While her lips were still glowing from his kisses, she had carried on a
reckless game with another, and was now robbing him of the repose of mind
which he so urgently, needed.

And the mother of the woman whose birthday had just passed, the proud
Queen Isabella, the conqueror of the Moors--what would she have said had
she been condemned to see her grandson, the heir of so great an empire,
ensnared by such bonds?

He had proved, since he wielded the sceptre, that he did not lack
strength of will, and he must show it again.

He reminded himself indignantly that he was not only the ruler of many
nations, but the head of perhaps the most illustrious family on earth.

He thought of his royal brothers and sisters, his haughty son Philip, his
daughters, nephews, and nieces; and while pouring forth his soul in
fervent prayer for his unfortunate mother, with her disordered intellect,
he also besought the Redeemer to free him from the evil of this love.
Three words from his lips would have sufficed to rid him of Barbara
forever, but--he felt it--that would not end the matter. He must also
learn to forget her, and for that he needed the aid of the higher powers.
He had once more yielded to worldly pleasure. The kiss of her beautiful
soft lips had been sweet, the melody of her voice still more blissful.
It had given him hours of rapture; but were these joys worth the long
repentance which was already beginning? It was wise to sacrifice the
transitory pleasures of earth to loftier purposes. One thing alone
promised permanent duration even here--what he was achieving for the
future greatness of his own name and that of his race. For them he was