perpetual moans, or the rude oaths of my Walloons!"

An incredulous smile played on the handsome features of the
Italian.--

"Have out your laugh!" cried Don John. "You had not thought to see
the lion of Lepanto converted into so mere a lap-dog!--Is it not so?"

"As little so as I can admit without the disrespect of denial to your
highness,"--replied Gonzaga, with a low obeisance. "My smile was
occasioned by wonder that one so little skilled in feigning as the
royal lion of Lepanto, should even hazard the attempt. There, at
least--and there alone--is Don John of Austria certain of defeat!"

"I might, perhaps, waste more time in persuading you that the air of
Flanders hath not taught me lying as well as compassion," replied the
Infant; "but that yonder green mound is our first redoubt. The lines
of Bouge are before you."

Professional discussion now usurped the place of friendly
intercourse. On the arrival of the prince, the drums of headquarters
beat to arms; and a moment afterwards, Don John was surrounded by his
officers; exhibiting, in the issuing of his orders of the day, the
able promptitude of one of the first commanders of his time, tempered
by the dignified courtesy of a prince of the blood.

Even Ottavio Gonzaga was too much engrossed by the tactical debates
carrying on around him, to have further thought of the mysteries into
which he was resolved to penetrate.