"Long live the King!" The courtiers answered the cheer, but moderately, as a matter of course, and without enthusiasm, repeating it three times.

But at the last time a single woman's voice, high and clear above all the rest, cried out other words.
"God save Don John of Austria! Long live Don John of Austria!" The whole multitude of men and women was stirred at once, for every heart was in the cheer, and in an instant, courtiers though they were, the King was forgotten, the time, the place, and the cry went up all at once, full, long and loud, shaming the one that had gone before it.
King Philip's hands strained at the arms of his great chair, and he half rose, as if to command silence; and Don John, suddenly pale, had half risen, too, stretching out his open hand in a gesture of deprecation, while the Queen watched him with timidly admiring eyes, and the dark Princess of Eboli's dusky lids drooped to hide her own, for she was watching him also, but with other thoughts.

For a few seconds longer, the cheers followed each other, and then they died away to a comparative silence.

The dwarf rocked himself, his head between his knees, at Don John's feet.
"God save the Fool!" he cried softly, mimicking the cheer, and he seemed to shake all over, as he sat huddled together, swinging himself to and fro.
But no one noticed what he said, for the King had risen to his feet as soon as there was silence.

He spoke in a muffled tone that made his words hard to understand, and those who knew him best saw that he was very angry.