The infanta was there received under a superb canopy, supported by the magistrates of the city. The late ambassador to Portugal, Don Luis Sarmiento, who had negotiated the marriage treaty, held the bridle of her mule; and in this state she arrived at the palace of the duke of Alva, destined for her reception in Salamanca. Here she was received with all honour by the duchess, in the presence of a brilliant company of cavaliers and noble ladies. Each of the ladies was graciously permitted by the infanta to kiss her hand; but the duchess, the chronicler is careful to inform us, she distinguished by the honor of an embrace. All the while, Philip had been in the presence of the infanta, unknown to herself. Impatient to see his destined bride, the young prince had sallied out, with a few attendants, to the distance of five or six miles from the city, all in the disguise of huntsmen. He wore a slouched velvet hat on his head, and his face was effectually concealed under a gauze mask, so that he could mingle in the crowd by the side of the infanta, and make his own scrutiny, unmarked by any one. In this way he accompanied the procession during the five hours which it lasted, until the darkness had set in; "if darkness could be spoken of," says the chronicler, "where the blaze of ten thousand torches shed a light stronger than day." The following evening, November the twelfth, was appointed for the marriage. The duke and duchess of Alva stood as sponsors, and the nuptial ceremony was performed by Tavera, archbishop of Toledo. The festivities were prolonged through another week. The saloons were filled with the beauty of Castile. The proudest aristocracy in Europe vied with each other in the display of magnificence at the banquet and the tourney: and sounds of merriment succeeded to the tranquillity which had so long reigned in the cloistered shades of Salamanca. On the nineteenth of the month the new-married pair transferred their residence to Valladolid,--a city at once fortunate and fatal to the princess. Well might the chronicler call it "fatal;" for, in less than two years, July 8th, 1545, she there gave birth to a son, the celebrated Don Carlos, whose mysterious fate has furnished so fruitful a theme for speculation. Mary survived the birth of her child but a few days. Had her life been spared, a mother's care might perhaps have given a different direction to his character, and, through this, to his fortunes. The remains of the infanta, first deposited in the cathedral of Granada, were afterwards removed to the Escorial, that magnificent mausoleum prepared by her husband for the royalty of Spain.[24]