DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA

CHAPTER I

Like a flock of frightened sparrows the children of LeganÉs arrived that afternoon at Ana de Medina's door, just as the bells were ringing for vespers. Ana's son JeromÍn was the first to get there, with his big blue eyes staring and his beautiful golden hair thrown back. But there was good cause for all this, and twenty shrill voices hastened to explain it to Ana, who, startled, came to the door distaff in hand, and a scolding on her lips.

There was no school in Getafe that afternoon; the sun had stricken down Sancha Apelza, the master's wife, while working on the farm of the Comunero, and she was to receive the last sacraments that night. The children from LeganÉs were coming back to the village, playing as usual by the way at Moors and Christians. JeromÍn always insisted on this, and never would play at Comuneros, or at being Padilla, Adelentado or Bishop AcuÑa, all recent and popular heroes. He said it was enough for him to be JeromÍn and to pretend to cut off the heads of Moors. He entrenched himself in the Canon's well as if it were a castle on a rock, and Pedro Verde defended the orchard of Maricuernos opposite, declaring it to be the Vega of Granada. JeromÍn gave the word "Santiago," and from both sides, like bullets from an arquebus, came lumps of soft earth. At this inopportune moment, while the battle was raging along the road from Madrid bordering the orchard of Maricuernos, four mules appeared, harnessed in pairs with long traces to what seemed to be a little wooden house, with two tiny windows and four big wheels. A man was riding the foremost mule on the off side, and another was seated on the roof of the house, guiding the mules with a long stick. Through one of the windows a very fat man with grey moustaches and a pointed beard, could be seen, sitting inside. Four well-armed horsemen and two baggage-mules escorted the unwieldy vehicle. The children were frightened at the sight of this extraordinary machine, such as they had never seen before, but curiosity overcame their fear and they all grouped themselves, very silent, in the orchard of Maricuernos to see it pass closer. The boys' terror increased when they realised that the heavy machine was halting in front of them, and the fat gentleman, putting his head out of window, was asking them very politely whether the Emperor's former guitar-player, Francis Massy, who had married Ana de Medina, a native of the village, still lived there.

The boys began to giggle and look at each other, not daring to answer, stir or even take off their caps as a mark of respect. The fat man repeated the question two or three times very politely and kindly, till at last Pedro Verde, who was eleven years old, and had been twice to Pinto, and had seen the cavalcade of Ruy GÓmez de Silva from afar, made up his mind to answer, his mouth dry with fear and keeping his cap on, that the musician Francisquin, as they called him, had died some years previously, but that his widow Ana de Medina still lived there and that her son JeromÍn, was one of those present. This Pedro demonstrated by seizing JeromÍn by the neck of his doublet and pulling him forward. For the fat man to hear this, look at JeromÍn and stretch his arms out of the window as if to seize him and drag him into the coach was only the work of a second. But it took the children, terrified at the old man's behaviour, even less time to scamper up the hill towards the village as if they had legions of devils at their heels. The gentleman called to them to stop. The escort also called out. But the children, spurred on by fright, ran harder and harder up the hill like hunted hares, until they stopped at the threshold of Ana de Medina where we met them.

The widow's face fell when she heard all this, and she drew JeromÍn towards her as if she wished to hide him in her woollen skirt. She asked the boys several questions, but they all answered together, and all she could make out was that a fat gentleman had wished to carry off JeromÍn in a little house on wheels.

Ana, worried, went back into her house and sent a message by Pedro Verde to ask the priest to come and see her, the cleric Bautista Vela, who served the parish for D. Alonso de Rojas, chaplain to His Majesty in the Royal Chapel at Granada at that time. Bautista Vela tarried too long; by the time he arrived at Ana's house he could no longer be there alone. Round the corner of the street came the whole population of the village, surrounding with wonder the vehicle in which the fat man came. He sat smiling, greeting some and of others asking the way to Ana's house, which a hundred hands pointed out to him, while he continued to look out of the window as if this house was the goal of his journey.

The hubbub made Ana come to her door, with JeromÍn clinging to her skirts. The coach, the like of which was never seen before, stopped in front of her; the gentleman greeted her politely, and the widow could not therefore do otherwise than offer him hospitality in a peasant's homely way.

The gentleman then got out, and Ana conducted him to her parlour, which was also her kitchen, clean certainly and with room for twenty people in the chimney corner on the rough stone seats placed on either side.

Invited by the widow, who seemed to be afraid to be alone with the stranger, Bautista Vela entered also, followed by JeromÍn, recovered from his fear, but still full of wonder and looking the visitor up and down as if he were the bearer of good or evil fortune. The fat man was about sixty, but his extraordinary corpulency neither destroyed the activity of his limbs nor the charm of his manners. He spoke with a soft, low, kindly voice with a marked Flemish accent, and not like the haughty man of war so common at that time. Everything in him betokened the obsequious courtier, accustomed to the yoke of powerful masters. Very courteously he told the widow who he was, the object of his visit, and what he hoped and wished from her. His name was Charles Prevost, a servant of the Emperor, who had come to Castille on his own business, but had also brought a special and secret message for her from Adrian du Bois, valet to the Emperor, and therefore his fellow-servant.

Here the courteous Fleming made a pause and, slightly raising his voice and accentuating his words, added that this business had been urgently recommended to him by the very high and mighty gentleman Luis MÉndez Quijada, Steward to the invincible CÆsar Charles V.

Hearing the name of CÆsar all bowed their heads in token of respect, and on hearing that of Quijada the cleric and the widow exchanged a rapid glance of fear and suspicion. JeromÍn, calmer than the rest, sat on a high stool, swinging his legs and never taking his eyes off the stranger, as if he were trying to decipher in that round red face some problem which he was turning over and over in his baby mind.

Charles Prevost pointed to the child as if its presence were an obstacle, so the widow took JeromÍn by the arm and shut him up in a room, telling him to wait there. Meanwhile Prevost had produced a paper carefully wrapped up in two covers of linen, which he held out to the widow folded in four. As she could not read, shrugging her shoulders she passed it in her turn to Bautista Vela, who, very much astonished, unfolded the letter and slowly and solemnly read as follows:

"I, Francis Massy, musician to His Majesty, and Ana de Medina, my wife, know and confess that we have taken and received a son of SeÑor Adrian de Bois, valet to His Majesty, which we did by his wish, and he prayed us to take and bring him up like our own son, and not to tell anyone whose son he was, as SeÑor Adrian did not wish that by this means his wife or anyone else should know or hear of him. For this reason I, Francis Massy, and Ana de Medina, my wife, and our son Diego de Medina, swear and promise to the said SeÑor Adrian not to tell or declare to any living person whose this child is, but to say that it is mine, until SeÑor Adrian sends someone with this letter or the said SeÑor Adrian comes in person.

"And because SeÑor Adrian wishes to keep the matter secret, he has begged me to do him the favour of taking charge of this child, which my wife and I willingly do and acknowledge to have received from the said SeÑor Adrian 100 crowns which he gave me for the journey, for taking the child, for a horse and clothes, and keep for one year that is to say that the year is counted from the 1st day of August of this present year 1550. For which I hold myself content and paid for this year, as it is the truth. I sign my name to it, I and my wife, but as she cannot write I begged Oger Bodarce to sign her name for her. And the said SeÑor Adrian shall give me 50 ducats each year for the keep of the child. Dated, Brussels, 13th of June, 1550."

A long silence followed the reading of this letter; and when Ana de Medina understood that the hour had arrived for giving up the child she had looked upon as her son, she burst into tears and between her sobs said that she perfectly recognised this document to be genuine from end to end. She had done as she had sworn, and would act in the same way in the future, and give up the child to whoever was sent to fetch him; but for God's sake and Our Lady's and a multitude of saints, let him stay until seed-time, so that there should be time to make him some new clothes and render him more presentable. Bautista Vela seemed also touched, and timidly added his entreaties to those of the widow.

But the Fleming, with roundabout reasonings and kindly, comforting words, showed all the same his absolute determination to leave the next day at daybreak, taking JeromÍn with him. Then, in a long talk and by clever questions, he let the widow and the priest know how very displeased the powerful Luis Quijada would be when he found the state of absolute mental neglect in which the boy had lived all these years, as he was healthy in body and appeared to be so also in mind; but it was clear that he knew nothing except how to run about the country shooting at birds with his crossbow and arrows, nor had he had other lessons than those of the sacristan Francis Fernandez, and those just lately in the school in Getafe. The blame for this fell on Bautista Vela, because he had written from time to time to Luis Quijada that he was seeing that the boy's education was cared for and that it was not that of a little peasant.

At this the priest and the widow were silent, knowing they were in the wrong, the more so as more than once the idea had occurred to them that JeromÍn was not the son of Adrian de Bois, from whose hands they had received the child, but of Luis Quijada, Steward to CÆsar and one of his greatest lords. And their idea, which no doubt Prevost also shared, was confirmed when the supper-hour arrived and he ordered that the table should be set with the silver and service he had brought in his baggage, and, seating JeromÍn in the place of honour, himself served the meal and waited.

JeromÍn let himself be waited on without showing any diffidence or surprise, as if all his life he had been used to such attentions. But when he saw Ana de Medina remaining by the fire and helping to pass the plates, without daring to come to the table, he said, without looking at anyone, in a tone which might be a question, or a request or an order, "Isn't she going to have any supper?" This made the widow burst again into sobs and lamentations, and the boy bit his lips to restrain the tears which filled his eyes. We cannot be certain whether JeromÍn slept that night or not, but it is certain that no one had to rouse him the next morning, and the first light of dawn found him already awake, dressed in his best clothes, with his fair hair covered by the picturesque "monterilla." He twice kissed Ana de Medina at the door, and then turned back and kissed her a third and fourth time. But he did not shed a tear or say a word, nor did his face change, though it was paler than usual.

The whole village was at the door, the children in the front row, Christians and Moors all mixed up, filled with awe and envy at seeing him in the seat of honour in the little house on wheels which had frightened them so much the day before.

Then JeromÍn asked the widow for his crossbow, so she brought the roughly made plaything with which he had acquired such wonderful dexterity, and he gave it to his enemy of the battles, Pedro Verde, saying shortly, "Keep it."

All the neighbours accompanied the coach to the outskirts of the village, and the children much farther, also Ana de Medina, crying out and begging that they would not take away her JeromÍn, but would give her back her son.

He did not stir inside the coach, or put out his head, but remained so quiet with his eyes shut that the Fleming began to think he was asleep. But at the last turn, passing the orchard of Maricuernos, at the place where the Hermitage de los Angeles was afterwards erected, JeromÍn's little hand could be seen out of the window, making last signs to his playfellows and to the humble woman who had brought him up.

JeromÍn went from one surprise to another, seeing pass, for the first time before his eyes, lands and mountains, villages, castles, and people who were not like those of LeganÉs or anything he had imagined. Charles Prevost answered his doubts and questions with real and kindly anxiety to enlighten him, now explaining curious things, now making instructive remarks which opened new and wide horizons before the boy's virgin mind. But in spite of the Fleming's kindness, which sometimes seemed natural and at other times only courtly manners which had become a second nature, the child's innate sharpness showed him that Prevost always hid him from the gaze of the people; that he never explained in inns and on the road who the boy was, or where he was taking him, which JeromÍn himself did not in the least know either. This restrained the natural open character of the boy and armed him with a certain reserve, which without being sulky was a want of confidence, the offspring, no doubt, of offended dignity.

They arrived at Valladolid one May morning, between the 12th and 14th, at midday. Not to attract attention to his conveyance, Charles Prevost got out and entered by the small gate of Balboa and went on foot holding JeromÍn by the hand.

Great animation and movement reigned in the streets, because at the moment the big suites of Grandees, gentlemen, servants and armed men who were to accompany the Prince of the Asturias, D. Philip, on his famous expedition to England were in Valladolid, and no doubt for this reason Charles Prevost chose back streets by which to reach a convent of barefooted friars. They evidently expected him here, for without more words than politeness demanded the Fleming handed the boy over to the Prior, a venerable old man, and left without saying anything further, promising JeromÍn to fetch him in a few days.

The little boy was frightened at finding himself alone among these austere figures, whom he saw for the first time, and who seemed, therefore, strange and terrifying. With precocious self-command, however, he disguised his feelings, and the brothers were so kind to him that after the first day he got used to them and wandered about the cloisters and the orchard as he might have done at LeganÉs. The Prior told off a young, cheerful brother to keep him company and wait on him, and gave him a little crossbow that he might gratify his love of shooting at little birds in the orchard. In a few days they brought him much fine white linen and three suits, made like a peasant's but of fine cloth and beautifully trimmed, from Charles Prevost. JeromÍn wanted to try them on at once, as he was nice about his dress and rather vain, for which there was excuse. He was strong, well made and extremely agile; his skin was white, although burnt by the sun of LeganÉs; he had big, clear blue eyes, soft fair hair, and his whole person was so graceful, high and noble, that seeing him in his ordinary clothes he looked like a little prince dressed up as a peasant.

He arrayed himself in his new clothes at once, and that same afternoon an adventure befell him in the orchard which made a deep impression on his childish imagination. The orchard was very large and extremely shady, and crossed in all directions by rows of trees.

Tired with running about, JeromÍn threw himself at the foot of a pear tree, with his crossbow by his side; in front of him stretched a line of the same trees, from one side of the low cloister to the big stew-pond where the trout were kept.

Very soon JeromÍn saw two very important personages who were conversing amiably, leaving the cloisters and coming towards him. One was the Prior of the convent, a bent old man, who leant on his wooden crutch at each step. The other was a great gentleman of not more than forty, spare, with a bright complexion, a hooked nose, piercing eyes, and a long, carefully tended beard which fell on his chest. He wore a doublet of black velvet, slashed with satin, an old-fashioned cap of the same with a black feather, and fine buckskin gloves which he carried loose in one hand. He had the Prior on his right hand, and was listening to him with great respect, bowing his proud head towards him, at other times answering him vehemently, hitting one hand with the gloves that he carried in the other.

JeromÍn, frightened, wanted to hide, but it was too late, and he had to remain crouching under his pear tree hoping not to be seen. However, the Prior espied him from afar, and at once began a strange manoeuvre, which made the boy wonder; continuing to talk he moved forward little by little so as to put himself between JeromÍn and the gentleman, who passed by without noticing the presence of the little boy. He then saw that when the Prior arrived at the stew-pond he secretly gave an order to a lay brother, and soon after the young brother came and took him out of the orchard by back paths, and shut him up in his cell without saying anything or giving any reasons.

JeromÍn understood that they did not wish him to meet the great personage, and this fixed the hooked nose and long beard so firmly in his memory that, having seen them for only a brief instant, he was able to recognise him years afterwards at a supreme moment.

The next day the young brother came into JeromÍn's cell looking very pleased, and, as if to make up for the night before, told him that he was going to show him the greatest and bravest soldiers who ever drew sword. With much mystery he took the boy to the sacristy under the church, and showed him a small rose window, which opened half-way up the wall to let in air and sunshine. He made him mount a ladder, and through this sort of peep-hole JeromÍn could see one of the narrow, irregular squares which are still so common in Valladolid. The whole square was crowded; not only the windows and balconies, but even the roofs were overflowing with men, women and children, all merry and looking as if they waited for something. And such was the case. Prince Philip was marching to the frontier to receive his widowed sister, the Infanta Juana of Portugal, and from there was going to Corunna to sail for England, and that day, his last in Valladolid, the Prince, with all his suite, was going to attend a service at St. Mary's, and then parade through the streets to take leave of his father's faithful lieges. JeromÍn, ignorant of all this, sought in vain the promised soldiers among the crowd. But he had not long to wait. Very soon the silver trumpets of the Archers of the Guard began to be heard. JeromÍn gave a jump as if he had received an electric shock, and proudly raised his handsome little face, almost fiercely, like a charger who hears for the first time the martial note of a trumpet. With eyes wide open with wonder and admiration he seemed glued to his window. The brother had mounted too, and was looking at what was happening in the square. Slowly, heavily, like walking towers on their great horses, the hundred Archers of the Guard began to pass six deep, wearing their cloaks of yellow velvet, with stripes of three colours, red, white and yellow, which was the device of the Prince. The trumpets duly gave out slowly their melodious notes. Then followed another hundred of halberdiers of the German Guard wearing the same colours and devices, and then another hundred of the Spanish Guard with their captain the Conde de Feria at their head.

The square burst into joyful cries. The brother got down quickly and wished the boy to do so too; between curiosity to see and fear of falling he clung anxiously to the ladder, but he still had time to look at a handsome, fair young man of twenty-six with his beard cut into a point, who came slowly by himself into the square, and from the back of a beautiful horse, caparisoned with velvet and gold, smiled and bowed to the crowd. On his right, at a respectful distance, JeromÍn also saw the gentleman with the hooked nose and long beard who had been the cause of his imprisonment the night before, wearing brilliant orders on his embroidered dark grey doublet and riding a horse with green velvet trappings and a cloth embroidered in silver.

