antly rejected the belief that he had
reason to look back upon his past life with gratitude and pleasure.

It was incomprehensible and, carried away by the violent agitation which
seized upon her, she described with fiery vivacity how the conviction
that he had gained everything which her hard sacrifice and her prayers
had sought, had beautified her life and helped her to bear even the most
painful trials with quiet submission, nay, with joyous gratitude.

Stimulated by the power of the extraordinary things which she had
experienced, she described in a ceaseless flow of vivid words how she had
torn her child from her soul in order to place it in the path which was
to lead to fame, splendour, and honour--in short, to everything that
adorns and lends value to life.

"And why, in the name of all the saints," she concluded, "why must I now
tell myself that I endured this great suffering in vain, and that what
filled my heart with joy was only an idle delusion? Yet I watched your
steps as the hunter follows the trail of the game. I saw how every fresh
onset led you to greater splendour, higher renown, and more exalted
grandeur."

His cheeks, too, had now flushed. What life was still pulsing in the
veins of this woman, already past her youth! with what impressive power
she understood how to describe what moved her! Yet how mistaken was the
view to which maternal love and the desire of her heart had led her
artist nature! She had seen only the light, not the shadow, the darkness,
the gloom, which had clouded his course of fame.

To secure splendour and grandeur for him, she had yielded to the most
cruel demand, and what had been the result of this sacrifice? What had
she gained by it?

How had the happiness in which she fancied she saw him revelling been
constituted?

The power of the newly awakened experiences bore him away also, and he
described no less vividly what he had suffered.

Yes, indeed! He had not lacked great successes, far-reaching renown, high
honours, and some degree of glory. But what a tale he--not yet
thirty--now related! He, the son of an Emperor, the brother of a powerful
King, who was adorned by as many crowns as there were fingers on his
hand!

He had been King Philip's servant and useful commander in chief, nothing
more.

And now he described the sovereign's cold nature, unfeeling calculation,
and offensive suspicion. He, Don John, the not all unworthy son of the
great Emperor Charles, was