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."

"And if his Majesty decides otherwise?"

"Then, of course--" answered Granvelle, shrugging his shoulders. "But
the draught must be composed, and there are more important matters for
us to discuss."

As he spoke he rang the bell on the table at his side, and Hannibal
obeyed his master's summons. In doing so he passed Barbara, who started
as if bewildered when she heard him approach.

He went up to her in great surprise, but ere he could utter the first
words she clutched his arm, whispering: "I am going, Hannibal. His
Eminence did not entirely forget me. If he can receive me, send word to
my house."

Scarcely able to control herself, Barbara set out on her way home.
The words she had heard had shaken the depths of her soul like an
earthquake.

The news that Charles intended to confine in a monastery the boy whom
she had given up to him that he might bestow upon him whatever lay
within his imperial power poisoned her joy in the future. How often this
man lead inflicted bleeding wounds upon her heart! Now he trampled it
under his cruel feet. Two convictions had lent her the strength not
to despair: she felt sure that his love for her could never have been
extinguished had the power of her art aided her to warm Charles's heart,
and she was still more positive that the father would raise to splendour
and