JeromÍn could see no more, the brother made him come down. Once on the ground the boy walked up and down the sacristy in a rage, with his little fists clenched, like a lion cub from whom has been taken some dainty morsel. Through the open window he could hear the measured tread of the horses, and the cries of the people greeting the brilliant suite which closed the triumphal march.

He looked at the brother and thought him hideous; he went to the cloister and thought it a horrible place; he thought of the older man with the long beard and of the young one with the short beard, to try and find some defect in them, but could not. What business had these people to prevent him looking at the soldiers?

The Infanta DoÑa Juana arrived in Valladolid as Governess of the Kingdom very soon after D. Philip left, and four days later Charles Prevost came unexpectedly to the convent to fetch JeromÍn to continue his journey.

They arrived at Medina de Rioseco in two stages, and slept that night at an inn in the outskirts. The next day, late in the morning, they set out by the main road to Toro, and after half an hour's journey they could descry standing against the horizon of vast plains a great castle, flanked by four towers, a large village, and two churches lying at its feet.

Charles Prevost called the child's attention to it, and pointing to the place said, "That is Villagarcia. You will stay there, but I must go on much farther." Drawing the child towards him, and seating him on his knee, he told him very kindly that he had come to the end of his journey; and that in that castle he would find a great lady who was very good, and who would be a mother to him, and, as such, he was to obey, love and respect her, and profit by the lessons that would be given him, and give a good account of himself in the service of God and the study of letters and arms, and not leave the castle without becoming a learned cleric, a great preaching friar, or a brave soldier, according to the vocation God would give him and the advice of his benefactors.

JeromÍn listened to him with astonishment, never taking his beautiful eyes off him. Charles Prevost, who noticed that, as they got nearer to the castle, the child grew more and more uncomfortable and shy, took him again on his knees and told him not to be frightened when he saw the lady, but to greet her with the respect and reverence due to her rank.

They had already reached the castle, which was at the entrance of the village on the Rioseco side. To distract the attention of the child Prevost made him notice the massive towers, the strong turreted walls with loopholes for artillery, and the flag which waved from the tower of homage, announcing to travellers, according to ancient and lordly custom, the presence in the castle of the masters, and the offer of free and safe hospitality to all those who asked for it.

The castle had a fortified gateway which still stands, with a drawbridge over the moat, and another of a later date towards the village with a gentle slope up to it which served as an entrance. Prevost's little Flemish cart went in by this way and entered into a big square courtyard, a real parade ground, which was formed by the two northern towers and the two walls on the east and west, the first precinct of the fortress.

Several grooms came out to receive him, and a grave, bearded squire with his doublet emblazoned with arms and a big sword of the time of the Comunidades. He made JeromÍn and the Fleming enter into the second courtyard through heavy iron gates; then they found themselves in another court of elegant proportions, really that of the house. It was formed by two ornamental cloisters, an upper and a lower one, with slender columns, the top one shut in by a balustrade of stone. There was a big well in the middle of the court, with a great chain and two copper buckets, and the rest of the space was covered with little paths and box bushes, except at the foot of the cloisters, where it was paved. From this lower cloister there was a wide staircase of white stone which JeromÍn mounted trembling, not realising what was the matter with him. At the first landing he became dazed. A group of people hurried down and became confused before the dazzled eyes of the child, as if they flickered like the rays of the sun which was shining on them—a majestic figure dressed in velvet with things that sparkled—a tall Dominican friar—two duennas with white caps and black shawls—some women—several men.

JeromÍn became giddy and everything swam before his eyes, he only saw that two hands of alabaster were stretched out towards him. The boy, hardly knowing what he was doing, only remembering that Prevost had told him to greet the lady with great respect, fell on his knees, joining his little hands as Ana de Medina had taught him to do before the altar of Our Lady of the Angels.

Then he felt that the velvet arms were embracing him and lifting him up; that a beautiful face was against his, covering it with tears, and that a choked voice said to the friar these historical words: "God be with me and help me, my lord brother! It is a pity that I am not the mother of this angel."

DoÑa Magdalena de Ulloa, Toledo, Osorio and QuiÑones was one of the greatest ladies of the Spanish nobility of the sixteenth century. She was the sister of D. Rodrigo de Ulloa, first MarquÉs de la Mota, San CebriÁn, and the Vega del Condado, and of DoÑa Maria de Toledo, of the ancient and noble house of the Condes de Luna.

When she was very young God took from her, first her mother, and then her father, and she remained an orphan under the charge of her grandmother, the Condesa de Luna, and after her death under that of her brother, who fulfilled his duties well and sought a wealthy marriage for her by arrangement, after the custom of the time, between the two families. The bridegroom chosen was Luis MÉndez Quijada, Manuel de Figueredo and Mendoza, Colonel of the Spanish infantry, Steward to the Emperor Charles V, and Lord of Villagarcia, Villanueva de los Caballeros, and Santofimia, and also of Villamayor in the region of Campos, in right of his mother. The pair did not know each other; DoÑa Magdalena lived in Toro with her brother, and Luis Quijada followed the Emperor in his wars and journeys, having been his favourite for twenty years. The marriage articles were arranged in Valladolid on the 29th of February, 1549. D. Diego Tabera, Councillor to H.M. and the Inquisition, represented the bride, and the bridegroom was represented by his uncle, the Archbishop of Santiago, D. Pedro Manuel, and by the illustrious gentleman D. GÓmez Manrique and D. Pedro Laso de Castilla, Steward to Prince Maximilian, Archduke of Austria.

By these articles the MarquÉs de la Mota promised to give his sister a fortune of ten million maravedises, paid by 5000 ducats in money, 2000 in jewels, and the rest by an annuity, adding this clause: "Besides the ten 'cuentos' she is to have clothes and apparel and furniture and ornaments for the house, which she has or will have up to the day of the wedding, estimated by two persons on oath." The bridegroom promised for his part tapestry worth 4000 ducats and to endow her with the towns of Villanueva de los Caballeros and Santafimia, which for this purpose he pledged. The marriage was authorised by the Emperor. Luis Quijada sent from Brussels, where he was then living, full powers to his brother Álvaro de Mendoza to marry DoÑa Magdalena in his name, and this he did in Valladolid on the 27th of November, 1549, adding this clause to the document in his own hand: "And in the name of the said D. Luis Quijada, my brother, for him and as if he himself were present and as a gentleman of noble birth, I do homage once, twice, three times in the presence and under the authority of D. Bernardo de AcuÑa, Commander of the Order of Santiago, gentleman of noble birth, who through me, and in the said name received him, taking my hand in his according to the law of Spain, that the said Lord Luis Quijada, my brother, shall have and keep and fulfil and pay all that is said and is contained in this writing in good faith, and without deception and without adding or taking away under the penalties which befall and are incurred by gentlemen of noble birth who do not keep their word, faith and homage."

In this strange way marriages were then made, and still more extraordinary is it that they usually turned out as happily as did this one. For when, soon afterwards, Luis Quijada arrived in Valladolid, where his wife went to meet him, they were so attracted to each other, he by her beauty and womanly discretion, she by his generosity and noble bearing, that the Christian love and absolute confidence they then plighted to each other lasted unto death.

Notwithstanding that, there came a time when a severe test was put to this mutual confidence. At the end of 1553 or the beginning of 1554 the posts from Flanders began to come more frequently than ever to Villagarcia. Luis Quijada was following Charles V in his last campaign against the French, and the husband never lost an opportunity of letting his wife have news of the dangers he ran or the triumphs he gained. She was the first person in Spain to know of the taking of Terouanne and the tower of Hesdin, where Luis Quijada so much distinguished himself, and to her came the first rumours of the return of the Emperor and his projected retirement to a convent.

But among all this news which pleased her as a wife, and added to the lustre of her house, one day there came unexpectedly a letter which plunged her in perplexity. It was the letter which Luis Quijada had written from Brussels, probably in February, 1554, although the date is unknown. Quijada announced to his wife that before long, but after she had heard again, a man who had his entire confidence would present himself at Villagarcia, and that this man would make over to her a child of seven or nine years old, called JeromÍn, and he begged her by the love she bore and which she had always shown him to accept the boy as a mother would, and as such to protect and educate him. He also said that the boy was the son of a great friend, whose name he could not reveal, but whose position and prestige he guaranteed. And he added that though the education of JeromÍn was to be that of a gentleman, his father did not wish him to dress as such, but to wear the garb of a peasant, in which he would present himself. It was the desire of the father, moreover, that with all gentleness and discretion the child JeromÍn should be urged to enter the Church, but not if it were not his vocation or the Divine wish. The reading of this letter produced in the warm heart of DoÑa Magdalena a first and keen sense of pleasure. She had no children, nor had hopes of ever having any, and through the door, when she least expected it, was coming to her one of God's own little ones, sent by him whom she loved best, her own husband. DoÑa Magdalena's imagination, spurred on by the charitable anxiety to protect the weak and love the oppressed, made her see JeromÍn already in her arms while Luis Quijada looked on contentedly, smiling at her lovingly and gratefully.

This is what DoÑa Magdalena felt rather than thought at first, but then came slow, cold reflection, extinguishing with its logic the eagerness of her impulse and giving light with its reasons to the blindness of the senses, tarnishing by its rough contact the smiling work of her imagination, as a heavy shower of rain spoils the wings of a butterfly. And more icy than reflection, who, if cold and severe, is still honourable, came her bastard sister, suspicion, vile suspicion, who undermines and poisons everything and worms her way into the most upright souls. Reason placed this question roughly but frankly before her. Why does not Luis Quijada have enough confidence in you to tell you the name of the father, if he gives the child into your care? And suspicion slipped gently into her bosom this mean reply, "Because who knows but that he is himself the father."

DoÑa Magdalena had a severe conflict with herself, but her heart was so large that nothing and nobody except her conscience could ever stop her in a generous act, and throwing everything, fears, suspicions and imagined wrongs into the flames of her pure charity, she cried out, "What does it matter where the child comes from, if he is a helpless creature whom God throws into my arms?"

The presence of JeromÍn in Villagarcia brought a ray of joy to the sombre castle of the Quijadas, which reflected itself on its inhabitants. The merry laugh of a child always enlivens its surroundings, like the song of a bird in a gloomy wood, or a sunbeam piercing a dark cloud.

The retinue of DoÑa Magdalena consisted of two duennas, DoÑa Elizabeth and DoÑa Petronilla de Alderete, both noble widows and first cousins; four maids, of only two of whom are the names preserved, Louisa and the Blonde; two squires, Diego Ruy and Juan Galarza, this last an old noble, a companion-in-arms of Quijada; three pages; a steward, Pedro Vela by name; an accountant called Luis de Valverde, who enjoyed the utmost confidence of the lady. Besides these there was a swarm of cooks, labourers, and grooms, also six of Luis Quijada's old soldiers, who looked after the artillery and armaments of the fortress, unnecessary at the moment as Castille was at peace, but ready in case of need. DoÑa Magdalena also had two chaplains; one, GarcÍa de Morales, who lived in the castle, and the other, GuillÉn Prieto, a very learned doctor of Salamanca, who came to educate JeromÍn from Zamora. He lived in the village and also served the chapel of the ancient hermitage of St. Lazarus, which stood on the site where DoÑa Magdalena afterwards founded the great house of the Society.

The household fell in love with the graceful, childish figure, and each outdid the other in serving and spoiling JeromÍn, attracted by the charm of his person and the halo of mystery which surrounded him. He, on his side, with the discernment children have of the love, aversion or indifference they inspire, and the degree of liberty they may take, felt himself loved from the first moment, though not for an instant did he feel, as do the spoilt children of to-day, that he was the master of the house. Between the spoiling and flattery of these good people, and the native pride and self-will of the boy, interposed the stately figure of DoÑa Magdalena, neither severe nor austere, but smiling and lovingly wise, and for this reason she kept him firmly in a secondary position, in absolute obedience to her, according to Luis Quijada's wish.

DoÑa Magdalena usually ate with the household, according to the custom of the time, and JeromÍn sat at her table, below the two duennas and above the squires. Every day she heard mass in her oratory with JeromÍn at her side, but she did not give him either a cushion or a seat. On Sundays and feast days the noble dame went with all her household to the parish church of St. Peter, and heard high mass and a sermon from her stall in the chancel, as lady of the place and patroness of the church; as page of honour JeromÍn stood at her side, between her stall and the bench of the duennas. Similarly in the parlour, DoÑa Magdalena often sent for him to hear her duennas reading aloud, while she embroidered for the church, or spun for the poor, or sewed, or mended; but she never gave him more than a cushion, and this far from the dais on which she alone was seated.

Once a day, however, everything was changed, and she forgot the dignity of the great lady in the tenderness of the mother, coming into his room and waking him, dressing him, and combing his hair, he still half asleep with his pretty face in her lap, and his little hands in hers; and making him kneel at her side, she prayed and taught him to pray before a crucifix that she herself had given him.

This crucifix was and is, for it is still preserved in a reliquary at Villagarcia, an object of no great artistic merit, about a palm and a half high without the pedestal. This is its history. Years before the terrible rebellion in the Alpujarras, in one of the warning outbreaks of the Moors, Luis Quijada was skirmishing in the environs of Valencia, before embarking for Tunis. A suspected village was denounced to him, where the Moors were holding secret meetings, and there Quijada went, alone and disguised. He lodged in the house of the informer, and at night saw a bonfire blazing in a Moorish enclosure, which was surrounded by high walls.

He got there as best he could, and in the yard saw a strange sight. As many as sixty Moors were surrounding the fire, with gestures and mien of adoration, but in profound silence. Others entered, carrying, tied to a long reed, a figure of Christ, which they had stolen from a church. All the worship was changed to angry grimaces and shaking of fists, and taking the figure from its bearers, they threw it into the fire.

The thud of the image falling into the flames roused Quijada from the horrible astonishment which paralysed him; and without thinking, which is the way heroic deeds are done, he jumped into the yard, and without other weapon than his sword, set on the Moors, pushing some, upsetting others, wounding many, and making them all take to their heels. When the coast was clear, he threw himself into the fire, among the flames and smoke and hot cinders, searching for the sacred image. He found it at last, half burned, and went out of the door, holding it aloft and calling down vengeance, his sword in his hand, his hair scorched, his clothes burnt, and his face and hands blackened and covered with blood. DoÑa Magdalena told JeromÍn this story, and he asked the first time why they burnt the crucifix. The child listened with his soul in his tear-filled eyes, his mouth contracted, his nostrils dilated, and his little fists clenched, with all the look of a Clodovic in miniature, furious not to have been able with his Gauls to have prevented the theft of the Christ. The lady understood the nobleness of this childish heart, which beat at the sound of that which was great, holy, and brave, and she looked at him for a moment in admiration, and then contented herself by kissing him. But, by the next courier, she asked Quijada's permission to place the child under the protection of the sacred image. This Quijada readily granted, and the crucifix was moved from the head of his bed, where it was, to JeromÍn's, who always kept it with him, calling it afterwards "His Christ of battles," and he died kissing it, invoking its holy name.

DoÑa Magdalena only allowed JeromÍn two days in which to rest from the fatigue of his journey, and to visit the village and castle; the third day, which was a Monday, she made him begin at once to regulate his hours and studies, according to the plans she had prepared. She had given him a room near hers, and the chaplain GarcÍa de Morales, who was to be his tutor and instructor in religion and Christian doctrine, was lodged on the other side. The chaplain GuillÉn Prieto was given the care of his secular education, and the noble squire Juan Galarza undertook to instruct him in the theory and use of arms and also in riding.

DoÑa Magdalena for her part reserved the duty of training him in the love of God and of his neighbour, which she easily did by always showing him the good example of her saintly life, rather than by rules and precepts. Charity was the distinguishing virtue of this great woman, made brighter by her discretion. She thought that the duties of her rank consisted in forwarding God's glory and the good of her neighbour, particularly of her vassals, to whom she felt specially bound by the mere fact of her position. She gave away her ample income, and, later, distributed her fortune, which was not entailed, in this way, to relieve misery and the material wants of the poor, to supply the needs of their souls, and to increase the service of Our Lord and His honour.

In order to further these objects she founded hospitals on her estates and beyond them, in increasing numbers she redeemed captives, and so continuous and copious were her alms, that after her death she was called "God's almoner." She also founded colleges, schools, missions and catechisings; and was so munificent in what referred to God's service that, not content with raising sumptuous temples, at one time she ordered 500 silver chalices to be made and distributed among poor parishes which did not possess any worthy of the Blessed Sacrament, the object of her special devotion.

