As it all came to him, Johnnie shuddered for a moment. His nerves were tense, his imagination at work, it seemed difficult to breathe the same air as these two super-normal beings in the still, warm chamber.
From outside came the snarling of trumpets, the stir and noise of soldiery—here, warm silence, the scratching of a pen upon parchment, the echo of a voice which rolled like a kettle-drum....
Suddenly the King laid down his pen and rose to his feet, a tall, lean, sombre-faced man in black and gold. He spoke a few words to Father Diego Deza and then went up to the Queen in the window.
The monk went on arranging papers in orderly bundles, and tying some of them with cords of green silk, which he drew from a silver box.
John saw the Queen's face. It lit up and became almost beautiful for a second as Philip approached. Then as husband and wife conversed in low voices, the equerry saw yet another change come over Mary's twitching and expressive countenance. It hardened and froze, the thin lips tightened to a line of dull pink, the eyes grew bitter bright, the head nodded emphatically several times, as if in agreement at something the King was saying.
Then John felt some one touch his arm, and found that the Dominican had come to him noiselessly, and was smiling into his face with a flash of white teeth and steady, watchful eyes.
He started violently and turned his head from the Royal couple in some confusion. He felt as though he had been detected in some breach of manners, of espionage almost.
"Buenos dias, señor, como anda usted?" Don Diego asked in a low voice.
"Thank you, I am very well," Johnnie answered in Spanish.
"Como está su padre?"