Laughter rippled into silence. A hush descended upon the company,
which stood now at gaze, considering the imposing and unbidden
guest. Slowly the legate, followed by the two Roman youths,
advanced down the hall, the soft pad of his slippered feet and
the rustle of his silken robes being at first the only sound.
On he came, until he stood before the shallow dais, where in a
massively carved chair sat the Infante of Portugal, mistrustfully
observing him. Affonso Henriques scented here an enemy, an ally
of his mother's, the bearer of a fresh declaration of hostilities.
Therefore of deliberate purpose he kept his seat, as if to stress
the fact that here he was the master.

"Lord Cardinal," he greeted the legate, "be welcome to my land of
Portugal."

The cardinal bowed stiffly, resentful of this reception. In his
long journey across the Spains, princes and nobles had flocked to
kiss his hand, and bend the knee before him, seeking his
blessing. Yet this mere boy, beardless save for a silky down
about his firm young cheeks, retained his seat and greeted him
with no more submissiveness than if he had been the envoy of some
temporal prince.

"I am the representative of our Holy Father," he announced, in a
voice of stern reproof. "I am from Rome, with these my well-
beloved nephews."

"From Rome?" quoth Affonso Henriques. For all his length of limb
and massive thews he could be impish upon occasion. He was impish