“I believe so, Sire—nay, I am sure,” returned D’Egmont. “To prove the motives by which your august sire is actuated in his retirement, it will be enough to state, that out of his immense revenues he only intends to reserve himself a pension of a hundred thousand ducats.” “Only so much,” cried Mary. “Why, ’tis less than a noble’s revenue.” “It is more than the Emperor will need, Madam, in the solitary life he designs to lead,” observed D’Egmont. “I am filled with amazement,” observed Pole. “That Charles V., the foremost monarch of Christendom, the greatest warrior of the age, who holds in his hands the destinies of Europe, should retire in the plenitude of his power, is indeed a wondrous circumstance, to which there is no parallel, save in the instance of Diocletian. May the Christian monarch be as happy in his retirement as was the heathen Emperor in his garden at Salona. Heavy, indeed, must be the weight of a crown, since its wearer desires to put it off thus.” “In his letter to me, the Emperor explains the motives of his intent to abdicate,” said Philip. “Referring to the troubled and agitated life he has led, to his great fatigues and exposure, his frequent travels in Europe and Africa, the constant warfare in which he has been engaged, and his incessant labours for the public welfare and for religion, he observes: ‘As long as my strength would allow me, I have fulfilled my duties, but now my infirmities counsel—nay, command—repose. Ambition, and the desire to rule, no longer sway my breast. The remainder of my days will be consecrated to holy thought and preparation for eternity. To you, my son, and to your care, I shall resign my vast possessions, conjuring you never to relax in your efforts for the welfare of the people committed to your charge. The time may come when, exhausted, loaded with infirmities, and praying for release, you may desire to imitate your father’s example.’” “May that day be long distant!” cried D’Egmont. “A brilliant career is before your Majesty.” “Yet let the Emperor’s words never be forgotten, Sire,” remarked Pole, solemnly. “Lay them to heart, and be guided by them; and so, when you arrive at that period which your august sire has reached, when earthly glories shall fade away and become as nothing in your sight, you will derive comfort from the happiness and prosperity you have conferred upon your people. Rarely has a crown been similarly bestowed. Never could crown be more richly graced. Wear it, Sire, as it has hitherto been worn—wear it as your great father has worn it, and when you put it off, you will do so, like him, without a sigh.” “Once mine, I shall be in no haste to part with it,” observed Philip. “But have I no congratulations from your Majesty?” he added to the Queen. “Do you not rejoice with me on my good luck?” “Your good luck is my misfortune,” rejoined Mary. “This unlooked-for act of the Emperor must cause our separation.”