The effect of this interposition was immediate; for the assistants stood motionless, and Calavarez began to think that to kill a bishop without a special order from the king might expose him to great peril in this world, to say nothing of the next.
“I will go to his majesty,” said he.
“Go to the devil!” replied the bishop, still standing on the defensive.
The executioner did not know what to do. Did he go to announce this news to Philip, who was expecting the head of the traitor, he only exposed himself to the consequences of his fury. The odds were not enough in his favor to make him certain of the result of an attempt at force, for the strength of Ruy Lopez was by no means to be despised—and as to the duke, desperation would only add to his well-known prowess.
He ended by adopting what appeared to him the wisest decision: he would wait.
“Will you pledge your word to close the game in half an hour?” he demanded.
“I pledge you my honor,” replied the duke.
“Agreed, then,” said the executioner. “Play away.”
The truce thus concluded, the players resumed their places and their game.
Calavarez, who was also a chess-player, became, in spite of himself, interested in the moves, and the attendants, keeping their eyes upon the duke, seemed to say—“You and the game must end together!”