With a last embrace Mary’s husband left her to enter the barge, whilst she retired to her own apartment, where, leaning upon the sill of an open window, and thinking herself unobserved, she gave way to her sorrow unconstrained, whilst she watched the boat speed down the river, bearing away all she loved on earth. Philip played his part admirably to the last. Standing on the most conspicuous spot of the barge, he continued to raise his hat and waft affectionate salutations to the royal watcher at the window, until a bend in the river shut from his sight the Palace of Greenwich and its mistress. The bitterest disappointment must have been his. France was as far from being subdued as ever, the Emperor was weary of the struggle, old and sick at heart, and yearning to cast his burden upon his son. Peace was absolutely necessary at almost any terms that the French would grant, for it was now clear that England would not, even if she were able, throw her resources into another’s war at the bidding of the King Consort. But Philip showed no sign of defeat. Like a courteous high-bred gentleman, smiling and debonair, he bade a fond farewell for a month to his faded wife, whom, if he could have his way, he wished never more to see.[102] CHAPTER IV 1555-1558 Religious persecution in England—Philip’s attempts to restrain it—His efforts to keep control of English policy—Elizabeth comes to Court—Return of Philip to England—French intrigues—The English drawn into the war—St. Quentin—Loss of Calais—Penury of the English treasury—Illness and death of Mary—Feria’s approaches to Elizabeth