Luis Quijada, I call upon you to witness whether I have a right to this
child and to consideration from its father; for when you, his messenger
of love, led me for the first time to the man who now tramples me so
cruelly under his feet, you yourself heard him greet me as the sun which
was again rising for him. But that is forgotten! If his will is not
executed, mother and child may perish in darkness and misery. Well,
then, will against will! He has the right to cease to love me and to
thrust me from him, but it is mine to hate him from my inmost soul, and
to make my child what I please. Let him grow up as Heaven wills, and if
he perishes in want and shame, if he is put in the pillory or dies on the
scaffold, one mission at least will be left for me. I will shriek out to
the world how the royal betrayer provided for the welfare of his own
blood!"

"Enough!" interrupted Don Luis in mingled wrath and horror. "I will not
and can not listen longer while gall and venom are poured upon the sacred
head of the greatest of men."

"Then leave me!" cried Barbara, scarcely able to use her voice. "This
room, at least, will be mine until I can no longer accept even shelter
from the traitor who--you used the words yourself--instilled venom and
bitter gall into my soul."

Quijada, with a slight bend of the head, turned and left the room.

When the door closed behind him, Barbara, with panting breath and
flashing eyes, threw herself into an arm-chair, content as if she had
been relieved of a heavy burden, but the Emperor's envoy mounted the
horse on which he had come, and rode away.