—a formidable conspiracy against thee exists at court. But for myself and the king’s confessor, Philip would consent to thy ruin. The strong hold thou hast over him is in thy influence with the Infanta—influence which he knows to be exerted on behalf of his own fearful and jealous policy; that influence gone, neither I nor Aliaga could suffice to protect thee. Enough! Shut every access to Philip’s heart against Uzeda.” Calderon bowed in silence, and the duke hastened to the royal cabinet.
“What a fool was I to think that I could still wear a conscience!” muttered Calderon, with a sneering lip; “but, Uzeda, I will baffle thee yet.”
The next morning, the Marquis de Siete Iglesias presented himself at the levee of the prince of Spain.
Around the favourite, as his proud stature towered above the rest, flocked the obsequious grandees. The haughty smile was yet on his lip when the door opened and the prince entered. The crowd, in parting suddenly, left Calderon immediately in front of Philip; who, after gazing on him sternly for a moment, turned away, with marked discourtesy, from the favourite’s profound reverence, and began a low and smiling conversation with Gonsalez de Leon, one of Calderon’s open foes.
The crowd exchanged looks of delight and surprise; and each or the nobles, before so wooing in their civilities to the minister, edged cautiously away.
His mortification had but begun. Presently Uzeda, hitherto almost a stranger to those apartments, appeared; the prince hastened to him, and in a few minutes the duke was seen following the prince into his private chamber. The sun of Calderon’s favour seemed set. So thought the courtiers: not so the haughty favourite. There was even a smile of triumph on his lip—a sanguine flush upon his pale cheek, as he turned unheeding from the throng, and then entering his carriage, regained his home.
He had scarcely re-entered his cabinet, ere, faithful to his appointment, Fonseca was announced.