"Whom can you mean, Annie?"
"I think I can tell you," said Emily; "the incident you have mentioned was at the time believed to be a mere jest, but the vanquished never entirely forgave his opponent; they were a French and an English king."
"You have discovered the truth," replied Mrs. Macdonald, "and I will now continue. A cavalcade has approached an abbey; a sick man, scarcely able to bear the exertion, is mounted on a mule; he shows every symptom of approaching death, but even then his former life might be traced in the troubled expression still visible on his face; his days have been spent in intrigues. The entreaty for admission into the monastery is granted, and the abbot kindly receives him. He is lifted from the mule, and carried to his bed, from which he never rose again."
"The only similar instance I can now remember," said Edward, "is that of Charles V., and this would be the history of Germany instead of England."
"You have," rejoined his aunt, "guessed the period of my account nearer than you think. Charles V. went to the monastery of St. Justus some time before his death, which was in the year 1558; the person I have brought before your notice was taken to Leicester Abbey almost in his last hours, and it was twenty-eight years before the emperor's death."
"I think," added Mrs. Arabin, "both were more than once concerned in the same schemes and intrigues."
"Was not your hero disappointed of becoming a pope, mama?"
"I see by your question that he is known to you. This prelate's ambition and consequent life of struggle, affords one of the strongest lessons in history, and his latter days were rendered miserable by the passions of his earlier career. I think, Mary, you must remember his rooms at Hampton Court."
"Yes, I do, mama; a beautiful carved wood screen was said to have belonged to him."
"I will now resume our game," said Mrs. Arabin. "A lady is seen sitting with one attendant, who appears to have been trying to lighten her cares by playing a mandolin; but her mistress's brow, although serene, is overcast; she knows she has been treated unjustly; she may also mourn for a little daughter, whose prospects are blighted by her mother's troubles. There are traces of splendor around, and the books and employments of the recluse convince us of her talents and accomplished tastes."