would have preferred
to travel with the woman of noble birth.

Besides, she could have confided the care of her sick guest to Lamperi
more confidently than to the other. But the faithful old soul's wish
to see the boy whose entrance into the world she had been permitted to
greet was too justifiable for her to be able to refuse it.

How much Barbara had to do before her departure! Most of the time was
consumed by the suffering maestro and the arrangements which she had
to make for him. She did not leave his bedside until the arrival of the
sister who was to assist her companion in nursing her old friend until
her return. She certainly would not be absent long; the important
things John had to say might probably require great haste, while, on
the contrary, whatever needed time for execution could be comfortably
despatched during his stay in the Netherlands. So she assured Feys, who
regarded her as his good angel and felt her departure painfully,
that she would soon be with him again, and then gave the order to ask
Hannibal Melas, in her name, to pay frequent visits to the sick maestro.
It was very hard for her to leave him and neglect the duties which she
had undertaken, but in the presence of the summons addressed to her
every other consideration must be silent.

When Barbara returned to her own apartments Lamperi was still busied
with the packing.

Several dresses--first of all the new Brussels gown and its belongings,
even the pomegranate blossoms which the garden city of Ghent
had supplied as something rare in November for her mistress's
adornment--were placed carefully in the largest trunk, while Barbara,
overpowered by inexpressible restlessness, paced the room with hasty
steps from side to side.

Only when one or another article was taken from a casket or box did
she pause in her walk. Among the things selected was the pearl necklace
which Charles had given her, and the only note her royal lover had ever
written, which ran, "This evening, quia amore langueo." This she laid
with her own hand among the laces and pomegranate blossoms, for this
cry of longing might teach her son what she had once been to his father.
When John had seen her and felt how clear he was to her, he must become
aware that he had another mother besides the Spanish lady whom he called
"Tia," and who made his underclothing; then he could no more forget her
than that other woman.

Lastly, she summoned the major-domo and told him what he mu