DoÑa Magdalena had ordered her accountant, Luis de Valverde, an honourable old man, to ascertain the wants of the poor of Villagarcia, and to give each one a paper signed by him, setting out what in his opinion was lacking to the bearer.

The poor brought the papers at a special time to DoÑa Magdalena, which was very early in the morning, not to interfere with their work. She religiously paid them, adding to the alms the balsam of compassion, good advice and respect for misfortune. This was DoÑa Magdalena's hour of recreation, and she had also chosen it to instil in JeromÍn charity and respect towards the poor, which after the fear of God is the first duty of the great and powerful.

This lady got up at sunrise at all times, and at once went to JeromÍn's room to wake and dress him. They heard the mass read by GarcÍa de Morales, and then JeromÍn was dispatched to await in the cloisters the arrival of the poor people. He made them sit on two stone benches which ran along the lower cloisters, giving preference to the old and infirm, and then went to tell his aunt, for by this name, according to Quijada's wish, the child began to call DoÑa Magdalena. "Aunt! There are such a lot of poor," he used to announce.

Then she would come down with two big purses, one filled with silver reales for the poor who were proud and had Valverde's papers, the other one with pence for the ordinary poor who had no papers, to whom she always gave 20 maravedises and upwards. DoÑa Magdalena collected the papers, and JeromÍn gave the money, very respectfully, kissing it first, cap in hand.

One day, however, there came among the poor a very dirty old man from Tordehumos; it disgusted JeromÍn to touch his hand, so he let the money fall, as if by accident, and the old man had to pick it up. But DoÑa Magdalena, guessing the reason, stooped down and picked it up herself, and gave it to the old man, first kissing the dirty hand. JeromÍn flushed up to the roots of his hair, and full of shame went on with his task.

Three days afterwards the same old man came again. JeromÍn turned crimson on seeing him, intentionally dropped the money, stooped and picked it up, and kneeling humbly down, kissed first the money and then the hand of the old man.

Thus the child profited by and understood the lessons given him, and grew and flourished amid the love and blessings of everyone in the castle. There was only one thing which drew on him scoldings from D. GuillÉn Prieto and severe remarks from DoÑa Magdalena—his studies. He could read Spanish fluently, write well in a running hand, and began to stammer in French, which by the express order of Quijada was taught him by a Fleming, who had come to Villagarcia for the purpose, but Latin with its "ibus" and "orum," and Greek with its horrible letters like flies' legs, were uphill work to the boy, which nothing save the wish to please DoÑa Magdalena and to earn her approbation would have made him undertake. But the boy had made a complete conquest of Juan Galarza. No one, according to him, had a better eye, a steadier hand, or was more quick and agile, or more daring and brave, and at the same time more calm, "and when he got astride either the pony or the Roman mule of my lord D. Álvaro, God rest his soul," wrote the squire to Fr. Domingo de Ulloa, "a devil seems to enter him and make him more merry and active and a greater romp than ever."

And DoÑa Magdalena said with deep conviction, "Let him grow up and he will be another Luis Quijada, my lord."

Periodically she wrote about these things to Quijada, who passed them on to a mysterious person, whom we shall often meet in the course of this history.

"The person who is in my charge," she wrote about then, "is in good health and to my mind is growing and is a good size for his age. He gets on with his lessons with much difficulty, and he does nothing with so much dislike. He is also learning French, and the few words he knows he pronounces well, though to know it as he should will take more time and practice. What he likes best is to go on horseback riding either with a saddle or bareback, and you will see that he seems as if he would use a lance well, though his strength does not help him yet."

This news must have proved to Luis Quijada and his mysterious correspondent that JeromÍn's tastes were not those of a cleric, as his unknown father and Quijada desired they should be. DoÑa Magdalena had seen it from the first moment with her usual perspicuity. On his arrival at Villagarcia both she and her brother, Fr. Domingo de Ulloa, wished that she should show the boy the castle and its treasures, so as to be able to judge his character from his first impressions. Nothing caused the boy wonder or even surprise. Not the rich Flemish tapestries with which some of the halls were hung, or the sumptuous beds with their columns and canopies; not the plate which shone everywhere, or the embroidered ornaments in the oratory, purposely displayed before his gaze, or the cast-iron stove which had come from Flanders to warm DoÑa Magdalena's parlour, and which was something then unknown in Spain, and so much prized that it was afterwards taken to Yuste, so that the Emperor himself might make use of it.

The boy looked at everything with the simple indifference of one who has grown up among similar objects, and with high-bred ease that pleased as much as it astonished.

But when he came to the armoury and saw the heavy iron armour, the lances four times as tall as himself, the trophies of shining cuirasses, swords, and shields, the sight of these dread weapons filled him with enthusiasm. He ran about looking at all the details, and at each step stretched out his little hand to touch these wonders, and then drew it back as if he was afraid of hurting them.

Till at last admiration overcoming everything, he stopped before a small suit of very beautiful armour, that Quijada had brought from Italy, which was lying on the ground waiting to be cleaned, and he asked DoÑa Magdalena's leave to touch it, with all a child's shyness. The lady gladly gave him permission, and with trembling respect, as if he was handling something sacred, he fingered the armour all over, examining the joints, working the visor up and down, and ending by putting his fist into the cuirass. This made a metallic sound, and JeromÍn lifted his radiant face towards his protectors with a smile on his lips, and a look in his eyes that showed his character.

The lady, half smiling and half astonished, said to her brother, "Luis Quijada, my lord, will be annoyed. We have here a little soldier and no monk."

JeromÍn had a great fright on the morning of the 28th of August, 1556. He was doing his lessons with D. GuillÉn Prieto, when DoÑa Elizabeth de Alderete, first lady-in-waiting, appeared suddenly to tell him from DoÑa Magdalena to come to the parlour.

She considered his lesson time so sacred, and it was so extraordinary that she should send for him during this hour, that the boy, frightened, began hastily to examine himself to see what faults of commission or omission he could have been accused of. Then he saw a courier covered with dust passing through the cloister. He began to imagine that the strange power which governed him and took him from one place to another was claiming him once more, and was going to separate him from DoÑa Magdalena, which made the child so miserable that he arrived in the presence of the lady very crestfallen, and with eyes full of tears.

DoÑa Magdalena was standing, an open letter in her hand, and joy in her face, so that, with the discernment of a much-loved child, JeromÍn was comforted at once. "My aunt would not look so happy if they were going to take me away," he said to himself. She came to meet him, holding out her arms.

"Come here, JeromÍn, give me a kiss as a reward for good news," and she gave him one on the forehead with all the tenderness of a mother, and then added joyfully, "You shall be the first to know, JeromÍn, that in three days Luis Quijada, my lord, will be here." Everyone present, duennas and maids, exclaimed with delight, and pleased with these demonstrations, DoÑa Magdalena, more beside herself with joy than JeromÍn had ever seen her, then said, "And now, JeromÍn, amuse yourself all day and go with Juan Galarza wherever you please."

Meanwhile the news, carried by the courier, had run through the castle and village with many added details. The abdication of the Emperor was already a fact, and despoiled of all his power Charles V had embarked at Flushing for Spain, in order to shut himself up for the rest of his days in the convent of Yuste. For this purpose the Emperor was sending forward his steward Quijada, from whom he was inseparable, that he might await Charles's arrival in Laredo, after having spent a few weeks in the bosom of his family.

This news convulsed the castle, village, and most of all JeromÍn, who had not a moment's peace during those three days, or passed a night without dreaming of the noble figure of Quijada, whom he only knew by hearsay, and imagined to be something gigantic.

It was a great race, that of Quijada, four centuries of honour sustained from generation to generation on the field of battle, and the present one had not spilled their blood less gloriously. Luis's eldest brother, Pedro, had been shot at the Emperor's side in Tunis. Juan, the youngest, had died at Teruanne fighting for Castille, and Luis, the only one left, had been wounded in the Goletta. He was the hero of Hesdin and the inseparable companion of the Emperor in Africa, Flanders, Germany and Italy, serving him loyally for thirty-five years. It pleased the boy to conjure up this pair, formidable by their deeds, dazzling in their glory, as Juan Galarza had so often described them to him in the battle of Landresies, where the squire also fought. The Emperor gave Luis Quijada his banner, and putting on his helmet said to the squadron of the Court, that the day had come and that they must fight like honourable gentlemen, and that if they saw him or his standard carried by Quijada fall, they were to raise the flag before raising him. There was no doubt about it: two great principles were taking hold of JeromÍn without his knowing it. God and the helpless, as DoÑa Magdalena felt and taught. The Emperor, the King, authority and justice came from heaven and were sisters, as their servant Quijada proclaimed!

And then the poor child became miserable and wrung his little hands—why? Because in three days he would see the glorious leader without having done anything for his God or his King.

Hearing him groaning and restless DoÑa Magdalena, who was also sleepless, ran to his help, thinking him ill; and when with childish confidence he told her his trouble, the noble dame could not do otherwise than laugh and be astonished at the same time.

All the neighbours in Villagarcia went to meet their lord half a league beyond the village, the men with arquebuses to fire a salute, the women in their best clothes and the children in two rows to sing the hymn of the Quijadas, according to ancient custom. Some of the neighbouring gentlemen, who were relations, went on horseback to Rioseco, where the last stage began, and all the clergy of the place went with uplifted cross as far as the hermitage of St. Lazarus, according to the privilege of the noble house of the Quijadas.

Night was already drawing in when the horn of the watchman, posted on the tower of homage, announced that the suite was approaching. They could hear the salvos and the voices of the girls and boys singing:

The bells of St. Pedro and St. Boil and the small bell of St. Lazarus all began to ring joyfully, and the clergy hastened to the hermitage to give the cross to be kissed by the lord of the place and the patron of the church.

Luis Quijada came, riding a powerful mule, his thin tabard of taffeta soiled by the dust of the journey, and wearing a head-dress of unbleached linen on account of the heat. He was more than fifty, tall, powerful, and spare, sunburnt until he seemed sallow, with a thick black beard, his look intelligent but hard, his head bald beyond his years from the continual friction of his helmet. Bending over his saddle he kissed the cross of the parish with his head uncovered, and answered the responses in correct Latin, trying to soften his naturally rough, harsh voice; and putting his mule at a walk he rode, surrounded by the whole village, followed by the gentlemen and men-at-arms and more than twenty mules with baggage and provisions.

He got off at the gate of the castle, for on the threshold DoÑa Magdalena and all the household were awaiting him, in front of her JeromÍn in his best clothes, holding a tray covered with a rich cloth with the keys of the castle, which he was to present to the master on bended knee when he alighted.

There was a moment of expectant curiosity; those present were breathless and silent from the lady to the lowest villein of Villagarcia. The suspicion that JeromÍn was Luis Quijada's son had spread through the castle, and had rooted itself in the village as a certainty, and all wished to see the meeting of father and son, which they thought would be dramatic.

Whether Quijada had come prepared, or whether it was really a spontaneous impulse, he sprang lightly off the mule, and without taking the keys or looking at JeromÍn, went straight up to DoÑa Magdalena and embraced her tenderly with much joy and signs of affection.

Everyone shouted, the artillery of the castle burst forth with salvos which made the old walls echo and shake; fireworks whizzed through the air, and from the cloister minstrels, who had come there on purpose, saluted the arrival of the master with trumpets, drums, and other instruments accompanying the hymn of the Quijadas:

The coming of the lord of Villagarcia did not alter JeromÍn's position in the castle. Quijada treated him with the same affection and prudent precautions as DoÑa Magdalena did, and never lost an opportunity of studying JeromÍn's nature and the springs of his character, and those impulses of manliness and energy which are the base of real valour.

One day when Quijada was in the armoury cleaning a gun and JeromÍn at his side giving him the pieces, he said suddenly, "JeromÍn, would you be capable of shooting off a gun?" and the boy answered him with perfect confidence, "I should be ready to shoot off a gun or to receive a shot."

The answer pleased Quijada, who from that time gave him leave to remain covered in his presence, and gave him a little sword, more a childish toy than an arm of defence.

But very shortly JeromÍn covered himself with still greater glory, according to the detailed account of the licenciado PorreÑo. On the occasion of a bull-fight in Villandrando, a very fierce bull charged the barrier and put everyone to flight except JeromÍn, who, sheltered by the woodwork, faced the animal and tried to wound it with his little sword in the head, making the bull go back to the arena, to the astonishment of everyone, who did not attribute the deed to mad daring, but rather to bravery or a real miracle.

On which, says PorreÑo, "The ladies at the windows of the bull-ring sang his praises and the whole crowd applauded the courage and daring of the lad, who had firmly withstood this savage animal, and congratulated Luis Quijada on the bravery, which under an humble garb his protÉgÉ showed, judging that beneath the sackcloth there was the...."

At three o'clock in the morning of the 2nd of October, 1556, a horseman arrived at Villagarcia by road from Valladolid, and knocked furiously on the door of the castle. The night watchman hastened at the noise from the top of the wall, and asked who went there.

"Praised be God," said the person below.

"And the Virgin, Our Lady," replied he on the wall.

Cap in hand, the horseman then added pompously, "A letter from Her Highness the very Serene Princess Governess."

This naturally made a stir throughout the castle. Luis Quijada himself came out to meet the messenger, half dressed, with his spectacles in his hand. He read the Princess's letter and then handed it to DoÑa Magdalena gloomily, for he was one of those people who are all self-sacrifice and abnegation in their acts, but grumbling and cross in their words. This is what the letter said:

"The Princess.

Luis MÉndez Quijada, Steward to the Emperor my Lord, this morning I have received tidings that the Emperor, my Lord, and the Very Serene Queens, my aunts, arrived last Monday, the eve of St. Michael, at Laredo, and that H.M. disembarked that day, and they on the following one, and that they are well, for which much thanks to Our Lord, and were received with due pleasure and contentment. And as you are wanted for the journey, and as it is convenient to know where to lodge them in this town, I pray you that as soon as you receive this you will start and go at once to H.M. by post, and that when you are arrived you will give an account of the two apartments which we had arranged and let me know, with all diligence, which one H.M. would prefer, and that you will say whether any stoves shall be put in them or other things, so that it may be done ready for his arrival.

"Also I beg you that you will ascertain from H.M. if he wishes that foot and horse guards should be sent for his escort or that of the Very Serene Queens, my aunts. If it will be necessary for any Grandees or knights to come as escort. Also if he wishes that there should be any reception in Burgos or here for H.M. or the Queens, my aunts, and of what kind.

"If he wishes the Prince, my nephew, to go to meet them on the road, and where. If he would like me to do the same, or the councillors who are here. That you may advise me with all diligence, particularly as to his wish in everything.

"Also that you should undertake the charge, which I give you, of seeing that His Majesty is well provided on the road with everything necessary, and also the Very Serene Queens, my aunts, and to see that the taxes are well collected, advising the Alcalde Durango what it appears to you necessary for him to provide, that nothing be lacking, and me here what it is convenient to provide for him, in doing which you will please me much. From Valladolid, 1st of October, 1556.

DoÑa Magdalena returned the letter, after reading it, to Quijada, saying sadly that he would be obliged to set out that afternoon or the next day at latest, to which Quijada answered irritably that he saw no need to wait until the afternoon when on the Emperor's service, and that he would start at once. And he gave his orders so quickly, and so expeditious was everyone in executing them, that two hours later, at five in the morning, Quijada and his people were all ready to set out. JeromÍn came to kiss his hand with eyes full of tears; but shaking him roughly by the shoulders Quijada told him "to keep those tears for when he confessed his sins, that only at the feet of a confessor it became men to cry." Ashamed, the boy swallowed his tears, and then Quijada, thinking that he had been over-severe, gave him his hand to be kissed, making the sign of the cross on his forehead, and promised him the suit of Milanese armour the first time he should break a lance in public.

Luis Quijada made the journey from Villagarcia to Laredo in three days and a half, according to the letter he wrote himself to the Princess's secretary, Juan VÁzguez, on the 6th of October.

"Illustrious Sir,

I arrived here from Villagarcia in three days and a half, with great difficulty, as I could not find posts or animals to hire." And further, he adds, "Nothing more occurs to me to say except that it does nothing but rain, that the roads are bad, and the lodgings worse. God keep us; we shall have work, but not so much as I have gone through this journey. I tell your Honour the truth, I have never passed through worse or greater dangers, because I could already see myself knocking off the tops of thirty peaks, as a mule fell with me across a wide gap, and if it had been to the left, I should have had a still worse fall. From Bilbao, 6th of October, 1556, sent from Laredo.—

Luis Quijada then met those three august ruins the Emperor and his two sisters, the widowed Queens of Hungary and France, in Laredo, who, despoiled of everything, and weary of acting great parts in the world's drama, were come to die in the peace of the Lord, each one in a different corner of Spain.

