ghts!" boldly interrupted the fiery D'Ossuna; "and
we claim from the King our cousin's privileges."

This demand acted as a signal.

"Our rights and the King's justice are inseparable," cried Don Diego de
Tarraxas, Count of Valence, an old man of gigantic stature, clothed in
armour, holding in his hands the baton of Great Constable of Spain, and
leaning upon his long Toledo blade.

"Our rights and our privileges!" cried the nobles, repeating the words
like an echo. Their audacity made the King start with fury from his
ebony throne.

"By the bones of Campeador!" he cried. "By the soul of St. Jago! I have
sworn neither to eat nor sleep until the bleeding head of Don Gusman
lies before me. As I have sworn, so shall it be. But Don Tarraxas has
said well, 'The King's justice confirms his subjects' rights.' My Lord
Constable, where does the nearest Bishop reside?"

"Sire, I have more to do with camp than with the Church," the Constable
replied, somewhat abruptly. "Your Majesty's chaplain, Don Silvas, is
present: he can tell you better than I."

Don Silvas began to speak in trepidation.

[Illustration: "WHAT DOES THE TRAITOR DEMAND?"]

"Sire," he said, humbly, "the Bishop of Segovia is an official of the
King, but he who filled the duty died last week, and the parchment which
names his successor is still upon the Council table, and is yet to be
submitted to the Pope's seal."

At these words a joyous smile hovered about D'Ossuna's lips. This joy
was but natural, for the young man was of the blood of the Gusmans, and
his cousin, the condemned prisoner, was his dearest friend. The King
perceived the smile, and his eye shot forth lightning.

"We are the King!" he said, gravely, with the calm which presages a
storm; "our Royal person must be no butt for raillery. This sceptre
appears light, my lords, but he who ridicules it shall be crushed
thereby as with a block of iron. I believe that our holy father the Pope
is somewhat indebted to us, so that we do not fear his displeasure at
the step which we are about to take. Since the King of Spain can make a
Prince, he can also make a Bishop. Rise, then, Don Ruy Lopez. I create
you Bishop of Segovia. Rise, I command you, and take your rank in the
Church."

The courtiers stood dumfounded.

Don Ruy Lopez rose mechanically. His head was whirling, and he stammered
as he strove to speak.

"If your Majesty pleases----" he began.

"Silence, my Lord Bishop!" replied the King. "O