to its service.

While she did not forget her household, her mind was constantly in Spain.
Her walks were usually directed toward the palace, to inquire how the
recluse in San Yuste was faring, and whether any rumour mentioned her
imperial son.

After the great victory gained by Count Egmont against the military
forces of France, eleven months after the battle of St. Quentin, there
was enough to be seen in Brussels. The successful general was greeted
with enthusiastic devotion. Egmont's name was in every one's mouth, and
when she, too, saw the handsome, proud young hero, the idol, as it were,
of a whole nation, gorgeous in velvet, silk, and glittering gems, curbing
his fiery steed and bowing to the shouting populace with a winning smile,
she thought she caught a glimpse of the future, and beheld the
predecessor of him who some day would receive similar homage.

Why should she not have yielded to such hopes? Already there was a
rumour that the daughter of the Emperor and that Johanna Van der Gheynst,
who had been Charles's first love, Margaret of Parma, her own son's
sister, had been chosen to rule the Netherlands as regent.

Why should less honours await Charles's son than his daughter?

But the festal joy in the gay capital was suddenly extinguished, for in
the autumn of the year that, in March, had seen Ferdinand, the Emperor's
brother, assume the imperial crown, a rumour came that the recluse of San
Yuste had closed his eyes, and a few days after it was verified.

It was Barbara's husband who told her of the loss which had befallen her