harmoniously with his nephew. The Duke of Guise might marry with the
infanta and thus become King of France by the grace of God and Philip.
To such a consummation in the case of his uncle there stood, as we know,
an insuperable obstacle in the shape of the Duchess of Mayenne. Should
it come to this at last, it was certain that the Duke would make any and
every combination to frustrate such a scheme. Meantime he kept his own
counsel, worked amiably with Philip, Parma, and the young duke, and
received money in overflowing measure, and poured into his bosom from
that Spanish monarch whose veterans in the Netherlands were maddened by
starvation into mutiny.

Philip's plans were a series of alternatives. France he regarded as the
property of his family. Of that there could be no doubt at all. He
meant to put the crown upon his own head, unless the difficulties in the
way should prove absolutely insuperable. In that case he claimed France
and all its inhabitants as the property of his daughter. The Salic law
was simply a pleasantry, a bit of foolish pedantry, an absurdity. If
Clara Isabella, as daughter of Isabella of France, as grandchild of Henry
II., were not manifestly the owner of France--queen-proprietary, as the
Spanish doctors called it--then there was no such thing, so he thought,
as inheritance of castle, farm-house, or hovel--no such thing as property
anywhere in the world. If the heiress of the Valois could not take that
kingdom as her private estate, what security could there ever be for any
possessions public or private?

This was logical reasoning enough for kings and their counsellors. There
was much that might be said, however, in regard to special laws. There
was no doubt that great countries, with all their livestock--human or
otherwise--belonged to an individual, but it was not always so clear who
that individual was. This doubt gave much work and comfortable fees to