philosopher, the father yearning for the child he had missed so long.
But how pitilessly what she heard here overthrew the proud edifice! how
cruelly it destroyed what she had deemed worthy of the greatest
admiration, what had rendered her happy and reanimated her wishes
and her hopes!

The wise Granvelle foresaw how the world would judge his master's
abdication, and described it to the Frieslander. It bore a fateful
resemblance to the regent's interpretation, her friend's opinion, and her
own, and the shrewd Viglius accompanied this narrative with so scornful
a laugh that it made her heart ache.

"This is what will be said," concluded the Bishop of Arras, summing up
his previous statements, "of the wise scorner of the world upon the
throne, who cast aside sceptre and crown in order, as a pious recluse, to
secure the salvation of his soul and, like a second Diogenes, to listen
to the wealth of his thoughts and investigate the nature of things."

"If only the pure spring from which the Greek dipped water in the hollow
of his hand was not changed to a cellar full of fiery wine, his hermit
fare to highly seasoned pasties, stuffed partridges, frozen fruit juices,
truffled pheasants, and such things! But everybody to his taste! The
world will be deceived. Unless you wish to blind yourself, your
Eminence, you will admit that I have seen correctly the most powerful
motives for this unequalled act."

Barbara saw the bishop shake his head in dissent and, while she was
listening with strained ears to his explanation, Viglius, as if singing
bass to Granvelle's tenor, repeated again and again at brief intervals,
in a low tone, the one word, "Debts," while his green eyes sparkled,