Willed it at times--so his enemies said--without scruple. Well, perhaps! and if so, why not? would be His Eminence's own argument. Heaven had given him certain weapons: these he used in order to get Heaven's own ends. And in the mind of the Cardinal de Moreno, Heaven was synonymous with the political interests of the Catholic Church. England was too fine a country to be handed over to the schismatic sect without a struggle, the people were too earnest, too deeply religious to be allowed to remain in the enemy's camp. And His Eminence was not only fighting for an important political alliance for his royal master, but also for the reconquest of Catholic England. Wessex, a firm yet unostentatious adherent of the new faith, was to him an opponent in every sense. When the Cardinal first landed in England he had been assured that the volatile and nonchalant Duke would never become a serious obstacle to Spanish plans. The Duke? Perhaps not. But there was the Queen herself, half sick for love! and women's follies have ere now upset the most deeply laid, most important plans. "Ah, my friend!" sighed His Eminence with ill-concealed irritation, as the Marquis de Suarez came idly lounging beside him, "alas! and alack-a-day! when diplomacy hath to reckon with women. . . . Look at that picture!" he added, pointing with be-ringed, slender, tapering finger to the figures of Wessex and Mary Tudor disappearing amid the bosquets of the park, "and think that the destinies of Europe depend upon how a woman of forty can succeed in chaining that butterfly." Don Miguel too had followed with frowning eyes the little comedy just enacted upon the terrace. His intellect, though perhaps not so keen as that of his chief, was nevertheless sufficiently on the alert to recognize that Mary Tudor had distinctly intended to administer a snub to the entire diplomatic corps, by her marked preference for Wessex' sole company. "Chance certainly, seems against your schemes and mine, my lord Cardinal," he said; "for that butterfly is heart-free and indolent, whilst the woman of forty is a queen." "Indolent, yes," mused His Eminence, "but ambitious?" "His friends will supply the ambition," rejoined Don Miguel; "and the Crown of England is a heavy prize." The Cardinal did not speak for a moment. He seemed buried in thought. "I was thinking of the beautiful Lady Ursula Glynde," he said meditatively after a while. "Beautiful indeed. But His Grace is never allowed to see her." "But when he does----" "Oh! if I judge him rightly, when he does see her--she is passing beautiful, remember--his roving fancy will no doubt be enchained for--shall we say--half an hour--perhaps half a day. . . . What then?" "Half an hour!" mused the Cardinal. "Much may be done in half an hour, my lord Marquis." "Bah!" "In half an hour a woman, even if she be a queen, might become piqued and jealous, and the destinies of Europe will be shaped accordingly."