The Prince felt more unwilling to compromise his personal dignity by countenancing the flagitious proceedings and the contemptible supremacy of Armenteros, and it was soon very obvious, therefore, that Egmont was a greater favorite at court than Orange.  At the same time the Count was also diligently cultivating the good graces of the middle and lower classes in Brussels, shooting with the burghers at the popinjay, calling every man by his name, and assisting at jovial banquets in town-house or guild-hall.  The Prince, although at times a necessary partaker also in these popular amusements, could find small cause for rejoicing in the aspect of affairs.  When his business led him to the palace, he was sometimes forced to wait in the ante-chamber for an hour, while Secretary Armenteros was engaged in private consultation with Margaret upon the most important matters of administration.  It could not be otherwise than galling to the pride and offensive to the patriotism of the Prince, to find great public transactions entrusted to such hands.  Thomas de Armenteros was a mere private secretary—­a simple clerk.  He had no right to have cognizance of important affairs, which could only come before his Majesty’s sworn advisers.  He was moreover an infamous peculator.  He was rolling up a fortune with great rapidity by his shameless traffic in benefices, charges, offices, whether of church or state.  His name of Armenteros was popularly converted into Argenteros, in order to symbolize the man who was made of public money.  His confidential intimacy with the Duchess procured for him also the name of “Madam’s barber,” in allusion to the famous ornaments of Margaret’s upper lip, and to the celebrated influence enjoyed by the barbers of the Duke of Savoy, and of Louis the Eleventh.  This man sold dignities and places of high responsibility at public auction.  The Regent not only connived at these proceedings, which would have been base enough, but she was full partner in the disgraceful commerce.  Through the agency of the Secretary, she, too, was amassing a large private fortune.  “The Duchess has gone into the business of vending places to the highest bidders,” said Morillon, “with the bit between her teeth.”  The spectacle presented at the council-board was often sufficiently repulsive not only to the cardinalists, who were treated with elaborate insolence, but to all men who loved honor and justice, or who felt an interest in the prosperity of government.  There was nothing majestic in the appearance of the Duchess, as she sat conversing apart with Armenteros, whispering, pinching, giggling, or disputing, while important affairs of state were debated, concerning which the Secretary had no right to be informed.  It was inevitable that Orange should be offended to the utmost by such proceedings, although he was himself treated with comparative respect.  As for the ancient adherents of Granvelle, the Bordeys, Baves, and Morillons, they were forbidden by the favorite