destroy the most productive fountain of the King’s wealth.  It is not a man who can fight and command an army and a navy that is needed here, but a woman who understands how to mediate and to heal.  The King sent me to this country not to gather fresh laurels, but to be shipwrecked, and with bleeding brow return defeated.  Oh, I see through him!  But I also know—­Heaven be praised!—­ what I owe to myself, my father’s son.  If the States-General permit me to take the troops away by sea, I will gain the woman and the crown that are beckoning to me in another country, and his Majesty may send a more pliant regent of either sex to the provinces to continue the battle with William of Orange, who fights with weapons which my straightforward nature and firm sword ill understand how to meet.  This sheet places the decision before me.  Real, genuine glory, the fairest of wives, and a proud crown—­or defeat and ruin.”

The close of this outpouring of the young hero’s heart sounded like a manly, irrevocable resolution; but his mother laid her hand upon his arm, and said quietly, “I will go.”

A sunny glance of gratitude from her son rested upon her; she, however, only bent her head slightly and went on as calmly as if she had found the strength to be content, but with warm affection: 

“My first sacrifice was vain.  May the second not only aid you to gain the splendour of a crown, but, above all, instil into your soul the satisfaction with that longed-for highest happiness which your mother’s heart desires for you!”

Then Don John obeyed the mighty impulse of his soul to pour forth to his mother the gratitude and love which her unselfish retirement wrung from him.  His arms clasped her closely and tenderly, and never had he rewarded even his foster-mother in Villagarcia for her love and faithfulness with a more affectionate kiss.

“My gratitude will die only with myself,” he cried as he released her.  “Blessed be the day on which I found my own mother!  It led you, dear lady, not only to your John, but to his love.”

Escovedo, moved to the depths of his heart, had listened in surprise to this outburst of feeling from the famous son of the Emperor, whom he loved, to whom he had devoted his fine intellect and wealth of experience, and for whom it was appointed that he should die.

Thus ended Don John’s meeting with his mother, which he had dreaded as an inevitable evil.  Alba, who described her as an extremely obstinate woman, had advised him to use a stratagem to induce her to yield to his wish and leave the Netherlands.  He was to represent that his sister, the Duchess Margaret, who was holding her court at Aquila, in the Abruzzi Mountains, invited her to visit her in order to make her acquaintance.  She would not resist this summons, for she had often made her way to the government building, and took special pleasure in the society of the aristocratic Spaniards.  When she was once on board a ship, she would be obliged to submit to being carried to Spain, whence her return could easily be prevented.