With all his fevered dreams of greatness, Don John has ever been, will ever be, loyal to his King.""If you know anything of temptation," he answered me, "you should know that there is a breaking-point to every man's resistance of it. How long will Don John remain loyal while Escovedo feeds his disloyalty, adds daily to the weight of temptation the burden of a fresh ambition? I tell you, man, I feel safe no longer." He rose up before me, a blotch on his sallow face, his fingers tugging nervously at the tuft of straw-coloured beard. "I tell you some blow is about to fall unless we avert it. This man this fellow Escovedo - must be dispatched before he can kill us."I shrugged and affected carelessness to soothe him.
"A contemptible dreamer," I said. "Pity him, Sire. He has his uses.
To remove him would be to remove a channel through which we can always obtain knowledge precisely of what is doing."Again I prevailed, and there the matter hung a while. But the King was right, his fears were well inspired. Escovedo, always impatient, was becoming desperate under persistent frustration. I reasoned with him - was he not still my friend? - I held him off, urged prudence and patience upon him, and generally sought to temporize.
I was as intent upon saving him from leaving his skin in this business as I was, on the other hand, intent upon doing my duty without pause or scruple to my King. But the fool forced my hand.
A Court is a foul place always, even so attenuated a Court as that which Philip of Spain encouraged. Rumour thrives in it, scandal blossoms luxuriantly in its fetid atmosphere. And rumour and scandal had been busy with the Princess of Eboli and me, though Idid not dream it.
We had been indiscreet, no doubt. We had been seen together in public too often. We had gone to the play together more than once;she had been present with me at a bull-fight on one occasion, and it was matter of common gossip, as I was to learn, that I was a too frequent visitor at her house.
Another visitor there was Escovedo when in Madrid. Have I not said that in his early days he had been one of Eboli's secretaries? On that account the house of Eboli remained open to him at all times.
The Princess liked him, was kindly disposed towards him, and encouraged his visits. We met there more than once. One day we left together, and that day the fool set spark to a train that led straight to the mine on which, all unconsciously, he stood.
"A word of advice in season, Don Antonio," he said as we stepped forth together. "Do not go so often to visit the Princess."I sought to pull my arm from his, but he dung to it and pinned it to his side.
"Nay, now - nay, now!" he soothed me. "Not so hot, my friend.
What the devil have I said to provoke resentment? I advise you as your friend.""In future advise that other friend of yours, the devil," I answered angrily, and pulled my arm away at last. "Don Juan, you have presumed, I think. I did not seek your advice. It is yourself that stands in need of advice this moment more than any man in Spain.""Lord of the World," he exclaimed in amiable protest, "listen to him! I speak because I owe friendship to the Princess. Men whisper of your comings and goings, I tell you. And the King, you know well, should he hear of this I am in danger of losing my only friend at Court, and so - ""Another word of this," I broke in fiercely, "now or at any other time, and I'll skewer you like a rabbit!"I had stopped. My face was thrust within a hand's-breadth of his own; I had tossed back my cloak, and my fingers clutched the hilt of my sword. He became grave. His fine eyes - he had great, sombre, liquid eyes, such as you'll scarcely ever see outside of Spain - considered me thoughtfully a moment. Then he laughed lightly and fell back a pace.
"Pish!" said he. "Saint James! I am no rabbit for your skewering.
If it comes to skewers, I am a useful man of my hands, Antonio.
Come, man" - and again he took my arm - "if I presume, forgive it out of the assurance that I am moved solely by interest and concern for you. We have been friends too long that I should be denied."I had grown cool again, and I realized that perhaps my show of anger had been imprudent. So I relented now, and we went our ways together without further show of ill-humour on my part, or further advice on his. But the matter did not end there. Indeed, it but began. Going early in the afternoon of the morrow to visit Anne, Ifound her in tears - tears, as I was to discover, of anger.
Escovedo had been to visit her before me, and he had dared to reproach her on the same subject.
"You are talked about, you and Perez," he had informed her, "and the thing may have evil consequences. It is because I have eaten our bread that I tell you this for your own good."She had risen up in a great passion.
"You will leave my house, and never set foot in it again," she had told him. "You should learn that grooms and lackeys have no concern in the conduct of great ladies. It is because you have eaten my bread that I tell you this for your own good."It drove him out incontinently, but it left her in the condition in which I was later to discover her. I set myself to soothe her. Iswore that Escovedo should be punished. But she would not be soothed. She blamed herself for an unpardonable rashness. She should not have taken that tone with Escovedo. He could avenge himself by telling Philip, and if he told Philip, and Philip believed him - as Philip would, being jealous and mistrustful beyond all men - my ruin must follow. She had thought only of herself in dismissing him in that high-handed manner. Coming since to think of me it was that she had fallen into this despair. She clung to me in tears.
"Forgive me, Antonio. The fault is all mine - the fault of all.
Always have I known that this danger must overhang you as a penalty for loving me. Always I knew it, and, knowing it, I should have been stronger. I should have sent you from me at the first. But Iwas so starved of love from childhood till I met you. I hungered so for love - for your love, Antonio - that I had not the strength.
