Barbara had soon wearied of gazing at the magnificent garments and horses
of these grandees. As Charles did not appear, the only person in the
endless procession who attracted her attention was Massi, whom she soon
discovered on his insignificant little horse; but he did not heed her
eager signals, for he was talking earnestly to the occupant of the large
litter borne by two mules that moved beside him.

Barbara tried to force her way to him, and when she succeeded her cheeks
suddenly burned hotly, and a swift dread checked her progress; for from
the great window of the litter a wonderfully beautiful little head,
covered with fair curls, looked forth, and two little arms were extended
toward the violinist.

How gleefully this child's eyes sparkled! how his whole little figure
seemed instinct with joy and life while gazing at the horseman at the
side of the street who was having a hard struggle with his refractory
stallion!

No one knew this boy better than she, for it was her own son, the
imperial child she had given to the Emperor. At the same time she
thought of her other two boys, and her face again wore a compassionate
expression. Not they, but this little prince from fairyland was her
first-born, her dearest, her true child.

But where were they taking her John? What had Massi to do with him?
Why should the boy be in Philip's train?

There was only one explanation. Her child was being conveyed to Spain.