“So far as politics and the table give him leisure for it,” interposed the Frieslander.  “He doesn’t seem inclined to make his penance too severe.  Quijada is now preparing the penitential cell, and it is neither in the burning Thebais nor in the arid sands of the desert, but in one of the most delightful and charming places in Spain.  May our sovereign find there what he seeks!  You are aware of the paternal joys which await him through the boy Geronimo?”

“Where did you learn that?” Granvelle interrupted in a startled tone, and Barbara held her breath and listened with twofold attention.

“From his Majesty himself,” was the reply.  “He intended his son for the monastery.  He longs to see him again, because he is said to be developing magnificently; but he wished to know whether it would not be safer to remove him from the world before his arrival, for, if necessary, he could give up meeting him.  If he should discover his father’s identity, it might easily fill him with vanity, and in Villagarcia he was learning to prize knightly achievements above the service of the Most High.  It would not do to leave him in the world; unpleasant things might come from it.  As King Philip’s sole heir was the sickly Don Carlos——­”

“His son Geronimo might aspire to the crown,” interrupted Granvelle.  “He expressed the same doubts to me also.  What I heard of the child induced me to plead that he might be allowed to grow up in the world untrammelled.  If any one understands how to defend himself against unauthorized demands, it is Don Philip.”

“So I, too, think, and advised,” replied Viglius.  “Poor boy!  His father of late holds on to thalers more than anxiously and, if I am correctly informed, the education of his son has hitherto cost his Majesty no more expense than the maintenance of the mother.  Wise economy, your Eminence!  Or what shall it be called?”

“As you choose,” replied the bishop in an irritated tone.  “What do you know about the boy’s mother?”

“Nothing,” replied the Frieslander, “except what my friend Mathys told me lately.  He said that before she lost her voice she was a perfect nightingale.  She might recover it at Ems, and so the leech proposed to the Emperor to give her a sum of money for this purpose.”

“And his Majesty?” asked Granvelle.

“Remained faithful to his habit of not sullying his reputation by extravagance,” replied the Frieslander, laughing.

“Suffering, misfortune!” sighed Granvelle.  “As a long period of rain produces fungi in the woods, so this terrible pair calls to life one pettiness after another in the rare man in whom once every trait of character was great and glorious.  I knew the boy’s mother.  Many things might be said of her, among them good, nay, the best ones.  As to the boy, his Majesty informed Don Philip of his existence.  It was in Augsburg.  He does not seem at all suited for the monastic life, and therefore I shall continue to strive to preserve him from it.”