ne occupied the depths
of her soul--her John, his renown, grandeur, and honour.

Her son Conrad had no cause to complain of lack of affection from his
mother, but the victor of Lepanto was to her the all-animating sun, the
former only a friendly little star. Besides, she rarely saw him now, as
he was studying in Lowen.

As she had modelled her housekeeping after that of the Castilian nobles,
and her guests almost exclusively belonged to the royal party, she
also sought Spanish houses or those of the city magistrates who were
partisans of the King.

News of her son would be most fully supplied there, and many an officer
whom she met had served under her John, and willingly told the
mother what he admired and had learned from him. The young Duke of
Ferdinandina, a Spanish colonel, who had studied with John in Alcala,
and then fought by his side at the conquest of Tunis, stirred her heart
most deeply by his enthusiastic admiration for the comrade who was his
superior in every respect.

All the pictures of Don John, the young officer who had shared his tent
declared, gave a very faint idea of his wonderful beauty and bewitching
chivalrous grace. Not only women's hearts rushed to him; his frank,
lovable nature also won men. As a rider in the tournament, in games of
ball and quarter staff, he had no peer; for his magnificently formed
body was like steel, and he himself had seen Don John share in playing
racket for six hours in succession with the utmost eagerness, and then
show no more fatigue than a fish does in water. But he was also sure of
success where proof of intellect must be given. He did not understand
where Don John had found time to learn to speak French, German, and
Italian. Moreover, he was thoroughly the great noble. On the pilgrimage
which he made to Loretto he had distributed more than ten thousand
ducats among the poor. The piety and charity which distinguished him--he
had told him so himself--owed to the lady who reared him, the widow of
the never-to-be-forgotten Don Luis Quijada. His eye filled with tears
when he spoke of her. But even she, Barbara, could not love him more
tenderly or faithfully than this admirable woman. Up to the day she
insisted upon supplying his body linen. The finest linen spun and woven
in Villagarcia was used for the purpose, and the sewing was done by
her own skilful hands. Nothing of importance befel him that he did not
discuss with Tia in long letters.--["Tia," the Spanish w