The eldest of the three was Queen Elinor, widow by a first marriage of D. Manuel the Fortunate of Portugal and by a second of the magnificent Francis I of France. DoÑa Elinor was fifty-eight, but more than years, troubles, anxieties and the dreadful asthma she suffered from had aged her, so that no one would have recognised in this sad, bent old woman the former brilliant Queen of Portugal and France. But neither age, nor illness, nor her many and bitter disappointments had been able to alter the serenity of her character or her goodness, which made D. Luis de Ávila and ZÚÑiga say in a letter written to the secretary, Juan VÁzguez, "She was really an innocent saint, and I think she had no more malice than an old dove."

The Queen of Hungary, on the other hand, was masculine and decided. As quick to see as she was prudent and energetic to execute. Her brother loved her beyond everything, and DoÑa Maria repaid his fraternal affection with interest, and was always his greatest admirer, upholding his policy with great ability. Her energy and talent got him out of grave difficulties and real troubles during the twenty-five years this great Princess was Regent of Flanders. At the time of her return to Spain she was fifty-two, but had no signs of age except grey hair, and in spite of her years, and the heart disease from which she suffered, would have performed the journey on horseback by the side of her brother's litter if the weakness of the Queen of France had not kept her at her sister's side. DoÑa Elinor, recognising the affection and superiority of her sister, always sought advice and help from her, which DoÑa Maria gave, as the most loving mother might to the most trusting daughter. The sisters were also physically a contrast. At that time DoÑa Elinor was a little, short, dried-up old woman, with very white hair and such a peaceful, sweet face that she attracted by this imposing but gentle majesty, which was placed in relief by virtue of her rank.

DoÑa Maria was tall for a woman, with a good figure and extremely stately, though not in the same way as her sister, but with that other majesty which stamps the fact of superiority by merit, rather than that of superiority by birth. Neither of the Queens dressed in Spanish fashion, but richly and plainly in the Flemish style, with double skirts caught up, and severe coif of black velvet, linen collars, and black veils which covered them from head to foot.

Between these ruins came that of the no less august and worn-out majesty, the invincible Emperor, vanquished only by years, wars, worries and his gluttony, for this really great man who had controlled two worlds could never control his own excessive appetite, and this had overcome him, crippling his hands and paralysing his knees. His wide forehead was bald, and his under-lip, already a characteristic of this great race and still distinguishing it, fell more than ever. On the 6th of October the Emperor set out from Laredo after dinner, and in one march reached Ampuero, where he made the first halt. The road did not permit all the suite to travel together, and they were divided in this way. First went the Alcalde Durango with fifty alguaciles with wands, and behind came the litter of the Emperor with Quijada at his side; it looked more like the procession of a prisoner than the escort of the greatest monarch on earth. As a matter of precaution there was also a sedan-chair in which they could place His Majesty in difficult places, and behind came valets and several mules with the things indispensable to the Emperor wherever he was.

At the distance of one march followed the litters of the Queens and their ladies, some of whom went on horseback; also sedan-chairs in case of necessity, and a mule and a horse saddled for the Queen of Hungary, who liked to ride occasionally. The third group consisted of the rest of the suite of the Emperor and the Queens and more than a hundred mules laden with baggage.

This modest escort was Quijada's despair, as only five alguaciles guarded the Emperor like a prisoner, and he had several discussions on this point, giving his opinion with his usual peevish frankness. The Emperor sent him to the devil, as was his custom, and Quijada, annoyed and in a bad temper, was silent till the next opportunity.

The Constable of Castille and D. Francisco Baamonde came out to meet them at Burgos, and accompanied them to Valladolid with a very brilliant guard. At CabezÓn, two leagues from Valladolid, the Emperor met Prince Carlos; his grandson went to greet him with some gentlemen of his household. The Emperor did not know this unfortunate Prince, who was afterwards so tragically celebrated, and was very pleased to see him. D. Carlos was then eleven, and as the day was rather cold had put on a very richly lined doublet, which, according to a letter from Francisco Osorio to Philip II, suited him very well, and His Highness looked a "foreigner." The bravery of his attire, however, could not hide the Prince's feeble frame, or the notable disproportion of his head to the rest of his body. His grandfather and the two Queens gave him their hands to kiss, which the Prince did very politely and respectfully. But the first moment of shyness passed, the boy returned to his usual restlessness and self-will, and began to make a noise and upset the room with very little respect for those great personages. And seeing a portable stove, which served to warm the Emperor's room during the journey, a thing then unknown in Spain, he asked his grandfather to give it to him. This was refused, and, the child still persisting, the Emperor, almost angry, said sternly, "Be silent, D. Carlos. After my death you will have time to enjoy it." It did not please the Prince that the Emperor and the two Queens talked French among themselves, as they usually did, as he could not understand this language, which drew down upon him another reproof from his grandfather, who told him very severely that his was the fault for having taken so little pains to learn it.

Meanwhile the good Queen Elinor begged her brother to tell the child something of his campaigns; this the Emperor gladly did, and the Prince listened with great attention. But when he referred to his flight from Innspruck before the Elector Maurice, the Prince interrupted him abruptly and disrespectfully, saying that he should not have run away. The grandfather laughed at his grandson's outburst, and explained that want of money, finding himself alone, and the state of his health had obliged him to make this flight.

"It does not matter. You ought not to have run away." His persistence amused the Emperor, who went on arguing, "But if your own pages wished to seize you and you were alone among them, you would have to run away to escape from them." "No," said the Prince proudly and with anger, "I should never run away." The Emperor laughed at this haughty persistence, which pleased him, but he was not altogether very well satisfied with the heir to the throne, as he said to his sister, the Queen of France.

"He seems very noisy, and his manner and temper please me little. One does not know what may become of such a hot-tempered youth."

Luis Quijada hoped that, once established at Yuste, the Emperor would allow him to return to his castle of Villagarcia and rest by the side of DoÑa Magdalena. The Emperor, however, thought otherwise, and all his generosity consisted in giving Quijada a few days' leave two months after his arrival, in April, 1557.

The Emperor set out from Valladolid on the 4th of November, 1556, at half-past three in the afternoon, after having dined in public, and forbidding absolutely that anyone besides his servants should take leave of him beyond the Puerta del Campo. In this second march he took an escort of cavalry and forty halberdiers. The first stop was at Medina del Campo, in the house of a celebrated money-lender named Rodrigo de DueÑas, who, like all those who unexpectedly become rich, was vain and ostentatious and wished to make a parade of his wealth, putting in the Emperor's room a brazier of massive gold, and instead of ordinary fuel fine cinnamon from Ceylon. This show, however, displeased the Emperor, and the smell of the cinnamon affected his throat, so he ordered the brazier to be taken away, and the money-lender to be paid for his hospitality, to humble his ostentatious, vulgar vanity. Another five marches brought them to Tornavacas on the 11th of November. Tornavacas is on the side of the range which bounds the Vera of Plasencia. From here it is only one march to Jarandilla, the next halt, but it was a very troublesome one, as a horrible defile, called the Black Pass, had to be traversed, which had no real road, only a track across torrents, by precipices, and through dark chestnut woods which covered the steep sides of the mountain.

The Emperor decided to follow this shorter but more difficult route, and left early on the 12th, preceded by many peasants with pikes and staves to make the way practicable. In front went the Emperor, sometimes in his litter, at others in his sedan-chair, or carried on men's shoulders, according to the state of the road. At his side walked Quijada, a pike in his hand, directing the march. Thus they went for three leagues.

The rest of the suite came behind without order and only careful not to leave their bones among the precipices. On arriving at the top of the Puerta the view of the beautiful Vera de Plasencia stretched before the gaze of the Emperor, and far away at the end of the valley on a little hillock, surrounded by orange and lemon trees, was the monastery of Yuste, which was to be his sepulchre. He looked on it for a time in silence, and then, turning round towards the Puerta, through which he had just come, said solemnly and sadly to Quijada, "I shall never go through another pass in my life except that of death."

The Emperor lodged in Jarandilla, in the castle of the Conde de Oropesa, D. Fernando Álvarez de Toledo, and stayed there three months, waiting until his rooms at Yuste were ready for him, and for money to pay the servants who had accompanied him so far, and who were not to follow him to the monastery. They amounted to about ninety, counting among them Italians, Burgundians, and Flemings. At last the Emperor definitely set out for Yuste, on the 3rd of February, 1557. At the door of his room he took leave of his servants, amid their tears, and with no little emotion on his part. After that everything was as silent and solemn as a funeral. Punctually at three o'clock he got into his litter, accompanied by the Conde de Oropesa riding on his right, Quijada on his left, and the Lord Chamberlain La Chaux behind.

The litter passed between two lines of halberdiers formed up at the gates of the castle, and no sooner had it passed than the guards threw down their halberds sorrowfully, as if they no longer wished to use these arms, after having done so in the service of so great an Emperor. The afternoon was rather foggy and the country dreary, and there was much that was impressive and funereal in the passing of this modest procession, which crossed the valley in silence and wound slowly up the hill on which the monastery stands. The litter stopped at the door of the church, among some orange trees, and the Emperor got out; they put him like a corpse into a chair and carried him up the steps of the High Altar. The Conde de Oropesa on his right, Luis Quijada on his left. The Prior, Fr. Martin de Angulo, then intoned the Te Deum. "The bells were overwhelmed and seemed to make more noise than usual," says the ingenuous account of the anonymous monk of Yuste.

The Emperor did not live at Yuste like a simple monk, as so many historians have averred. His household consisted of more than fifty persons, without counting the fifty-three friars who in various ways were connected with his service, and were selected with great care and sent to Yuste from the other convents of the Order. His house was large and comfortable, though not sumptuous, as can still be seen, for, thanks to its proprietors, the Marqueses de Mirabel, it remains intact. On one side it joined the church, the other three looked on the brothers' shady garden, which had been given up to the Emperor. The building consisted of eight big, square rooms, four on the ground-floor for summer, and four above for winter, which were those that the Emperor used. On each floor, from east to west, went galleries, the lower one running round both ends of the garden, the upper one leading to two large terraces, planted with flowers, oranges and lemons, and embellished with beautiful fountains, where, as in a stew-pond, were magnificent trout.

The rooms were hung with twenty-four pieces of Flemish tapestry, representing landscapes and scenes with animals. The study, or room, where the Emperor received was in the deepest mourning. At the time it was fitted up he was wearing mourning for his mother Queen Juana, so it was put up and so it still remains. It was hung with long black cloths and floating curtains and had a canopy and six big chairs of black velvet; twelve chairs of walnut and artistically worked leather, and six benches, which opened and shut, lined with black cloth. In the centre and almost under the canopy was a large table with a black velvet cover and an enormous arm-chair of a particular shape, with six very soft cushions and wheels to move it about, where the Emperor sat.

The bedroom had two beds, a big one and a little one, and a window in front which was also a door, and opened on to the same level as the High Altar of the church. Through it the Emperor heard mass from his bed when he did not get up, and through it the brothers came to give him the Pax and the Holy Communion when he received it, which he frequently did.

He had also brought some family portraits with him and some of his favourite painter Titian's wonderful pictures, rich jewels, and curious clocks by Giovanni Torriano, who was called Juanelo, and abundant plate for the use of his chapel, himself, and his table, little enough, however, for one who had exchanged the kingdom of two worlds for this corner.

The valets, barbers, cooks, bakers, and clock-makers, Juanelo and his assistant ValÍn, lived in a different part of the cloisters from that inhabited by the monks. The doctor Mathys, the apothecary Overstraeten, and the brewer Dugsen lodged in the hospice of the convent, while the secretary Martin Gastelu, the keeper of the wardrobe MorÓn, and Luis Quijada were boarded in the best houses of the village of Cuacos, whence they came each day to the monastery.

Having arranged all this difficult installation, Quijada waited patiently for the Emperor to grant him permission to retire, as he had already done to the Lord Chamberlain La Chaux. But the Emperor gave no sign, and the days and weeks and months passed and Quijada poured out his ill-temper in letters to the secretary Juan VÁzquez, above all when he had to wait on the illustrious personages who came to visit the Emperor at Yuste and lodge them in his house at Cuacos. But all the same he did not cease to care for the Emperor with the love and watchfulness of a mother for a spoilt child, or to aid him at all times with the light of his good sense and great prudence in those important affairs in which the Emperor took part even after his retirement to Yuste, with his observations, his counsel, and not seldom with his orders.

But at last the Emperor made up his mind, and on the 28th of March he told Quijada that he might go to Villagarcia, if such were his pleasure, and there await orders. Quijada gladly promised this, and on the same day adds this postscript to his letter to Juan VÁzguez: "His Majesty has been very good. He has ordered me, of his own freewill, to go home, and says that he will tell me what to do. I assure your Honour that I shall not return to Estramadura to eat asparagus and truffles."

Quijada stopped in Valladolid to execute important commands of the Emperor's for the Princess Governess Juana, and from there he wrote on the 8th of April to his mysterious correspondent to whom alone he wrote about JeromÍn's affairs:

"It seems to H.M. that as to the service of his person and house, everything is in order and as it should be, and it is his pleasure to send me to my house, as I have been there so little since he came, and for many reasons my presence there is necessary."

He found nothing changed in Villagarcia, DoÑa Magdalena was still the model of all virtues and the helper of the poor, and JeromÍn the joy of the castle and the sun which shed light and movement and happiness around him. An extraordinary event occurred at this time to strengthen more and more the belief that JeromÍn was Quijada's son and to expel the bitter suspicion, on the contrary, from the noble heart of DoÑa Magdalena. One night, while all slept, a severe fire broke out in the castle, which spread to the rooms of DoÑa Magdalena and JeromÍn, which, as we have said, were contiguous. Quijada saw the great danger they both ran, and without hesitation dashed first to save the child and then afterwards DoÑa Magdalena.

All saw in this the love of the father triumphing over that of the husband; but DoÑa Magdalena, knowing how she was loved by him, saw the noble nature of Quijada overcoming this immense love, and thought how great must be the honour which JeromÍn's custody conferred on Quijada, that he should sacrifice to it what was dearest to him in the world—namely herself.

The selfishness of the Emperor could not long bear the absence of Quijada, and a messenger was sent to Villagarcia on the 10th of August, 1557, ordering him to return to Yuste. Quijada did not suspect the plot which the whole of the diminished Court had made against him, with the Emperor at its head. On the 17th of August the secretary Gastelu, who much esteemed Quijada, wrote with much mystery from Cuacos to the Secretary of State, Juan VÁzguez, "If Luis Quijada comes here and there is anything that you can do for him, will you do all you can to carry out all his wishes, for I can assure you that he well deserves it, and it is politic to gratify him now that it is a question of his staying here and bringing his wife—but this for yourself."

On the 23rd of August Quijada arrived at Yuste, and the next day, directly after dinner, the Emperor himself opened the subject, by asking him plainly to stay altogether with him, and to bring DoÑa Magdalena and all his household to Cuacos. The proposal frightened Quijada, and thinking, perhaps, first about JeromÍn, and then of the various pros and cons, he could give no answer. This same day, the 24th, by order of the Emperor, Gastelu wrote to the secretary VÁzguez, "Illustrious Sir, the Emperor put before SeÑor Luis Quijada, just after dinner to-day, the reasons for not leaving his service. Up till now he (Quijada) has not settled to stay by reason of the many difficulties in the way, not being able to do so alone, and the greater ones of bringing his wife here, and it being so necessary to be in her company. Things being so (the Emperor) has ordered me to write to your Honour that you should inform him what is given to D. Garcia de Toledo, as he is steward to the Lady Princess and also was so to the Serene Queen of Bohemia, when she was in those kingdoms, and also to the King, our Lord, and to the MarquÉs de Denia, who was so to the Queen, our Lady, that informed about everything, he may see what is just to do, and you may tell him your Honour's opinion, and that secretly, without anyone understanding what he wants to know, and that the answer should come at the first opportunity, because time presses; meanwhile the affair will be brought to an end, although I find some difficulty in doing so."

Six days later, on August 31st, Gastelu wrote again to the Secretary of State Juan VÁzguez, "The Lord Luis Quijada, after much talk over his going or staying, has settled, in spite of all the difficulties of bringing his wife and of her staying here, to conform to the will of H.M. and to please him and to stay here, as he has probably written to your Honour; and the emolument which he (the Emperor) has to give, waits the answer of what I wrote to your Honour by the said post. His Majesty is well, and very pleased about SeÑor Luis Quijada staying. Please God he and his wife will be so in time."

