the King asked the Queen.
"Oh, yes."
He cleared his throat. "And which artists did your father prefer?" Over my shoulder I saw the Queen look at madame de Clermont. "Clouet," madame whispered to the Queen.
"Clouet," the Queen said.
A silence ensued in which I was painfully aware of the scuffling noise I made in gathering Up my sketches. If this was how they conversed in the bedchamber, no wonder there was so little tumbling done in bosoms.
"Oh!" The Queen brightened. "And Leonardo da Vinci. Grandfather had him stay in one of our manors. Monsieur Leonardo died there, in fact. He left behind a curious picture of a lady with a mysterious smile on her face. You cannot tell what she is thinking, yet her eyes follow you everywhere. It is most eerie."
I looked Up--she was speaking of La Gioconda , the portrait I had championed to Michelangelo. Her family had that painting in their possession? Oh, to be a queen!
"I see." The King cleared his throat. "Well. Has your father any Flemish work?"
"Flemish, My Lord?"
"My grandfather was Flemish. Philippe the Handsome--I am named after him. 'Felipe' is 'Philippe' in the Castilian tongue." He stopped, frowning.
I groaned inwardly as Her Majesty blinked at her husband. Flatter him, My Lady. Tell him he was well named, that he is Felipe the Handsome, too. Do not let this opportunity to ingratiate yourself to him get away.
Her Majesty's German clock ticked and whirred on the table. At last the King said, "I rather like the work of a man named El Bosco. A Fleming. Bosch, he is called in his own country. Hieronymus Bosch."
"Oh!" said the Queen.
Madame de Clermont smiled broadly at the King, as if her mistress had just explained the Mystery of Life.
I held my breath, my arms full of sketches. In a voice both desperate and hopeful, the Queen asked, "Does he draw dogs?"
"Dogs?" the King said.
"I like dogs," she said, her voice small. She picked Up her spaniel, who had been nibbling at its rear leg.
The King stroked his pointed beard. "Well . . . I do believe there are two dogs in the piece by El Bosco I have just acquired. It is a tabletop painting."
"Two dogs!" The Queen's voice was full of gratitude. "Are they adorable, My Lord?"
"Well, I do not know about that. They are acting out the Flemish proverb 'Two dogs with one bone seldom reach agreement.' The painting is of the Seven Deadly Sins."
"Envy," the condesa said, as if explaining to an infant. "There are two dogs fighting over one bone, representing envy."
The King frowned at the condesa before turning back to the Queen. "So you like dogs, My Lady?"
"Yes!" exclaimed the Queen, visibly cheered by the King's defense. "Very much. I like animals of all kinds."
"Then perhaps you wold enjoy the collection I have put together in my animal house in Madrid. Among various other beasts, I have an elephant, an ostrich, and some camels, and I just received a rhinoceros."
"A rhinoceros! I should love to see it. My mother has an animal house in Paris, but we have no rhinoceros. Does it not have a great wicked horn?"
"Indeed." A smile nudged at the corners of his mouth. "The wickedest." He adjusted the clock's position on the table, then regarded her thoughtfully. "What amazes me is that from one Heavenly Hand comes the rhinoceros, the snake, and the ostrich. Such diversity, but to what purpose?"
"I had not thought Upon that," said the Queen.
"I often wonder," said the King. "Why did He create thousands of creatures instead of twenty? Why did He think we needed them all?"
My Lady gazed at him, her admiration real. "You are wise to ponder it, My Lord."
His Majesty glanced away quickly, his hand straying to his chin.
"Dona Sofonisba," he said gruffly. "Are we not going to see your drawings?"
With a jolt, I stepped forward, then, curtseying, offered the King the sheets of paper. He began to turn through them, revealing my portrayal of Her Majesty looking out the window, of her sleeping, of her reading her Book of Hours.
"These are
"Oh, yes."
He cleared his throat. "And which artists did your father prefer?" Over my shoulder I saw the Queen look at madame de Clermont. "Clouet," madame whispered to the Queen.
"Clouet," the Queen said.
A silence ensued in which I was painfully aware of the scuffling noise I made in gathering Up my sketches. If this was how they conversed in the bedchamber, no wonder there was so little tumbling done in bosoms.
"Oh!" The Queen brightened. "And Leonardo da Vinci. Grandfather had him stay in one of our manors. Monsieur Leonardo died there, in fact. He left behind a curious picture of a lady with a mysterious smile on her face. You cannot tell what she is thinking, yet her eyes follow you everywhere. It is most eerie."
I looked Up--she was speaking of La Gioconda , the portrait I had championed to Michelangelo. Her family had that painting in their possession? Oh, to be a queen!
"I see." The King cleared his throat. "Well. Has your father any Flemish work?"
"Flemish, My Lord?"
"My grandfather was Flemish. Philippe the Handsome--I am named after him. 'Felipe' is 'Philippe' in the Castilian tongue." He stopped, frowning.
I groaned inwardly as Her Majesty blinked at her husband. Flatter him, My Lady. Tell him he was well named, that he is Felipe the Handsome, too. Do not let this opportunity to ingratiate yourself to him get away.
Her Majesty's German clock ticked and whirred on the table. At last the King said, "I rather like the work of a man named El Bosco. A Fleming. Bosch, he is called in his own country. Hieronymus Bosch."
"Oh!" said the Queen.
Madame de Clermont smiled broadly at the King, as if her mistress had just explained the Mystery of Life.
I held my breath, my arms full of sketches. In a voice both desperate and hopeful, the Queen asked, "Does he draw dogs?"
"Dogs?" the King said.
"I like dogs," she said, her voice small. She picked Up her spaniel, who had been nibbling at its rear leg.
The King stroked his pointed beard. "Well . . . I do believe there are two dogs in the piece by El Bosco I have just acquired. It is a tabletop painting."
"Two dogs!" The Queen's voice was full of gratitude. "Are they adorable, My Lord?"
"Well, I do not know about that. They are acting out the Flemish proverb 'Two dogs with one bone seldom reach agreement.' The painting is of the Seven Deadly Sins."
"Envy," the condesa said, as if explaining to an infant. "There are two dogs fighting over one bone, representing envy."
The King frowned at the condesa before turning back to the Queen. "So you like dogs, My Lady?"
"Yes!" exclaimed the Queen, visibly cheered by the King's defense. "Very much. I like animals of all kinds."
"Then perhaps you wold enjoy the collection I have put together in my animal house in Madrid. Among various other beasts, I have an elephant, an ostrich, and some camels, and I just received a rhinoceros."
"A rhinoceros! I should love to see it. My mother has an animal house in Paris, but we have no rhinoceros. Does it not have a great wicked horn?"
"Indeed." A smile nudged at the corners of his mouth. "The wickedest." He adjusted the clock's position on the table, then regarded her thoughtfully. "What amazes me is that from one Heavenly Hand comes the rhinoceros, the snake, and the ostrich. Such diversity, but to what purpose?"
"I had not thought Upon that," said the Queen.
"I often wonder," said the King. "Why did He create thousands of creatures instead of twenty? Why did He think we needed them all?"
My Lady gazed at him, her admiration real. "You are wise to ponder it, My Lord."
His Majesty glanced away quickly, his hand straying to his chin.
"Dona Sofonisba," he said gruffly. "Are we not going to see your drawings?"
With a jolt, I stepped forward, then, curtseying, offered the King the sheets of paper. He began to turn through them, revealing my portrayal of Her Majesty looking out the window, of her sleeping, of her reading her Book of Hours.
"These are
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