re he courteously dismissed them, and moved onward
attended only by his simple train.

"Heaven be praised!" said the world-weary monarch, as he came nearer his
place of retreat; "after this no more visits of ceremony, no more
receptions!"

But he was not yet rid of show and ostentation. Spending the night at
Medina del Campo, at the house of a rich banker named Rodrigo de Duenas,
the latter, by way of display, warmed the emperor's room with a brazier of
pure gold, in which, in place of common fuel, sticks of cinnamon were
burned. Neither the perfume nor the ostentation was agreeable to Charles,
and on leaving the next morning he punished his over-officious host by
refusing to permit him to kiss his hand, and by causing him to be paid for
the night's lodging like a common inn-keeper.

This was not the first time that cinnamon had been burned in the emperor's
chamber. The same was done by the Fuggers, the famous bankers of Germany,
who had loaned Charles large sums for his expedition against Tunis, and
entertained him at their house on his return. In this case the emperor was
not offended by the odor of cinnamon, since it was modified by a different
and more agreeable perfume. The bankers, grateful to Charles for breaking
up a pestilent nest of Barbary pirates, threw the receipts for the money
they had loaned him into the fire, turning their gold into ashes in his
behalf. This was a grateful sacrifice to the emperor, whose war-like
enterprises consumed more money than he could readily command.

The vicinity of Yuste was reached late in November. Here resided a
community of Jeronymite monks, in whose monastery he proposed to pass the
remainder of his days. There were two roads by which it could be
reached,--one an easy, winding highway, the other a rugged mountain-pass.
But by the latter four days would be saved, and Charles, tired of the long
journey, determined to take it, difficult as it might prove.

He had been warned against the mountain pathway, and found it fully as
formidable as he had been told. A body of hardy rustics were sent ahead,
with pikes, shovels, and other implements, to clear the way. But it was
choked here and there with fallen stones and trunks of trees which they
were unable to move. In some localities the path wound round dizzy
precipices, where a false step would have been fatal. To any traveller it
would have been very difficult; to the helpless emperor it was frightfully
dangerous. The peasa