And when the note asked for from Juan VÁzguez arrived the Emperor himself wrote to Philip II:

"Son, on the 8th ult. I wrote last in answer to your letters, and I have heard that Ruy GÓmez received mine in Laredo. Since then Luis Quijada has arrived here, and I have talked to him about remaining and bringing his wife; I ordered Gastelu to do it as if I were there present, and although there were difficulties in the way he agreed, however, of which I am glad, as it is a thing I much wished. And desiring afterwards to talk to him about the salary, he excused himself and left it to me. And to find out more about this Juan VÁzguez was written to, that he might inform me what had been done as regards other persons who had served under similar conditions, and he has sent the report, of which I send you a copy. By it you will see the result of the enquiry: and as I do not know what Ruy GÓmez says about this, nor has he told me beyond sending me a copy of the letter which you wrote to him on June 10, in which reference is made to it, I write to you so that in case he should not have sailed, he should give you full information and his opinion about the money aid that should be given (to Quijada); taking into account that nothing has been given him since his arrival in this Kingdom, and the expenses he has and those he may have to incur in bringing his wife and household and establishing himself in the house at Cuacos; with the order that, if the said Ruy GÓmez has left, the messenger should go on and overtake him, or go wherever you are, that in view of all that is mentioned above, you may learn what I should do and thereupon tell me."

Once it was settled that Quijada should stay in the service of the Emperor and that DoÑa Magdalena and JeromÍn and all the household should come to the neighbouring village of Cuacos, prompt as usual he lost no time in finding the necessary accommodation. For this purpose he bought two more houses contiguous to the one he occupied, making them into one, and as comfortable as possible in such a wretched place. When everything was prepared, he set out for Villagarcia to fetch and accompany DoÑa Magdalena and his household on the arduous journey. He wrote from Yuste to his mysterious correspondent,

"Since August I have been here without going home. Now H.M. is willing that I should go and fetch my wife, and that we should establish ourselves, and although you must understand what a work it is to live here, I do it, in spite of the inconveniences, knowing that it is H.M.'s pleasure, so I go and shall return with the companion you know." As soon as he had returned from his journey and had established DoÑa Magdalena and the "companion" in Cuacos, he hastens to apprise the mysterious correspondent, sending the news this time in a prudent "the rest," the innocent JeromÍn being all unconscious of their supervision. "After having done what you asked in your letter in Valladolid and having found out everything and how everybody was there, I went home, leaving again as quickly as possible with DoÑa Magdalena and 'the rest,' and arrived here on the 1st inst. (July). We found the Emperor very well and fatter than when I left, and with a very good colour and in good spirits."

DoÑa Magdalena arrived at Cuacos on the 1st of July, as the preceding letter relates. The same day the Emperor sent her a courteous letter of welcome and a substantial present of "cecina," the meat of sheep fed only on bread, and other victuals with which the larder of Yuste overflowed, as Kings, Princes, Grandees and prelates disputed for the honour of supplying it, and each sent the best produce of their estates.

JeromÍn came with delight to Cuacos, with the hope of knowing the legendary hero of his martial dreams, the Emperor, whom he always painted to himself as wearing a plumed helmet on his head, his shining armour crossed by a red sash, riding the Andalusian horse caparisoned with velvet and gold, as he is painted in his famous Muhlberg picture by Titian, or as a thousand times Juan Galarza and Luis Quijada, eye-witnesses, had described him. The boy quite understood that in his humble position of an unknown child he would not see the Emperor close, or kiss his hand, or hear his voice, but he counted on seeing him from afar, and he knew from Quijada that the Emperor walked in the garden and sometimes even dined in the open air on the terrace of the house.

However, day followed day, and in spite of all his vigilance JeromÍn never caught a glimpse of the Emperor in the garden or on the terrace. When at last, one night after supper, DoÑa Magdalena called him and told him that his desire was to be more than fulfilled, as the next day he was to accompany her, as page of honour, to visit the Emperor, it gave the boy such a shock, and he turned so white, that the lady was frightened and took him in her arms. JeromÍn, throwing his round her neck, with the affection that he felt for her, told her ingenuously that the idea of speaking to the Emperor terrified him, and that he should not know what to answer.

The Emperor had invited DoÑa Magdalena to go and see him, and Quijada had arranged that JeromÍn should accompany her as page of honour, taking a present which DoÑa Magdalena was to offer. This visit must have taken place in the early days of July, as Gastelu writes on the 19th to VÁzguez and refers to it as a thing already long past. "Lord Luis Quijada," he says, "is well, and so is my Lady DoÑa Magdalena, whom H.M. was careful to order to visit him, and the other day she went to Yuste to kiss hands, and he was all kindness."

We have not been able to ascertain what DoÑa Magdalena's present was, but it was probably either gloves or handkerchiefs that were taken the next day to Yuste on a silver tray covered with embroidered damask. DoÑa Magdalena set out at three o'clock in her litter, JeromÍn riding beside her on the little Roman mule which Luis Quijada had inherited from his brother Álvaro de Mendoza; he was very smart in his new page's dress and looked like a little painted statuette.

Behind came Juan Galarza and the other squire mounted on good, strong mules. They alighted at the door of the church, according to Quijada's arrangement, and went to the High Altar, where he awaited them. Then he took them by the glazed door into the Emperor's bedroom; he handed JeromÍn the present on the tray of silver, and the two went into the Emperor's room, JeromÍn following.

The darkness added to the funereal aspect of the room, as the curtains had been drawn and the windows closed because of the heat. JeromÍn, as Quijada had ordered him, groped his way to the wall on one side, and there stood very straight, with the tray in his hand. At first he could distinguish nothing, except a sort of mountain of black things, a white spot in the centre, and heavy breathing like that of an asthmatic old man. The Emperor received DoÑa Magdalena "con todo favor," as Juan VÁzguez wrote to the secretary Gastelu. She was the only lady he received in Yuste except the Queens, DoÑa Elinor and DoÑa Maria; he sat up in his chair as much as his swollen knees allowed, and took off his thin silk cap. He gave his hand to be kissed, and, with all the grace and gallantry of his youth, then asked Quijada's permission to kiss the lady's. He ordered an arm-chair to be put near him, as if she had been a princess of the blood, and also ordered the curtains to be undrawn and the windows to be opened.

Then the light streamed in, and JeromÍn could see what remained of that great Emperor, that hero of many battles: a bent old man, with a white beard, a sunken head, and a tired voice. He was lost in the cushions of his enormous chair, his legs covered with a rich and light quilt stuffed with feathers, a present from his daughter Princess Juana. At his side on a perch a beautiful parrot, and on his knees he had two tiny Indian kittens, which had been sent him a short time before by his sister DoÑa Catalina, the great widowed Queen of Portugal.

JeromÍn remained awestruck before this ruin, till gaining courage he dared to look at him face to face. But at that moment the Emperor raised his head, and, as if by accident, his glance fell on the child. JeromÍn shut his eyes and shrank up as if he saw a mountain falling on him. There was the Emperor, the hero of so many battles—he saw the eagle's glance which still had genius and glory in it, and which also had, as it looked on the child, something strange and deep, which was neither stern nor indifferent, but rather gentle and loving, though mixed with something which oppressed and terrified JeromÍn, without his knowing why, because it was impossible for his innocent soul to perceive the dim shadows which remorse sheds on love.

All this only lasted a moment; DoÑa Magdalena spoke of her present, and Quijada ordered the child to approach and offer it. JeromÍn did so, trembling like quicksilver, and knelt before the Emperor, lifting up the tray to him. The Emperor took what was on the tray with many expressions of pleasure and thanks, and placed the present on the table. Then he stretched out his crippled hand for JeromÍn to kiss, and laid it for a moment on the fair head. At a sign from Luis Quijada, JeromÍn returned to his place.

Meanwhile one of the Emperor's kittens had got away and ran to JeromÍn and began to make friends and scramble up his legs. The Emperor laughed, and JeromÍn, very confused, gently pushed the kitten away with his foot to make it go back to its place. The Emperor said, "Carry it here." JeromÍn picked up the little animal and presented it to the Emperor on his knees.

The Emperor again gave his hand to be kissed, and placed it for a second time, for a moment, as if in benediction or as a caress, on JeromÍn's head. They left as they had come in. On entering the church JeromÍn pulled DoÑa Magdalena's skirt, and throwing himself into her arms began to cry. Astonished, she asked him what was the matter, and putting his little red mouth close to her ear, he whispered between his sobs, "I do not know, Lady Aunt, I do not know." Luis Quijada came and saw him crying, but did not ask the reason or reprove him, this time, for his tears.

JeromÍn never saw the Emperor near again; though from afar he did so in the garden, on the terrace, and sometimes in the church. On many of these occasions the Emperor also saw him, and then the boy felt the strange, earnest glance fixed upon him.

Neither did DoÑa Magdalena go again to visit the Emperor, but she had daily received signs of his favour, by the visits of authorised persons or by tactful presents. It was seldom that a day passed without the Emperor sending her some dish from his table, and no convoy of meat, preserves, fruit or sweetmeats arrived at Yuste without a substantial portion being reserved for her, which was sent with messages of the greatest kindness. These presents were as useful as honourable, since there was a great scarcity of provisions in Cuacos, and what was obtainable was not very good. On the 30th of August, 1558, JeromÍn saw the Emperor for the last time. The child was wandering about in the garden at Yuste with his crossbow and arrows, as he did sometimes by Quijada's own wish in his play-hours. The day was cold for summer in that part of the world, and although the glare from the sun was great on the terraces, the Emperor caused himself to be taken to the west one, and ordered that dinner should be brought there. Hidden in the orange grove that was in front of it JeromÍn watched him for a long time.

Luis Quijada and a groom of the chamber named Guillermo Van Male were serving him, on a little table made on purpose, which fixed on to the Emperor's chair. Van Male presented the dishes, Quijada carved them, and four servants brought and took away the courses. D. Mattys was absent; he should have inspected the viands, but was away in Jarandilla. The confessor, Fr. Juan de Regla, was standing before the Emperor, austere and grave as one of ZurbarÁn's Carthusians, reading as usual a chapter from St. Bernard.

The Emperor ate little and without appetite, and then, in spite of the glare and against the wishes of Quijada, he composed himself there to take his short siesta. He was awakened by the arrival of Garcilaso de la Vega, who came from Flanders to treat with the Dowager-Queen of Hungary to induce her to return to govern the States. The conversation lasted for more than an hour, and at four o'clock the Emperor blew his golden whistle, complaining of a severe headache. A change had come over him and he was shivering. They put him to bed at once, and when the doctor came back that night from Jarandilla, where the Emperor had sent him to see the Conde de Oropesa, he was not pleased with the Emperor's looks. Nor could he have been so himself, as that night he expressed to Quijada his wish to add a codicil to the will he had made in Brussels on the 8th of June, 1554.

This desire did not frighten Quijada, as the Emperor had often expressed the same wish before; but the continued fever, delirium and collapse did alarm him, and on the 1st of September he wrote to the Princess Juana, begging her to send as quickly as possible Queen Maria's old doctor, Corneille Baersdorp, who was staying with her at Cigales.

The Emperor felt himself sick unto death, and confessed and communicated on the 3rd of September, fearing some new and mortal seizure would take him unawares. Dr. Corneille arrived from Cigales on the 8th, as did also Garcilaso de la Vega, bringing the welcome news that Queen Maria had accepted the government of the Flemish States. The Emperor, however, did not wish to see him until he had signed the codicil, which he did on the 9th.

He conferred a long time the next day with Garcilaso and the last joy of his life was knowing that his sister, DoÑa Maria, had, at last, given in to what he so much desired. He asked with great interest for the "Regente" Figueroa, and the Archbishop of Toledo, Fr. BartolomÉ de Carranza, who had come from Flanders with Garcilaso, and was expected at Yuste. He then learnt that the "Regente" was ill at Medina del Campo, and that the Archbishop, knowing nothing of the Emperor's illness, had gone to Cigales to confer, by Philip II's wish, with Queen Maria, and was coming to Yuste from there.

This conversation tired the Emperor very much, and it was the last time that he worried about the things of this world. On the 19th the doctors found him so much worse that they spoke to Quijada about the necessity of administering Extreme Unction. Quijada looked angry on hearing this, as he was one of those men of violent character who always show their sorrow by becoming cross and disagreeable, and he told them not to leave off feeling the Emperor's pulse, and to put it off until the last moment. This last moment seemed to have arrived at nine o'clock that night, and the steward summoned Fr. Juan de Regla and three other monks in a great hurry. He went to the Emperor first and said, "Your Majesty has twice asked for Extreme Unction. If you please, it is here, as your Majesty has health and sense to receive and enjoy it." The Emperor replied, "Yes, and let it be at once." The curtains of his bed were then drawn, and Fr. Juan de Regla gave him Extreme Unction, aided by three of the principal monks in the convent. The next morning, the 20th, the dying man somewhat rallied, and at eight o'clock ordered everyone to leave his room except Luis Quijada.

He was already almost without strength and was propped up by pillows. On account of the heat he could only bear a shirt and a thin silk quilt which covered him to his chest. Sadly Luis Quijada knelt at his pillow, and the Emperor, in a feeble voice but with all his senses, talked for half an hour. Here are his exact words as the same Luis Quijada wrote them to Philip II in his letter of the 30th of September, 1558:

"Tuesday, before receiving the Holy Sacrament, he called me and sent away his confessor and the rest, and I kneeling down, he said, 'Luis Quijada, I see I am ending little by little: for which I give much thanks to God, because it is His Will. You will tell the King, my son, to take care of these servants in general, those that have served me here until death, and that he should use Gilaone (Guillerno Wykesloot, the barber) as he wishes, and order that in this house no guests should be allowed to enter.' What he said about his wishes for me I do not care to say, being an interested party. Also he wished me to say other things to Y.M. which I will tell you when God brings me to Y.M. Please God it may be with the happiness all desire."

In this last conversation that the Emperor had with Quijada he left a strange remembrance to JeromÍn. He commissioned his steward after his death to give to the child JeromÍn, as his property and for his use, the old mule which he rode on, the blind pony he had kept, and the little mule that with the other two animals formed all his stud.

At midday the Archbishop of Toledo, Fr. BartolomÉ de Carranza, arrived in Yuste, a robust old man with a loud, disagreeable voice, and long, ill-kept white hair. He rode on a white mule, and was wrapped in a brown garment over his Dominican habit, and over that wore a crumpled cloak with a magnificent pectoral cross, a present from Mary Tudor, Queen of England. His enormous suite followed him to Cuacos, but he came alone to Yuste with the Dominicans who accompanied him, Fr. Pedro de Sotomayor and Fr. Diego JimÉnez. The Archbishop knelt when he reached the Emperor's bedside and kissed his hand. The dying man looked at him for a long time without speaking, and then ordered that a chair should be given him, and asked for news of the King, his son, whom the Archbishop had left in Flanders; but after a few words the Emperor interrupted him abruptly, and ordered him to go and rest in his inn. Charles mistrusted the Archbishop because the first suspicions had come to his ears of that heresy which shortly landed the unlucky old man in prison, persecuted by some, defended by others, and discussed by all, even to our times.

So the Archbishop went to dine in Luis Quijada's house at Cuacos, where DoÑa Magdalena was awaiting him. The grave condition of the Emperor had made a great sensation in the village; the whole neighbourhood was to be found in the street, making a cordon from Yuste to the church of the place, where continual prayer was offered before the Blessed Sacrament.

DoÑa Magdalena and JeromÍn never rested; since dawn messengers had never ceased coming from Yuste with news, and since the same hour the noble lady came and went from the oratory, where she prayed and wept, to the parlour, where she received the messengers and made preparations for the arrival of the Archbishop, whom she expected from minute to minute. JeromÍn, nervous and trembling, could not keep still for an instant; at times he wanted to cry, at others to shut himself up in the oratory with DoÑa Magdalena and pray, or to dash off to Yuste, and, if it were by main force, to reach the Emperor's room and gaze once more on that pallid face, its snowy beard surrounding it like a fringe of silver. The boy had never seen death, or heard it alluded to except as happening on the field of battle, and it seemed to him like killing by treason that so great an Emperor should die in his bed, and that to annihilate so glorious an existence, thunder and lightning and stars would be necessary, that the elements should war together and the whole earth be convulsed.

At four o'clock the Archbishop arranged with his suite to return to Yuste, and then an idea occurred to JeromÍn. Without saying a word to anyone, he saddled the little Roman mule himself and went to the convent among the Archbishop's following. His presence surprised no one, as he was thought to be Luis Quijada's page, and without any difficulty he went to the black hung room next to the chamber where the Emperor lay dying. He found several monks there, the prelate, Juan de Ávila, the Conde de Oropesa, D. Francisco de Toledo, his brother, and Diego de Toledo, uncle to both.

Luis Quijada hastened to meet the Archbishop and came face to face with JeromÍn. The great heart of the steward seemed to come into his mouth and even his eyes to moisten when he saw him. With much love and kindness he came towards the frightened child, and drawing him out of the room, begged him to go back to Cuacos to the side of DoÑa Magdalena. The boy obeyed without a word, hanging his head and casting a look at the room where his hero was dying. He saw nothing; the black curtains were drawn, and between them could only be seen the foot of the enormous bed and, over the crippled limbs, the black silk coverlid. But he could hear the difficult breathing of the dying man.

