r that, as the object of the greatest
Emperor's love and the mother of his son, she had so long felt that she
was reluctantly tolerated, and not really recognised in the circles which
should have been hers also. Moreover, the consciousness of exercising an
art over which she had once attained a mastery, yet never being able to
shake off the painful doubt whether the applause that greeted her
performance was genuine, spoiled many a pleasant hour.

Still, all these things had probably been only the tribute which she was
compelled to pay for the proud joy of being the mother of such a son.

Now she at last felt safe from these malicious little attacks. She had
gained a good social position; she was not only valued as a singer, but
always sought wherever the women of Ghent were earnestly pursuing music
and singing. The invitation to the Rassinghams flung wide the doors which
had formerly been closed against her, and she might be sure of not being
deemed the least important among the ladies of her party to whose hearts
the cause of King and Church was dear.

When she returned to Ghent, even if Don John had not been appointed
governor, she might even have ventured to make her house the rendezvous
of the heads of the royalist party.

But now that her son entered the Netherlands as the leader, the
representative of the sovereign, to reign in Philip's name, everything
she could wish was attained, and his father's "More, farther," had lost
all meaning for her.

She could meet her happy son as a happy mother; she said this to herself
with a long breath. These thoughts had animated her restless half slumber
during the nocturnal drive, and she still dwelt upon them all the
following day.

Toward evening they reached Luxemburg. At the gate, where every carriage
was stopped, the guards asked her name.

At the reply the inspector of taxes bowed profoundly, and signed to the
Spanish officer behind him.

He was waiting for her, by the command of the captain-general, who longed
to see her, and with the utmost courtesy undertook the office of guide.

Then the carriage rolled on again, and turned into the magnificent park
of a palace, which belonged to the royal governor, Prince Peter Ernst von
Mansfeld.

A gentleman dressed in black, whose bright eyes revealed an active mind,
while the expression of his well-formed features inspired confidence, Don
John's private secretary, Escovedo, of whose shrewdness and fidelity
Barbara had