“But,” said he, “if this voyage is a success, I must be made Admiral and Viceroy over the countries which I discover, and must also receive one-tenth of the revenues which come from these lands, either from trade or from agriculture.” These terms did not suit the Queen’s counselors. “It would be degrading to exalt an ordinary man to such high position,” said Talavera, the Queen’s foremost advisor. “The demands of this threadbare navigator are absurd.” More moderate terms were offered to Columbus, but he declined them. “Good-by, Your Majesty,” said he. “I will go to France, where the King will perhaps give me more advantageous offerings than you care to present.” So the good man mounted his mule—the very one which the Queen had presented him with—but he did not seem to mind using it, and, turning his back on Santa Fé, and the convent of La Rabida, he started for the Pyrenees Mountains in order to journey to France. As soon as he had gone the Queen began to feel sorry that she had allowed him to depart. Her friends gathered around her and had a good deal to say. “What an opportunity you are losing to enhance the glory of Spain,” said several. “What a chance to make your own name forever great. If I were you, I would call this navigator back to court before he arrives upon the soil of France.” Her husband, King Ferdinand, looked coldly upon the project, for his treasury had been exhausted by the fighting with the Moors and he did not wish to spend any more money, just then. But the Queen had many jewels which she could pledge in order to raise money for ships and for supplies. “Ferdinand,” said she to her husband, “if you do not care to undertake this enterprise for the glory of the crown of Castile, I myself, will do so, and I will give all of my jewels as security for a loan to the navigator Columbus.” A courier was sent post haste after the sailor from Genoa, who was then ambling along upon his mule and was crossing the bridge of Pinos, some six miles from Granada. “The Queen has changed her mind towards you,” said the courier who had been sent to find the poor navigator. “Come back! You will now have funds with which to go upon your journey.” Columbus hesitated a moment, for he feared that this was a lie, but, convinced of the truth of the statement, he turned about and whipped up his mule. They trotted along joyfully towards Santa Fé. The Queen was now in a pleasant humor. Columbus was given all that he had asked for, but he was required to bear one-eighth of the expense of the journey. Papers to this effect were drawn up and signed on April the seventeenth, 1492, and, a month later, the joyful navigator set out for Palos in order to get ready the ships and provisions for the long-hoped-for voyage of discovery.