e body which is already bleeding from a
thousand wounds. If, nevertheless, I did it, I should 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 dreade