see that
the dish should still be made. Then, as if to show his sister how little
he cared for her opposition, he seized the crystal jug with his own hand,
without waiting for the cup-bearer behind him, filled the goblet with
fiery Xeres wine, and hurriedly drained it, though the leech had
forbidden him, while suffering from the gout, to do more than moisten his
lips with the heating liquor.

The eyes of the royal huntress, though she was by no means unduly
soft-hearted, grew dim with tears. This was her brother's gratitude for
the faithful care which she bestowed upon him! Who could tell whether her
surprise, instead of pleasing him, might not rouse his anger? He was
still frowning as though the greatest injury had been inflicted upon him,
and his sister's tearful eyes led him to exclaim wrathfully, as if he
wished to palliate his unchivalrous indignation to a lady:

"I am deprived of one pleasure after another, and the little enjoyment
remaining is lessened wherever it can be. Who has heavier loads of
anxiety to endure?--yet you spoil my recreation during the brief hours
when I succeed in casting off the burden."

Here he paused and obstinately grasped the golden handle of the pitcher
again. The Queen remained silent. Contradiction would have made the
obdurate sovereign empty another goblet also. Even a look of entreaty
would have been out of place on this occasion. So she fixed her eyes
mutely and sadly upon her silver plate; but even her silence irritated
the Emperor, and he was about to give fresh expression to his ill-humour,
when the doors of the chapel opposite to him opened, and the surprise
began.

The signal for the commencement of the singing had been the delivery of
the first dish from the steward to one of the great nobles, who presented
it to their Majesties.

The Queen's face brightened, and tears of heartfelt joy, instead of grief
and disappointment, now moistened her eyes, for if ever a surprise had
accomplished the purpose desired it was this one.

Charles was gazing, as if the gates of Paradise had opened before him,
toward the chapel doors, whence Maestro Gombert's Benedictio Mensae, a
melody entirely new to him, was pouring like a holy benediction, devout
yet cheering, sometimes solemn, anon full of joy.

The lines of anxiety vanished from his brow as if at the spell of a
magician. The dull eyes gained a brilliant, reverent light, the bent
figure straightened itself. He seemed to his siste