Calderon's eyes were fixed musingly on the door which closed on Fonseca's
martial and noble form.

"Great contrasts among men!" said he, half aloud. "All the classes into
which naturalists ever divided the animal world contained not the variety
that exists between man and man. And yet, we all agree in one object of
our being--all prey on each other! Glory, which is but the thirst of
blood, makes yon soldier the tiger of his kind; other passions have made
me the serpent: both fierce, relentless, unscrupulous--both! hero and
courtier, valour and craft! Hein! I will serve this young man--he has
served me. When all other affection was torn from me, he, then a boy,
smiled on me and bade me love him. Why has he been so long forgotten?
He is not of the race that I abhor; no Moorish blood flows in his veins;
neither is he of the great and powerful, whom I dread; nor of the
crouching and the servile, whom I despise: he is one whom I can aid
without a blush."

While Calderon thus soliloquised, the arras was lifted aside, and a
cavalier, on whose cheek was the first down of manhood, entered the
apartment.

"So, Roderigo, alone! welcome back to Madrid. Nay, seat thyself,
man--seat thyself."

Calderon bowed with the deepest reverence; and, placing a large fauteuil
before the stranger, seated himself on stool, at a little distance.

The new comer was of sallow complexion; his gorgeous dress sparkled with
prodigal jewels. Boy as he was, there was a yet a careless loftiness, a
haughty ease, in the gesture--the bend of the neck, the wave of the hand,