already been fortunate enough to win the countenance of the duke, and
from that day my rise was rapid. Since then we have never met. Dare I
hope that it is now in the power of Calderon to prove himself not
ungrateful?"

"Yes," said Fonseca, eagerly; "it is in your power to save me from the
most absolute wretchedness that can befall me. It is in your power, at
least I think so, to render me the happiest of men!"

"Be seated, I pray you, senor. And how? I am your servant."

"Thou knowest," said Fonseca, "that, though the kinsman, I am not the
favourite, of the Duke of Lerma?"

"Nay, nay," interrupted Calderon, softly, and with a bland smile; "you
misunderstand my illustrious patron: he loves you, but not your
indiscretions."

"Yes, honesty is very indiscreet! I cannot stoop to the life of the
ante-chamber. I cannot, like the Duke of Lerma, detest my nearest
relative if his shadow cross the line of my interests. I am of the race
of Pelayo, not Oppas; and my profession, rather that of an ancient
Persian than a modern Spaniard, is to manage the steed, to wield the
sword, and to speak the truth."

There was an earnestness and gallantry in the young man's aspect, manner,
and voice, as he thus spoke, which afforded the strongest contrast to the
inscrutable brow and artificial softness of Calderon; and which, indeed,
for the moment, occasioned that crafty and profound adventurer an
involuntary feeling of self-humiliation.