She was a born diplomat.  She recognized the power of the Church and knew that to win one must go with the current, not against it.  To have doubts, when the Church is willing to bear the whole burden, she thought very foolish.  Had she been a man she would have been a leader among the Jesuits.  The folly of opposition had been shown her most vividly in her husband’s career.  What could he not have been had he been wise and patient and ta’en the tide at its flood!  And this was the spirit that she inculcated in the minds of her children.

Little Peter Paul was a handsome lad—­handsome as his father—­with big, dark brown eyes and clustering curls.  He was bright, intelligent, and blessed with a cheerful, obliging disposition.  He came into the world a welcome child, carrying the beauty of the morning in his face, and form, and spirit.

No wonder is it that the Countess de Lalaing desired the boy for a page as soon as she saw him.  His mother embraced the opportunity to let her favorite child see court life, and so at the early age of twelve, at a plunge, he began that career in polite diplomacy that was to continue for half a century.

The Countess called herself his “other mother,” and lavished upon him all the attention that a childless woman had to bestow.  The mornings were sacred to his lessons, which were looked after by a Jesuit priest; and in the afternoon, another priest came to give the ladies lessons in the languages, and at these circles young Peter Paul was always present as one of the class.

Indeed, the earliest accomplishment of Peter Paul was his polyglot ability.  When he arrived at Antwerp, a mere child, he spoke German, Flemish and French.

Such a favorite did little Peter Paul become with his “other mother,” and her ladies of the court, that his sure-enough mother grew a bit jealous, and feared they would make a hothouse plant of her boy, and so she took him away.

The question was, for what profession should he be educated?  That he should serve the Church and State was already a settled fact in the mother’s mind:  to get on in the world you must cultivate and wisely serve those who are in power—­that is, those who have power to bestow.  Priests were plentiful as blackberries, and politicians were on every corner, and many of the priests and officeseekers had no special talent to recommend them.  They were simply timeservers.  Maria knew this:  To get on you must have several talents, otherwise people will tire of you.

In Cologne, Maria Rubens had met returned pilgrims from Rome and they had told her of that trinity of giants, Michelangelo, Raphael and Leonardo; and how these men had been the peers of prince and pope, because they had the ability to execute marvelous works of beauty.

This extraordinary talent called attention to themselves, so they were summoned out of the crowd and became the companions and friends of the greatest names of their time.