cion of
wishing to be first at the trencher."

He motioned toward the threshold as he uttered the words, but Charles,
who often had a ready answer for the baron's jests, followed his sister
in silence with a clouded brow.

Leaning on her arm and the crutch which Quijada had mutely presented to
him, Charles cautiously descended the stairs. He had indignantly rejected
the leech's proposal to use a litter in the house also, if the gout
tortured him.

CHAPTER XI.

Majesty, whose nature demands that people should look up to it, shuns the
downward glance of compassion. Yet during this walk the Emperor Charles,
even at the risk of presenting a pitiable spectacle, would gladly have
availed himself of the litter.

He, who had cherished the proud feeling of uniting in himself, his own
imperial power, the temporal and ecclesiastical sovereignty over all
Christendom, would now willingly have changed places with the bronzed,
sinewy halberdiers who were presenting arms to him along the sides of the
staircase. Yet he waved back Luis Quijada with an angry glance and the
sharp query, "Who summoned you?" when, in an attitude of humble entreaty,
he ventured to offer him the support of his strong arm. Still, pain.
compelled him to pause at every third step, and ever and anon to lean
upon the strong hip of his royal sister.

Queen Mary gladly rendered him the service, and, as she gazed into his
face, wan with anxiety and suffering, and thought of the beautiful
surprise which she had in store, she waved back, unnoticed by her royal
brother, the pages and courtiers who were following close behind. Then
looking up at him, she murmured:

"How you must suffer, Carlos! But happiness will surely follow the
martyrdom. Only a few steps, a few minutes more, and you will again look
life in the face with joyous courage. You will not believe it? Yet it is
true. I would even be inclined to wager my own salvation upon it."

The Emperor shook his head dejectedly, and answered bitterly:

"Such things should not be trifled with; besides, you would lose your
wager. Joyous courage, Querida, was buried long ago, and too many cares
insure its having no resurrection. The good gifts which Heaven formerly
permitted me to enjoy have lost their zest; instead of bread, it now
gives me stones. The best enjoyment it still grants me--I am honest and
not ungrateful in saying so--is a well-prepared meal. Laugh, if you
choose! If moralists and philosophers