of Escovedo. That was why he bade them
proceed against me only on the lesser charge of corruption.

I was taken to the fortress of Turruegano, and there they came to
demand of me the surrender of my papers which the alcalde had failed to
discover at my house. I imagined the uneasiness of Philip in dispatching
those emissaries. I almost laughed as I refused. Those papers were my
buckler against worse befalling me than had befallen already. Even now,
if too hard pressed, I might find the opportunity of breaking my bonds
by means of them. I sometimes wonder why I did not apply myself to that.
Yet there is small cause for wonder, really. From boyhood, almost, King
Philip had been my master. Loyalty to him was a habit that went to the
very roots of my being. I had served him without conscience and without
scruple, and the notion of betraying him, save as a very last and very
desperate resource, was inconceivable. I do not think he ever knew the
depth and breadth of that loyalty of mine.

My refusal led those sons of dogs to attempt to frighten my wife with
threats of unmentionable horrors unless she delivered up the papers
I had secreted. She and our children were threatened with perpetual
imprisonment on bread and water if she persisted in refusing to
surrender them. But she held out against all threats, and remained firm
even under the oily persecution to the same end of Philip's confessor,
Frey Diego. Finally, I was notified that, in view of her stubbornness
and my own, she and our children were cast into prison, and that there
they would remain until I saw fit to become submissive to the royal
will.

It is a subtle form of mental torture that will bid a man contemplate
the suffering for his sake to which those who are dear to him are being
subjected.

I raged and stormed before the officer who brought me this infamous
piece of news. I gave vent to my impotent anger in blasphemous
expressions that were afterwards to be used against me. The officer was
subtly sympathetic.

"I understand your grief, Don Antonio," he said. "Believe me, I feel
for you--so much that I urge you to set an end to the captivity of those
dear ones who are innocent, who are suffering for your sake."

"And so make an end of myself?" I asked him fiercely.

"Reflection may show that even that is your duty in the circumstances."

I looked into his smug face, and I was within an ace of striking him.
Then I controlled myself, and my will was snap