When JeromÍn returned, overcome, to Cuacos, he found DoÑa Magdalena in the oratory, saying the prayers for the dying, again and again, with her ladies and servants. He knelt in a corner amongst them, and there remained for hours and hours. At ten o'clock sleep, that invincible friend of children, overcame him, and obliged DoÑa Magdalena to put him, dressed as he was, in her own bed, promising to wake him at the supreme moment. The lady sat at the head of the bed leaning against it, inside the curtains, telling her beads. JeromÍn slept uneasily, with a sad expression on his little white face, heaving deep sighs. DoÑa Magdalena looked at him, anxious also and astonished. All at once, for the first time a strong suspicion crossed her mind; she stopped praying, looking earnestly at the child, and leant over him as if to kiss his forehead, and then kissed his little hands.

At this moment the big bell of Yuste tolled solemnly in the silent night. DoÑa Magdalena sat up frightened and stretched out her neck to listen, with her hands joined. Another bell tolled and then another. There was no doubt, it was the passing bell. DoÑa Magdalena hesitated for a moment, and then gently woke the sleeping child. Clinging to her neck he asked, terrified, "Is he dead?" "Pray, my son, pray," she answered.

And, linked together, they prayed the psalm of the dead, "Out of the deep I call."

The grief of Luis Quijada at the death of the CÆsar was so great that the anonymous monk of Yuste, who was an eyewitness of all these events, writes as follows: "It happened that the Archbishop having left with the other lords, as I have said above, to write to the King, our Lord, about the death of his father, there remained in the room where the body of the dead Emperor lay, the three men beloved by H.M., the MarquÉs de Miraval, Luis Quijada and Martin GastelbÚ (Gazletu), who did and said such things in their sorrow for the death of H.M. that those who did not know them might have judged them wrongly. They shouted, they cried, they beat their hands and their heads against the walls, they seemed beside themselves, and so they were, at seeing their lord die, who had brought them to such honours, and whom they so tenderly loved; they said much in praise of CÆsar, referring to his virtues. Such were their cries and shouts that they woke all the household of H.M., and all behaved in the same manner, till they were turned out of the room where four monks remained, who embalmed the body, as I said above." This excess of sorrow no doubt produced a certain nervous irritation in Luis Quijada, and made him harder and more severe than ever for a long while, and perhaps also less prudent. Only as regards JeromÍn he seemed just the contrary, not by his care and vigilance, for they could not have been greater than before, but by showing the affection and regard which he had kept hidden.

For three days very solemn services were celebrated in Yuste, and Luis Quijada presided over everything, dressed in a cloak of black baize and a mourning hood which almost completely hid his face. During all these days JeromÍn was at his side, also dressed in a cloak and hood which only left uncovered those blue eyes which saw and scrutinised everything. "It certainly astonished us," wrote the nameless monk of Yuste, "how he had the strength to remain standing so long."

It happened that on the first day of these services Quijada saw the page of the MarquÉs de Miraval bring a chair for his master into the church, and ordered him to take it out. The page answered that his master was ill, and that it was necessary for him to take it in. To which Quijada replied, "Then let him stop outside; I will not allow anyone to be seated before the Emperor, my Lord, alive or dead."

JeromÍn asked Quijada if he might have the Emperor's parrot and one of the kittens, the other having died a short time before, and with real pleasure Luis Quijada brought them to Cuacos and placed them in the child's care, until they were claimed by Princess Juana, who had been notified of their existence. And such weight had this august "ZapirÓn"^[3] with the austere steward that in a letter to the Secretary of State, Juan VÁzguez, he adds this curious postscript, "This letter was written two days ago, and as I had much to do, and as I wished to wait till they had all gone, I did not send it. To-day they have finished taking out all his baggage. Your Honour will forgive the paper being cut, because the devil of a kitten upset the inkpot on the other sheet."

Luis Quijada stayed in Cuacos until the end of November, as it took all that time to finish the arduous task of arranging the Emperor's house, making inventories, sending away servants, settling accounts, and paying debts. DoÑa Magdalena took this opportunity of going with JeromÍn to the sanctuary of Our Lady of Guadaloupe, which was not far off. While she was away something happened which surprised and displeased Quijada, though he had had warning of it a long time back.

It was that none of the many personages who stayed with him in Cuacos, or the monks of the convent who often came there, or any of the thousand people who, for one reason or another, arrived there during the stay of the Emperor, could fail to notice the attractive little figure of JeromÍn, which had so much native charm, or the strange position that he occupied in the Quijada household. Many suppositions were formed and many remarks were made, and so serious were some, and to such exalted circles did others reach, that one day, when Quijada least expected it, he received a letter from the Secretary of State, Juan VÁzguez, writing on behalf of Princess Juana, asking him bluntly if it were true that the Emperor had left a natural son, who had been for years in his care, because H.M. wished to provide for him, if such were the case. Quijada was much perturbed at this very important question, and hastened to answer Juan VÁzguez on the 18th of October. "Regarding what your Honour says about the boy in my charge, it is true that a friend entrusted him to me years ago, but there is no reason to think that he is H.M.'s son, as your Honour says has been put about here, for neither in his will, a copy of which he had and made Gastelu read in his presence to us, his confessor and me, nor in the codicil which he afterwards made, is there mention of this, and this being so I do not know what more I can answer."

Not content with this, Quijada wrote from Cuacos, as if to put himself right with his unknown correspondent in Flanders, the only person to whom he mentioned anything about JeromÍn. "Twenty days after the death of H.M., Juan VÁzguez wrote to me from the Very Serene Princess that I should tell her if it were true that I had in my charge a child, wishing to make me understand that it was said to be H.M.'s, and that I should tell her secretly or publicly if it were so, because, if true, she would endeavour to fulfil any wishes left regarding him. To which I answered that I had the boy of a gentleman, a friend of mine, who had given him to me years ago, and that H.M. having mentioned him neither in his will nor in the codicil, there was reason enough for treating it as nonsense, and that I did not know what else to answer publicly or privately."

Juan VÁzguez returned to the charge, and the steward, who was already put out, answered, alluding to the secretary's erroneous idea, in spite of Quijada's assurance to the contrary, that the Emperor, months before, was arranging the house of the Archbishop in AlcalÁ to go there, and to leave Yuste. "It certainly appears to me that your Honour goes on about this boy as if it were as certain as that H.M. was arranging the house in AlcalÁ so as to go there. Will your Honour ask the agent the value of, and what I said to him about, a certain annuity that I wish to purchase for this child?"

But as Quijada when passing Valladolid on his way to Villagarcia found on all sides the same rumour, of which VÁzguez had sent him the echo, and was annoyed by direct and indirect questions, he wrote this time without circumlocution to the unknown Flemish correspondent, who was none other than His Catholic Majesty, King Philip II:

"I find all that concerns the person Y.M. knows that I have in my care, so public here, that I am frightened, and still more so by the particulars I hear. I am alarmed lest the Very Serene Princess should press me to tell her what I know, which I am not at liberty to do. I have decided to be silent and not to answer more than I did the first time, as I told Y.M. from Yuste. H.H. is so gracious that up to now she has said no word to me; so I shall answer no one who asks more than that I am ignorant of what people say; but I am also aware that the Very Serene Princess almost certainly knows the truth, from what I hear. But H.M.'s wish, as you know, was that it should be kept secret until your coming, and that afterwards what Y.M. commands should be done. I have made no more demonstration than in the Emperor's lifetime; but I am very careful that he should learn and be taught the things necessary for his age and his rank, since it is very important that every pains should be taken with him because of the way in which he was brought up before he came under my charge. So I thought that I had better advise Y.M. of what was happening and of the Emperor's intentions, so that Y.M. should understand and say what your wishes are. Also he has had, these ten days, a very severe double tertian fever; but blessed be God! when I came yesterday from my house, it had left him and he was out of danger."

D. Philip was grateful for this loyalty in Quijada, and answered with his own hand that the secret should be strictly kept, as the deceased Emperor had wished, until he himself arrived in Spain, which would be very shortly; but Quijada was not to be alarmed by the rumours as the fact was already public in Flanders. To the will that the Emperor had made in Brussels was added a sealed note with this superscription in his own writing: "No one is to open this writing but the Prince my son, and failing him, my grandson D. Carlos; and failing him, he or she who should be my heir according to my will, when it is opened."

Inside the envelope was the following declaration, signed by the Emperor and sealed with his private seal:

"Besides what is contained in my will, I say and declare, that while I was in Germany, after I was widowed, I had by an unmarried woman, a natural son called JeromÍn, and my intention has been and is, for various reasons which lead me to this decision, that he shall be well guided, that of his free and spontaneous will he shall take the habit in some community of reformed friars if he inclines to it without any urging or force whatever. But if he cannot be thus guided and would rather follow the secular life, it is my wish and command that he should be given an income in the usual way each year of from 20,000 to 30,000 ducats from the Kingdom of Naples, apportioning to him places and vassals with the said income. All this, the appointing of the aforesaid and the amount of the income aforesaid shall be as the Prince, my son, thinks best, to whom I commend it; and failing him, as it appears best to my grandson, the Infante D. Carlos, or to the other person who, according to this my will, should be my heir at the time it is opened. And if the said JeromÍn is not then already placed in the state I desire, he shall enjoy the said income and places all the days of his life, and after him his heirs and legitimate successors and descendants, and whatever calling the said JeromÍn shall embrace, I charge the said Prince, my son, and my grandson and whoever should be my heir, as I have said, when this my will is opened, that they shall honour it and cause it to be honoured, and pay him the respect that is seemly, and that they shall cause to be kept, fulfilled and executed all that is contained in this writing. The which I sign with my name and hand, and close and seal it with my little private seal, and it is to be kept and put into effect as a clause of my aforesaid will. Done in Brussels the 6th of June, 1564. Son or grandson, or whoever at the time that this my will and writing is opened, and according to it is my heir, if you do not know where JeromÍn is, you may learn it from Adrian, a groom of my chamber, or, in case of his death, from Oger, the porter of my chamber, in order that you may act towards him according to the above."

To this very important declaration was added a duplicate of the writing signed by Francisco de Massy and Ana de Medina, which had served Carlo Prevost to reclaim JeromÍn at LeganÉs four years before.

JeromÍn quickly recovered from his fever, and the happy, peaceful, regular life flowed on at Villagarcia as before the disturbing interlude of Yuste and Cuacos. Luis Quijada faithfully kept the Emperor's secret, according to Philip's commands, and the very existence of JeromÍn, once more shut up behind the walls of Villagarcia, seemed completely forgotten.

But there is no accounting for the memory of an inquisitive woman, however discreet and prudent she may be, and if few outdid the Governess of Spain, Princess Juana, in virtue, prudence and discretion, few had more curiosity, or better means of gratifying it at their command.

As no one had found out from Luis Quijada who JeromÍn really was, it occurred to her that she might obtain the information from DoÑa Magdalena, and with this object in view she sent a missive to Villagarcia about the 15th of May, begging her to come to see the Auto and to bring the boy she had with her, in the disguise in which he lived.

The Auto to which the Princess Juana alluded was the celebrated Auto da Fe which took place in Valladolid on the 21st of May, 1559, at which Dr. Augustin Cazalla and thirty of his heretic disciples were condemned. This Lutheran conspiracy had been discovered many months before during the lifetime of the Emperor, who had urged and begged DoÑa Juana and the Inspector-General D. Fernando de ValdÉs, Archbishop of Seville, to mete out prompt and severe punishment to the offenders.

There lived then in Valladolid, at No. 13 of the Street of the Silversmiths, a certain Juan GarcÍa, a silversmith by trade. For some time his wife had noticed that he was absent-minded and irritable, and that he pretended to go to bed early and then went out again. Being a brave, decided woman, she disguised herself one night and followed him, supposing some intrigue. When Juan GarcÍa reached the street now called after Dr. Cazalla, he at once knocked at the door of a house between what are now cavalry barracks and the old apothecary's shop in the Square of St. Michel. The door was opened with great caution, and the woman distinctly heard a password which seemed to be "Chinela," and Juan GarcÍa answered "Cazalla," on which the door opened and he went in. The wife remained spellbound, and her astonishment grew as she noticed that, singly and by twos, men and women came from both ends of the street. The same ceremony took place, and they disappeared into the mysterious house, which was none other than that of DoÑa Leonora de Vibero, mother of Dr. Cazalla. Being, as we have said, a resolute woman, on seeing a very devout woman (the Juana SÁnchez who afterwards committed suicide in the prison of the Inquisition by cutting her throat with scissors) approaching, she followed secretly, gave the password, and entered behind SÁnchez into a large, ill-lighted room, where she saw and heard Dr. Cazalla explain to more than seventy people the doctrines of the Lutherans which he had brought back from Germany. She understood at once that she was in a conventicle of heretics, and horrified, but not losing her presence of mind, she left quietly and the same morning informed her confessor of all that she had seen and heard. Whether he was infected with the same doctrines or did not much believe the woman, he only told her not to worry over the matter. However, the same day she warned the Grand Inquisitor himself, and put the threads of the plot into his hands. Following them with much prudence and precaution, he found the plot so widespread that when in prison Cazalla rightly said, "If they had waited four months to persecute us, we should have been as numerous as they are, if six months, we should have done for them as they have for us." The affair made a great stir throughout Spain, and it is calculated that 200,000 people flocked to Valladolid to be present at the Auto da Fe, which was to take place as the crowning act of the drama on Trinity Sunday, the 21st May, 1559.

Luis Quijada was party to all this, as he had been sent by the Emperor from Yuste to the Princess and the Inquisitor to urge the swift and severe punishment of the heretics. As a man of his time, a fervent Spanish Catholic and a politician educated in Germany, Quijada thought that only severe warnings would stop Protestantism from entering Spain, and with it the breaking up of the kingdom and probably the end of the monarchy. So it appeared to him a good lesson for JeromÍn to go to the Auto da Fe, and he insisted that DoÑa Magdalena should accept the invitation of the Princess and go to Valladolid with the child and his niece, DoÑa Mariana de Ulloa, heiress of his brother, the MarquÉs de la Mota, who was at Villagarcia at that time.

So DoÑa Magdalena set out with her niece and with the retainers suitable to such illustrious ladies, and arrived very early on the morning of the 20th of May, the day before the Auto. They lodged in the house of the Conde de Miranda, and to avoid tiresome visits and awkward questions, the prudent lady sent JeromÍn out and about the streets all day to see the preparations for the ceremony with her squire Juan Galarza. JeromÍn went off delighted, and certainly nothing was ever seen like the streets of Valladolid on that 20th day of May. So thronged were they with people that it was hardly possible for the familiars of the Holy Office, who ever since the morning had been making the usual proclamation, to force their way through the crowd. The familiars went on horseback, emblems of their office in their hands, preceded and followed by "alguaciles," and surrounded by criers who announced at the street corners the two usual proclamations, the first forbidding from that moment until the next day the use of arms defensive or offensive under the pain of excommunication and the confiscation of the said arms. Equally was prohibited by the second proclamation, from that time until one hour after the executions, the circulation of carriages, or litters, chairs, horses, or mules in the streets where the procession was to pass, or in the Plaza Mayor, where was the scaffold.

To prevent people entering the square there was a double row of guards. The finishing touches were being given to the enormous scaffold where the Auto was to be held, that is to say the reading of the evidence and the sentences, the only part of the function at which the Court and the more refined portion of the public were present. Away beyond the gates guards were also keeping a space on the Great, or Parade, Ground called the "Quemadero," or the place of burning. To execute the sentences fifteen small platforms were being made for an equal number of prisoners. These platforms were very small and rested on the faggots which were to make the fire, and above them rose a stake with its pillory, like a modern one. To this the prisoner was tied and killed before being burnt, as they were not burnt alive except in rare cases of blasphemy and impenitence. The whole way from the Campo Grande to the Plaza Mayor; and from there to the street of Pedro Barrueco, now called Bishop Street, where stood the prisons and houses of the Holy Office, there was not a corner or square without seats covered in black, for which the enormous prices of 12, 13, and even 15 reales were paid. In all the squares and at many of the cross roads pulpits also were erected, covered in black, where every order of friars preached each day to the enormous crowd which never ceased moving, all in mourning, all sad, very similar in appearance to the scene which used to be general, and still is common, in many places in Spain on Good Friday. The official mourning, the real compunction of some, and the affected piety of others covered the indifference of the many, and gave to the whole concourse an appearance of sadness, even of terror, well in keeping with the terrible scene which was to be enacted. At four o'clock the sermons ceased, and in the streets, windows and balconies the crowd grew greater. The traditional procession called "of the Green Cross" began to leave the chapel. First walked all the religious communities of Valladolid and its neighbourhood, the friars two by two, holding lighted wax torches. Then the commissaries, clerks and familiars of the Holy Office, then the high officers of the Tribunal, with the secretaries, mayor and attorney-general, all carrying lighted candles. Last of all this immense procession, a Dominican friar carried under a canopy of black velvet a great cross of green wood covered with crape. The choirs of the chapel intoned the hymn Vexilla regis prodeunt, which all the people answered, alternating the verses. At the street corners from time to time the voice of some friar was to be heard, imploring Heaven in vehement language to grant repentance to the prisoners, which the people answered with ejaculations, groans and prayers. It was rumoured that among the fifty condemned men only one, the Bachelor of Arts, Herreruelos, remained obstinate and impenitent.

