So far from this being the case, that not only did the emperor continue to show an interest in public affairs, but he took a prominent part, even from the depths of his retreat, in the management of them.[307] Philip, who had the good sense to defer to the long experience and the wisdom of his father, consulted him, constantly, on great questions of public policy. And so far was he from the feeling of jealousy often imputed to him, that we find him on one occasion, when the horizon looked particularly, dark, imploring the emperor to leave his retreat, and to aid him not only by his counsels, but by his presence and authority.[308] The emperor's daughter Joanna, regent of Castile, from her residence at Valladolid, only fifty leagues from Yuste, maintained a constant correspondence with her father, soliciting his advice in the conduct of the government. However much Charles may have felt himself relieved from responsibility for measures, he seems to have been as anxious for the success of Philip's administration as if it had been his own. "Write more fully," says one of his secretaries in a letter to the secretary of the regent's council; "the emperor is always eager to hear more particulars of events."[309] He showed the deepest concern in the conduct of the Italian war. He betrayed none of the scruples manifested by Philip, but boldly declared that the war with the pope was a just war, in the sight of both God and man.[310] When letters came from abroad, he was even heard to express his regret that they brought no tidings of Paul's death, or Caraffa's![311] He was sorely displeased with the truce which Alva granted to the pontiff, intimating a regret that he had not the reins still in his own hand. He was yet more discontented with the peace, and the terms of it, both public and private; and when Alva talked of leaving Naples, his anger, as his secretary quaintly remarks, was "more than was good for his health."[312] The same interest he showed in the French war. The loss of Calais filled him with the deepest anxiety. But in his letters on the occasion, instead of wasting his time in idle lament, he seems intent only on devising in what way he can best serve Philip in his distress.[313] In the same proportion he was elated by the tidings of the victory of St. Quentin. His thoughts turned upon Paris, and he was eager to learn what road his son had taken after the battle.[314] According to Brantôme, on hearing the news, he abruptly asked, "Is Philip at Paris?"--He judged of Philip's temper by his own.[315]