“Look at this beautiful lady, the most beautiful in Spain,” he bade them. “A prince could not have a lovelier bride.”
“But she is dressed as a nun,” the woman protested. “How, then, can she marry?”
“For kings there are no laws,” he told her with finality.
At last he departed, but bidding Gregorio to think of the offer he had made him. He would come again for the cook’s reply, leaving word meanwhile of where he was lodged.
They deemed him mad, and were disposed to be derisive. Yet the woman’s disbelief was quickened into malevolence by the jealous fear that what he had told them of himself might, after all, be true. Upon that malevolence she acted forthwith, lodging an information with Don Rodrigo de Santillan, the Alcalde of Valladolid.
Very late that night Espinosa was roused from his sleep to find his room invaded by alguaziles—the police of the Alcalde. He was arrested and dragged before Don Rodrigo to give an account of himself and of certain objects of value found in his possession—more particularly of a ring, on the cameo of which was carved a portrait of King Philip.
“I am Gabriel de Espinosa,” he answered firmly, “a pastry-cook of Madrigal.”
“Then how come you by these jewels?”
“They were given me by Dona Ana of Austria to sell for her account. That is the business that has brought me to Valladolid.”
“Is this Dona Ana’s portrait?”