The procession passed slowly and solemnly through the principal streets, and late at night found its way back to the Plaza Mayor, where the scaffold was now finished. Then was prepared an altar on which the Green Cross was solemnly placed with twelve lighted wax candles. Four Dominican monks and a company of halberdiers were to watch it all night.

While JeromÍn was going about the streets of Valladolid with more amusement than astonishment or compunction, DoÑa Magdalena was congratulating herself on having sent him away from the house.

Shortly after her arrival she received a polite message from DoÑa Leonor MascareÑes, lady to Princess Juana, announcing that at half-past three in the afternoon she would visit her in the name of H.H. the Very Serene Princess Governess, and would have the honour of kissing hands in her name. DoÑa Magdalena replied with the pompous courtesy of those times, that all hours would be good to receive so signal a favour, and that she, DoÑa Leonor's humble servant, returned the honour, kissing her hands on her knees.

At the hour fixed, and with courtly punctuality, DoÑa Leonor arrived with her ladies, pages and squires. She came on foot, as sedan-chairs were forbidden by the proclamation, and in mourning, as the circumstances demanded, with a cloth skirt in Castillian fashion, a crape shawl, gloves and very high black clogs. DoÑa Leonor was already past sixty, of a great Portuguese family, and for her virtues, merits and talents was rightly one of the most respected ladies of the Court. She had come to Spain as one of the ladies of the Empress Isabel, wife of the defunct Emperor Charles V, then was governess to Philip II, and afterwards to Prince Carlos, who was committed to her care by the same Philip II with these notable words, "This child has no mother; be his as you were mine."

DoÑa Magdalena descended to receive her with all the household at the foot of the staircase, and here the ladies exchanged the first courtesies. DoÑa Magdalena conducted her to the parlour, and then wished to give her a high seat, while she sat on the carpet; but DoÑa Leonor would not consent to this, and tried also to sit on the floor. Each went on insisting that the other should have the high seat and the other kept on refusing it, until, after this battle of politeness, both ladies remained seated on great cushions of equal height.

Then DoÑa Magdalena caused a collation of sweetmeats, fruits and drinks to be brought, and offered half a dozen pairs of gloves scented with ambergris to DoÑa Leonor in a little box.

The first compliments and courtesies over, DoÑa Leonor spread out her fan so as to exclude the duennas who were at the end of the room beyond the dais, and said in DoÑa Magdalena's ear, as naturally as possible, that H.H. the Serene Princess would be pleased if she would kindly arrange an opportunity the next day for her to make the acquaintance of her brother.

DoÑa Magdalena had expected this from the moment of her arrival, and with ingenuous but well-calculated simplicity she told the truth, point by point. That she did not know what H.H. meant. That the child JeromÍn, to whom no doubt she alluded, was certainly given into the care of her lord and husband Luis Quijada five years before, as the son of a great friend whose name he could not reveal to her. As was natural (and with noble dignity DoÑa Magdalena accentuated these words) she had never tried to talk to her husband about the origin of this child, or to allude by a single word to what he had first written to her from Brussels. That various suspicions had at times come into her mind, but that she had been able to stifle them as a Christian, for fear of forming a judgment without any proof, which would doubtless be rash; and as to the rumours which went about during the child's stay at Yuste, she had never listened to them, and certainly had never confirmed them. Here DoÑa Magdalena ceased speaking, and, as if by mutual consent, the two ladies fanned themselves in silence for some time. The Portuguese was as good as she was clever, and she needed no more to understand that her exploring expedition was at an end. Her noble nature could appreciate this simple account of DoÑa Magdalena's, the wife's dignity, the lady's delicacy, and the Christian's absolute rectitude, and her native perspicacity, sharpened by years at Court, made her understand that DoÑa Magdalena knew no more about JeromÍn, nor would it be possible to extract another word beyond what Luis Quijada had told everyone.

However, DoÑa Leonor wished to fulfil all her mistress's commission, and asked with much delicacy if it would be possible to see the child, because H.H. wished to be prepared, in some degree, for the meeting which was to take place the next day, that surprise or fear should not make her do something imprudent.

DoÑa Magdalena answered that she was sincerely sorry, but she could not gratify H.H., because the child JeromÍn had gone out with a squire to see the procession of the Green Cross, and she did not expect that he would be back in time; but if it would be of service to H.H. she would be careful to let her know as much as was prudent.

It seemed most prudent to DoÑa Magdalena not to say a word to JeromÍn about the occurrence, or prematurely to arouse fantastic or ambitious ideas in his mind which was sleeping peacefully, but to let it rest in quiet and allow the boy's innocence and natural vivacity to inspire them, or as the Divine Majesty should ordain.

All the stars in the sky were shining when DoÑa Magdalena and her niece left her house, she holding JeromÍn by the hand, dressed as a peasant, as the Princess had arranged. The two ladies were covered by ample black shawls which almost hid their faces, and were dressed underneath in mourning, but also with jewels, as was the custom of ladies at Court. Accompanied by very trustworthy servants, and following the same railed-off way as the prisoners, they arrived without much difficulty at the Plaza Mayor, in spite of the great crowds.

It was not yet half-past four in the morning, and already among the seething mass of humanity there was not an empty spot, except in the centre of the platform, where the prisoners were to be placed, and the passage, or wide balcony, of the Casas Consistoriales, which was reserved for the royalties and their numerous suite. At the extreme end of this passage the Princess had ordered that a good seat should be kept for DoÑa Magdalena, calculating that, as she must naturally pass by there to get to the throne, she could stop and speak to DoÑa Magdalena and see the child without attracting too much attention. DoÑa Magdalena had also made her plans: she made JeromÍn sit on the ground between her chair and that of DoÑa Mariana, and covered his little person completely in the lady's shawl, so that no one passing would notice the presence of the child. JeromÍn, very much amused, put out his little head from among the folds of the shawl, and looked between the ironwork of the balcony, asking a thousand questions about what he saw and what he hoped to see. In the centre of the balcony of the Consistory, which ran all along the front, there were two rich canopies of maroon velvet and lace of frosted silver and gold, with two large thrones under them for the Princess Governess and D. Carlos. Right and left the balcony was divided into stands destined for the Councillors, the Chancellory, the University, the Grandees, the ladies of the Palace and the servants of the Princes. In the first of these stands, on the entrance side, was where JeromÍn and the two ladies were seated.

In front of the Consistory, and back to back with the convent of San Francisco, the magnificent, high scaffold was raised, enclosed by balustrades and railings. It consisted of two stories, an upper and a lower one, in the form of a triangle. In the centre of the front was the altar, on which the Green Cross had been placed the night before between two tapers of white wax whose light paled before that of the dawn. The four Dominicans and the company of halberdiers were still guarding it. Right and left of the altar there were steps for the condemned and a pulpit for the preacher. The platform underneath was destined for the ministers of the Holy Office, and at each end had two tribunes for the reading of the trials and sentences, and another in the middle, but much taller, from which each prisoner heard his sentence read.

From the scaffold ran a sort of enclosure of wood, very similar to those that are used to bring bulls into towns with safety, which stretched to the prisons of the Inquisition, to keep the way clear for the prisoners. The rest of the square was covered with more than two hundred small stands, let to the curious, which at five in the morning already could not hold another person. At this hour the royal guard arrived on foot, opening a path among the packed crowd for the royal suite. First came slowly and solemnly the Council of Castille, then the Grandees, the Constable and Admiral among them, the MarquÉses de Astorga and Denia, the Condes de Miranda, Osorno, Nieva, MÓdica, SadaÑa, Monteagudo, Lerma, Ribadeo, and Andrade. D. GarcÍa de Toledo, tutor to the Prince, the Archbishops of Santiago and Seville, and the Bishops of Palencia and Ciudad Rodrigo, which last was the famous and worthy D. Pedro de la Gasca.

The Princess's ladies followed in two rows, all in mourning, but richly adorned with jewels, and behind them, as if presiding over them, the MarquÉs de Sarria, Lord Steward to the Princess, and DoÑa Leonor MascareÑes, who was, or was then acting as, Camarera Mayor.

Then came two mace-bearers with golden maces on their shoulders, four kings-at-arms with dalmatics of crimson velvet embroidered, front and back, with the royal arms. The Conde de BuendÍa with a naked sword, and, immediately behind him, Princess Juana and Prince Carlos; she dressed in a skirt of mourning stripe, shawl and head-dress of black crape, a bodice of satin, white gloves and a black and gold fan in her hand; he with cloak and jacket also striped, woollen stockings, velvet breeches, a cloth cap, sword and gloves. The procession was closed by the royal guard on horseback with drums and fifes.

In this order the suite entered the Consistory and filed past DoÑa Magdalena in the passage, each to go to their respective places. The lady stood up to let them pass, hiding her niece with her person. DoÑa Mariana was sitting with JeromÍn on her knees, covered entirely by the shawl. She had told him, to cover this manoeuvre, that children were not allowed in this place, and that as soon as the Court had passed she would put him where he would see everything. JeromÍn obeyed without any outward sign of suspicion, but remembering, perhaps, his adventures in the convent of Descalzos, where such care had been taken not to let a certain great person see him.

When the Princess passed DoÑa Magdalena in the narrow passage, she stopped for a moment and held out her hand; the lady kissed it kneeling, then the Princess said quickly and softly, "Where is the wrapped-up one?"

Then DoÑa Magdalena opened the shawl and JeromÍn appeared, cap in hand, the fair hair all untidy from the shawl, and with an attractive look of annoyance on the pretty face which added to his natural charm. A ray of tenderness illuminated the Princess's beautiful face, and, without remembering who she was or where she was, she embraced him, kissing him several times on both cheeks.

Prince Carlos had also stopped, and looked with astonishment at the little peasant his aunt was kissing, but when he saw the Princess make as if she would take the child with her to the throne, he reproved her harshly and angrily, according to his usual bad habit.

JeromÍn, on hearing him, abruptly left the Princess, and clinging on to DoÑa Magdalena's skirt said, much ruffled, "I prefer to stay with my aunt."

The Princess insisted; D. Carlos began again to chide her, and JeromÍn, looking him up and down from head to foot, said again with greater firmness, "I prefer to stay with my aunt."

All this took less time to happen than it takes to tell, but it was long enough for many people to understand, and for the gossips to guess the riddle. From one end to the other of the balcony, and then into the square, the news spread that a son of the dead Emperor was there in the Consistory, in one of the Court seats.

The arrival of the prisoners completely distracted everyone's attention, and so absorbed were they that it seemed as if that dense crowd hardly breathed.

Then clearly were heard the bells of the Holy Office, which tolled sadly to announce that the prisoners had started, and the first thing to appear in the square was the parochial cross of Salvador, with a black handle, and two acolytes with candlesticks. Then came two long rows of devout penitents with lighted torches, among whom were noble gentlemen and a few Grandees. Between these two lines, and about thirty paces from the parochial cross, came the Attorney-General of the Holy Office, JerÓnimo de RamÍrez, carrying the standard of the Holy Inquisition, of crimson damask with the black and white shield of the Order of St. Dominic and the Royal Arms embroidered in gold; on its two extremities these inscriptions could be read: Exsurge Domine, et judica causam tuam—Ad deripiendos inimicos fidei.

Behind the standard followed the prisoners, about a dozen steps one from the other, and guarded each by two familiars of the Holy Office and four soldiers. The first was D. Augustin Cazalla, cleric, preacher and chaplain to His Majesty; a man of about fifty, now weak and shrunken, and stooping forward as if overcome by the weight of his sorrow and shame. He was wearing the ignominious "sanbenito," a sort of chasuble made of yellow baize, with a vivid green cross on the chest; on his head the ignoble "coroza" painted with flames and devils, and a lighted taper of green wax in his hand.

Behind him came in the following order, his brother Francisco de Vibero, also a cleric, who did not repent until the last moment, and who was gagged to silence his dreadful blasphemies; their sister DoÑa Beatriz de Vibero, a devout woman of rare beauty; the master Alonso PÉrez, cleric of Palencia, the silversmith Juan GarcÍa, CristÓbal de Campo, the Bachelor of Arts Antonio Herrezuelo, also gagged, and impenitent to the last, and for this the only one to perish in the flames; CristÓbal de Padilla, a native of Zamora, DoÑa Catalina de Ortega, widow of the captain Loaysa, the licentiate Calahorra, Alcalde Mayor in the employment of the Bishop, Catalina RomÁn, Isabel Estrada, Juan VelÁsquez, and Gonzalo Baez, a Portuguese, and not a Lutheran heretic, but a Jew.

These were all condemned to be garrotted and their corpses burnt, and for this reason they had flames painted on their sanbenitos and corozas. Behind them two familiars of the Holy Office carried on a stretcher the shapeless figure of a woman, also dressed with a coroza and sanbenito, the bones of DoÑa Leonor de Vibero, mother of the Cazallas, exhumed from the monastery of San Benito, to be burnt with her effigy. Behind this first group came, guarded in the same manner, another sixteen prisoners, men and women, condemned to various punishments, but not to death, for which reason they did not wear the corozas or flames on their sanbenitos; the men went bareheaded, and the women with a piece of linen on their head to hide their shame. The most noteworthy among them were D. Pedro Sarmiento, Commander of the Order of Alcantara, and a relation of the Admiral, and his wife DoÑa Mencia de Figueroa, who had been a lady of the Court; he was condemned to forfeit the robes of his Order and Commandery, to perpetual prison and the sanbenito, with the necessity of hearing mass and a sermon on Sunday, and to communicate on the three great feasts, and forbidden to use silk, gold, silver, horses, and jewels; she was only condemned to perpetual prison and the wearing of the sanbenito.

When DoÑa Mencia mounted the platform the ladies of the Court burst into tears, and the Princess herself hurriedly left and went inside, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. The MarquÉs de Poza, D. Luis de Rojas, also inspired deep pity, a gay boy, exiled for ever from the Court, and deprived of all the honours of a gentleman; and even more DoÑa Ana Enriquez, daughter of the MarquÉs de AlcaÑices, a girl of great beauty, who was sentenced to leave the platform with sanbenito and taper, to fast for three days, to return with her dress to the prison, and then go free. Such was the repentance and confusion of this lady that, mounting the tribune to hear her sentence, her strength left her, and she would have fallen from the platform, had not a son of the Duque de Gandia, who was there as a devout penitent, supported her.

The prisoners were placed on the steps in the order arranged, those condemned to death separated from the others, and the Auto was begun by a young Dominican brother, of ruddy complexion, and rapid and violent in his marvellous eloquence, mounting the centre pulpit. It was the celebrated Maestro Fr. Melchor Cano, one of the most learned men of his time, and he preached for more than an hour on the text of St. Matthew, "Flee from false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves."

The sermon ended, the Archbishop of Seville, ValdÉz, the Inquisitor of Valladolid, Vaca, and his secretary mounted the throne to submit the oath to the Prince and Princess. The Archbishop carried a beautiful cross of gold and jewels, the Inquisitor a missal, and the secretary the form of the oath written on parchment. Standing up, the Prince and Princess, D. Carlos cap in hand, swore by the cross and missal in these words, which the secretary read: "That as Catholic Princes they would defend with all might and life the Catholic faith as held and believed by the Holy Mother Church Apostolic of Rome, and its conservation and increase; that they would give all the necessary favour and help to the Holy Office of the Inquisition and its ministers, that heretics, disturbers of the Christian religion which they professed, should be punished according to the Apostolic decrees and sacred canons, without omission on their part or making any exception." "El Relator" Juan de Ortega then read this same formula to the people from one of the tribunes of the lower platform, crying first three times, "Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!"

And the people, with the vehemence of conviction and the haste of those who have received a warning, answered with one voice, with one cry of fear and conviction, "Yes, we swear."

Then the same "Relator," Juan de Ortega, and the clerk of Toledo, Juan de Vergara, ascended the two tribunes on the platform, and began to read alternately, the trials and convictions of the prisoners beginning with Dr. Cazalla. From a high pulpit each heard his own sentence read, and remained all the time with a lighted taper of green wax in his hand, exposed to public shame. Then it was that DoÑa Ana de Enriquez nearly fell out of the pulpit overwhelmed with confusion.

