chronicler of Antwerp to have cost from 3000 to 4000 crowns. It was, he
says, "an earthly paradise of which soon not a vapour remained." He
added that he gave a detailed account of it "not because he took pleasure
in such voluptuous pomp and extravagance, but that one might thus learn
the vanity of the world." These courtesies and assiduities on the part
of the great "shopkeeper," as the Constable called him, had so much
effect, if not on the Princess, at least on Conde himself, that he
threatened to throw his wife out of window if she refused to caress
Spinola. These and similar accusations were made by the father and aunt
when attempting to bring about a divorce of the Princess from her
husband. The Nuncius Bentivoglio, too, fell in love with her, devoting
himself to her service, and his facile and eloquent pen to chronicling
her story. Even poor little Philip of Spain in the depths of the
Escurial heard of her charms, and tried to imagine himself in love with
her by proxy.

Thenceforth there was a succession of brilliant festivals in honour of
the Princess. The Spanish party was radiant with triumph, the French
maddened with rage. Henry in Paris was chafing like a lion at bay. A
petty sovereign whom he could crush at one vigorous bound was protecting
the lady for whose love he was dying. He had secured Conde's exclusion
from Holland, but here were the fugitives splendidly established in
Brussels; the Princess surrounded by most formidable suitors, the Prince
encouraged in his rebellious and dangerous schemes by the power which the
King most hated on earth, and whose eternal downfall he had long since
sworn to accomplish.

For the weak and frivolous Conde began to prattle publicly of his deep
projects of revenge. Aided by Spanish money and Spanish troops he would
show one day who was the real heir to the throne of France--the