return, that the bird had fled."--

"And there was an end of the matter?"--

"I hoped so! But I am not precisely the confessor his highness is
likely to select when love constitutes the sin. At all events, the
bustle of Margaret's departure for Spa, the care of the royal escort,
and the payment of all that decency required us to take upon
ourselves of the cost of our hospitality, engrossed my time and
thoughts. But the first time the Infant beset me, (as he has
doubtless done yourself,) with his chapter of lamentations over the
sufferings of Belgium,--the lawlessness of the camp--the former
loyalty of the provinces--the tenderness of conscience of the
heretics,--and the eligibility of forbearance and peace,--I saw as
plain as though the word were inscribed by the burning finger of
Satan, that the turkois eyes and flaxen ringlets were the text of all
this snivelling humanity!'

"Blessings on the tender consciences of the heretics, who were
burning Antwerp and Ghent, and plundering the religious houses and
putting their priests to the sword!" ejaculated Gonzaga.

"The exigencies of the hour, however, left little leisure to Don John
for the nursing of his infant passion; and a few weeks past, I
entertained hopes that, Queen Margaret being safe back at her Louvre,
the heart of the Prince was safe back in its place; more especially
when he one day proposed to me an exploit savouring more of his days
of Lepanto than I had expected at his hands again. Distracted by the
false intelligence wherewith we were perpetually misled by the
Brabançon scouts, Don John determined on a sortie in disguise,