At four o'clock in the afternoon the reading was ended. Then the Archbishop of Seville put on his pontifical vestments, and solemnly absolved and restored to the bosom of the Church the sixteen reconciled prisoners, who were then taken back to their respective cells. The other fourteen, who were condemned to death, left at the same time, some walking, others riding on donkeys, to be garrotted, and afterwards burnt on the Parade Ground.

Such was then an Auto da Fe, certainly a sad and sorrowful sight, but still, perhaps not so emotional as the sight of certain trials to which in our day the public flock, not to sanction by their presence the judgment and justice nor as a warning lesson, but greedy to see the seamy side of sorrow and crime. As to the horrible scenes of the "Quemadero" (the burning), no one attended them but those obliged by their office, and a public low and ignorant, no doubt, and for this reason much more blameless than those who nowadays attend our executions, full of unhealthy curiosity or cold indifference. There is no doubt, says the profound thinker Balmes, that, if the doctrine of those who wish to abolish the death penalty should ever become effective, when posterity reads of the executions of our days, they will be as horrified as we are over those of the past. The gallows, garrotte and the guillotine will be placed on a par with the ancient "Quemaderos."

Tired by the long wait and the dull reading, JeromÍn ended by falling asleep, his head leaning against DoÑa Magdalena's knees, but he woke up in the midst of a strange tumult, of which he was far from knowing that he was the cause. This is how Vander Hammen describes the scene: "At it (the Auto) the greater part of Old Castille was present, and a great number of Andalucians and those from New Castille, and as the news spread about everywhere of the new son of Charles V, a little more and there would have been a serious disaster, as everyone wanted to see him and the guards could not check them.

"The people threw themselves on each other without minding the halberds, javelins or arquebuses. It came to this, that the Conde de Osorno had to carry him in his arms to the Princess's carriage, because everyone liked him. In it the sister took him to the Palace (the house of the Conde de Benavente), followed by a crowd of people, and from there he went back with DoÑa Magdalena to her Villagarcia."

All the same, Vander Hammen is wrong in what he says about the Princess and other things. The Conde de Osorno did, it is true, take JeromÍn and lift him up to show him to the people, but he did not give him into the Princess's charge, nor did she commit the imprudence of taking him with her to the Palace. He gave him into DoÑa Magdalena's care, from whom he had got separated in the confusion, and this lady took him back the same night to Villagarcia.

The child, frightened by the tumult, whose cause he did not suspect, asked with rather timid anxiety whether the heretics had escaped.

After an absence of five years Philip II at last returned to Spain and disembarked at Laredo on the 8th of September, 1559. Six days later he made his entry into Valladolid, and the following day his sister Princess Juana made over to him the government of the kingdom, and retired to the convent of Abrojo, about a league away. She and Philip were not long separated, as on the 21st, the first anniversary of the Emperor's death, he caused solemn services for the eternal repose of the Emperor's soul to be celebrated in the same convent.

Meanwhile Luis Quijada awaited at Villagarcia with real anxiety the King's promised decision about JeromÍn, which would so much affect the whole family. But the King settled nothing, and the former steward, accustomed to the promptness of the Emperor, who with the inspiration of genius saw, ordered, thought and resolved all in a second, that which more common intelligence would require months to decide, began to despair and could not reconcile himself to D. Philip's slow parsimony.

Philip, however, had not forgotten his brother, as is proved by the famous state council of which Antonio PÉrez speaks in one of his letters to Gil de Mesa: "That they were so divided, having taken sides on the subject, these great councillors, each to his own end, but with arguments about the service of the King, whether the Catholic King Philip ought to follow his father's wish about the position of his brother." This last an invention, no doubt, of the crafty secretary PÉrez, as none of the councillors, much less Philip II, could quibble in any way about what the Emperor had not counselled but ordered in his will with regard to his bastard son.

At last Luis Quijada received a message from the King ordering him to go to the mountain of Torozos on the 28th of September, making hunting the excuse, and taking JeromÍn with him, dressed as usual like a peasant; that they were to go towards the monastery of the Espina, and that about midday he would meet them between the monastery and the forester's tower. He also told Quijada to say nothing to the child to enlighten him, as he wished to do this himself.

What generally happens befell Luis Quijada: the realisation of that which we have most desired fills us with sadness and disappointment. Certainly for him had come the hour of reward, for the Emperor, who was never very generous, had not granted him any favour, leaving only the recommendation to his son to pay, in his name, this very real debt. But at the same time had come the hour for separating from JeromÍn, and tearing him from DoÑa Magdalena who adored him, while as for himself, he had become accustomed to seeing the boy the object of his affection and care, and the living recollection of the Emperor, reincarnate in this attractive little figure, capable for this reason alone of winning all hearts. At this thought the eyes of the fierce victor of Hesdin filled with tears.

At first he thought to spare DoÑa Magdalena this sorrow until the last moment; but men are weak about troubles, and as in other things they trust proudly to themselves, so in sorrow they seek the aid of a woman, weaker than they are in everything but suffering, because they more often seek the virtue of fortitude from God. So not even until night could Quijada wait, but that same afternoon he called DoÑa Magdalena to a retired spot, and there told her everything about JeromÍn, from the moment that the Emperor had revealed to him the secret of his birth. The husband and wife had never talked about this, and they might well wonder at each other, she at his loyalty and abnegation, which had kept him silent about so weighty a secret; he, at her prudence and delicacy in asking no questions, nor investigating that which had so much mortified her. DoÑa Magdalena did not think of herself for a moment. She well understood everything, and knew how to estimate everything from its true point of view, but one thing only filled her heart with fear—JeromÍn, her dear son, for so she considered him, at thirteen was going to experience one of those sudden changes of fortune which are enough to turn the wisest head. That in a few days the child would find himself at the height of fortune, but exiled from all affection, alone, envied, and perhaps envious, without her to defend the youthful soul, as in his childhood she had done against bad natural inclinations and vexations of vice and sin.

DoÑa Magdalena had no sudden inspirations of genius, but she had good ideas, and she proposed to Quijada without a moment's hesitation not to abandon the boy, but to follow him to Madrid, sacrificing her quiet life at Villagarcia in exchange for looking after him if only from afar, and not to leave him suddenly and so young among the tumult and dangers of a Court. Quijada thought that his wife had guessed what was passing in his mind, as it was what he had himself been considering; but it seemed idle to make any decided plans until they knew those of the King for JeromÍn and for the person of Quijada himself.

Hunting expeditions were too frequent at Villagarcia for the simple preparations that Quijada ordered for the 28th of September at Torozos to call for much attention from JeromÍn. Quijada wished to arrange everything well and prevent the eleventh-hour inconveniences which sometimes spoil the best-laid plot. He called his huntsman aside, and ordered him to prepare two or three beats the first thing the next morning, and real or false scents to draw them towards the monastery of the Espinas, as he was obliged to be between the convent and the forester's tower at midday.

At dawn Quijada and JeromÍn set out, with no more than the necessary huntsmen and hounds. JeromÍn was riding a black horse, and wore over his peasant's dress a loose coat of green "monte." They hunted until ten o'clock, having very good sport, and at that hour the huntsman announced that the hounds were on the scent of a stag heading towards Espina. Quijada and JeromÍn followed penetrating into the country, which became more and more solitary, until the hounds suddenly stopped breathless and, questing about as if they had lost the scent, then started off on a cross scent on the opposite side. At the same time, from that direction came the sound of horns and a great noise of calling and shouting, and like an arrow a noble stag was seen passing between the ilex trees, another excited pack of hounds, and a lot of hunters who were following.

Luis Quijada sat still on his horse, and said to JeromÍn, who was attentively looking at the disappearing hunters, "Those are the King's huntsmen. Let us leave them the mountain." So they then changed their course towards an open space which had been made by the felling of some oaks, and to the right they saw the forester's tower, and to the left the walls of the convent, and between the two edifices a spinney of about a hundred oak trees, which had been left to afford shade for the animals called "atalayas." From these trees came two gentlemen, riding slowly as if they were waiting for something, or were talking quietly.

JeromÍn saw them first, and called Quijada's attention to them while they continued riding towards them as if he intended to meet them. Suddenly JeromÍn stopped short; he had recognised in one of the riders the man with a hooked nose and long beard whom he had seen in the garden of the Descalzos in Valladolid five years before.

Quijada also stopped, and turning in the saddle towards JeromÍn, who remained behind him, said with a certain emotion foreign to the calm man, "Come up, JeromÍn, and do not let this dismay you. The great lord whom you see is the King; the other the Duque de Alba. Do not be frightened, I say, because he wishes you well and intends to confer favours on you."

The two riders had come up, followed at a long distance by two others who appeared to be huntsmen belonging to the convent. JeromÍn had no time to answer; but he recognised in the King the fair, pale young man with the beard cut in the Flemish fashion whom he had seen cross the square of Valladolid, among the shouts of the people, when he looked from the rose window of the sacristy of the Descalzos. The five years that had since passed had, without ageing him, given gravity to his face and repose to his manners. D. Philip was at this time thirty-two.

Those from Villagarcia alighted and went to kiss the King's hand, kneeling on one knee. The King stretched out his hand to Quijada without dismounting; but JeromÍn was so small that he could not accomplish this part of the ceremony in this humble posture. So the King dismounted and, laughing gaily, gave him his hand to kiss, and taking JeromÍn by the chin, looked at him up and down for a long time with great curiosity, as if he would embarrass the boy. But he did not succeed, however; nor was JeromÍn the timid, frightened child who had gone to Yuste, nor had D. Philip ever for him the halo of the supernatural with which his imagination always surrounded the person of Charles V.

Then the King asked JeromÍn many questions, which the boy answered brightly with much modest composure, but without shyness. Then he went with Quijada towards the oak spinney, leaving the boy alone with the man with the hooked nose and long beard who Quijada had said was the Duque de Alba. The huntsmen had taken the horses, and were waiting at a respectful distance.

JeromÍn felt shy at finding himself alone with the grave magnate who stood respectfully at his side, with his cap in his hand. This seemed very odd to JeromÍn, as the King had gone away and was even lost to sight among the trees, and this humble attitude in so great a personage worried him.

The Duque at last broke this embarrassing silence, asking JeromÍn after DoÑa Magdalena de Ulloa, and saying much in praise of her talents and virtues; which so pleased the child that the ice was at once broken and sympathy established between the famous commander and the innocent boy.

Meanwhile D. Philip was getting detailed information about JeromÍn's character and qualities from Quijada, and was confiding to him and asking his advice about some of his plans for the child.

It was his intention to acknowledge him publicly as the Emperor's son and his own brother, and to give him the rank of Infante at Court without the name, and for him to be addressed only as Excellency. He had already formed an household with this object, and thought of educating him with his son D. Carlos and his nephew Alexander Farnese, in order that the good qualities of Alexander and JeromÍn might arouse emulation in the weak and not over well-disposed nature of D. Carlos.

But for all this the help of Luis Quijada and his wife was necessary, because it was certain that the abrupt change of fortune might be the ruin of JeromÍn, if he had not at his side to advise and correct him the same persons who had so happily guided his first steps. For this reason D. Philip wished that Quijada should go as his tutor to Court with JeromÍn to look after him and his house, and that DoÑa Magdalena should go, too, to love and watch over him as a mother; a charge, said D. Philip, which would be neither recognised at, nor rewarded by, the Court, but which God and the King would thank them for and repay with bountifulness. And to make a still greater link between JeromÍn and D. Carlos, and that the latter should benefit by the moral advantages the former had enjoyed, the King also wished Quijada to accept the office of Master of the Horse to the Prince; and to warrant this office and also to help with his expenses, the King offered him to have the Commandery of Morals of the Order of Calatrava very shortly, and to give him at once the post of Councillor of State and of War. Delighted, Quijada accepted everything which fulfilled all his expectations, and also the wishes of DoÑa Magdalena, as if the King had consulted them beforehand. D. Philip was also pleased, and giving way to his excessive love of details, he gave Quijada a paper on which were the names of the people who were to form JeromÍn's household, and gave him entire liberty to make any observations that occurred to him, because the King was ready to modify, or even to change completely, anything that Quijada and DoÑa Magdalena judged necessary for the well-being of the child.

These were the names of the household:

Luis Quijada, Tutor and Master of the Household.

The Conde de Priego D. Fernando Carrillo, Lord Steward.

D. Luis de CordÓba, Master of the Horse.

D. Rodrigo Benavides, brother to the Conde de Santestiban, Chamberlain.

D. Rodrigo de Mendoza, Lord of Lodosa, Steward.

D. Juan de GuzmÁn, D. Pedro Zapata de CordÓba, and D. Jose de AcuÑa, Gentlemen of the Bedchamber.

Juan de Quiroga, Secretary.

Jorge de Lima and Juan de Toro, Valets.

D. Luis Carillo, eldest son of the Conde de Priego, Captain of his Guard, which was to be half Spanish and half German.

When this list was approved by Quijada in his own name and that of DoÑa Magdalena, the King gave the final order. That two days afterwards, that is to say on the 1st of October, JeromÍn was to be established in Valladolid with the Quijadas in a house which DoÑa Magdalena owned opposite that of the Conde de Rivadeo, which was henceforth to be the residence of the new prince; and that on the 2nd, at midday, Luis Quijada was secretly to bring JeromÍn to the Palace, so that after dinner the King could present him to the Princess Juana and Prince Carlos, and acknowledge him as a brother before all the Court. The time and place to publish this acknowledgment throughout the kingdom would be determined later.

The King and Quijada talked for more than an hour, walking under the shade of the guardian oak trees, and when they emerged into the light not the perspicacity of even such an accomplished courtier as the Duque de Alba could have guessed from their faces what had passed between them. On reaching JeromÍn and the Duque the King said to Quijada, "It will now be necessary to take the bandage off the boy's eyes." Then, turning to JeromÍn, he asked him pleasant and even joking questions, and, as if recollecting something, all at once he said very kindly, "And with all this, Sir Peasant, you have never even told me your name." "JeromÍn," answered the boy. "He was a great saint, but it must be altered. And do you know who your father was?"

JeromÍn blushed up to his eyes and looked at the King, half indignant and half tearful, as it seemed to him an affront which had no answer. D. Philip then was touched, and putting his hand on the boy's shoulder, said with simple majesty, "Courage, my child, as I can tell you. The Emperor, my lord and father, was also yours, and for this I recognise and love you as a brother." And he tenderly embraced him without other witnesses than Quijada and the Duque de Alba. The huntsmen saw the scene from afar off, without realising what was happening. The baying of the hounds and gay fanfare on the horns announced in the distance that the hunters were returning after a successful chase.

Stupefied by this revelation JeromÍn got on his horse, Luis Quijada holding his stirrup. On the homeward journey to Villagarcia he only once opened his lips, and turning round to Quijada, who followed, asked, "And my aunt, does she know?" "Everything," answered Quijada.

JeromÍn hurried his steps as if he would be late getting to the castle, and running through the courts and up the stairs, he arrived at the parlour, opening and slamming the doors. DoÑa Magdalena was there alone and very pale. The child went to her, and took her hand to kiss it. "Aunt! Aunt!" "My lord, your Highness is no nephew of mine," answered the lady. And she tried to kiss his hands, and set him in her big chair while she sat on the carpet.

But the child, beside himself, cried with great energy that made his voice, all choked with tears, quite hoarse:

"No! No! My aunt, my aunt, my mother." And he kissed her tearfully, miserable and angry all at the same time, as one who cries for something lost through his own fault, and by force made her sit in the chair, and would not be silent or calm until he sat at her feet with his head leaning against her knee, making her promise a thousand times that she would always be his aunt, and that she would never leave off being his mother.

This all happened on a Thursday, and the following Monday, which was the 2nd of October, the acknowledgment of JeromÍn took place in the Palace of Valladolid, as the King, D. Philip, had arranged. It is related thus in a manuscript, quoted by Gachard in the Maggliabecchiana library in Florence:

"Thursday, the 8th of September, it reached the lords of the Holy Office that the King would not go before he had seen the act, and so then they had it proclaimed for the 8th of October. And thus the King went to la Spina, and there they brought his half-brother, and he was pleased to see him, as he is handsome and sensible, and he ordered that he should be brought secretly to his house. And thus, the following Monday, he made everyone in the Palace recognise him as his brother, and embraced and kissed him, then his sister, then his son, and then the rest of the black cloaks."

It is, therefore, not true what Vander Hammen says of Philip giving his brother the Golden Fleece, either at Torozos or in the Palace of Valladolid. What really happened at this second interview was that the King gave his brother the family name, and changed his name of JeromÍn for that of John, creating that which has descended to posterity surrounded by rays of genius and glory—Don John of Austria.