from asking her more minute questions, that the matter concerned
an offer whose acceptance promised to make him a prosperous man. She
was expecting her Erasmus home from Wittenberg that evening or early
the next morning, and to find Wolf here again would be a welcome boon to
him.

What had the syndic in view? Evidently something good. Old Ursel should
help counsel him. The doctor liked her, and, in spite of the severe
illness, she had kept her clever brain.

He would take Barbara into his confidence, too, for what concerned him
concerned her also.

But when he turned from the Haidplatz into Red Cock Street he saw three
fine horses in front of the cantor house. A groom held their bridles.
The large chestnut belonged to the servant. The other two-a big-boned
bay and an unusually wellformed Andalusian gray, with a small head and
long sweeping tail--had ladies' saddles.

The sister of rich old Peter Schlumperger, who was paying court to
Barbara, had dismounted from the former. She wanted to persuade the
young girl, in her brother's name, to join the party to the wood
adjoining Prfifening Abbey.

At first she had opposed the marriage between the man of fifty and
Barbara; but when she saw that her brother's affection had lasted two
years, nay, had increased more and more, and afforded new joy to the
childless widower, she had made herself his ally.

She, too, was widowed and had a large fortune of her own. Her husband, a
member of the Kastenmayr family, had made her his heiress. Blithe young
Barbara, whose voice and beauty she knew how to value, could bring new
life and brightness into the great, far too silent house. The girl's
poverty was no disadvantage; she and her brother had long found it
difficult to know what to do with the vast wealth which, even in these
hard times, was constantly increasing, and the Blomberg family was as
aristocratic as their own.

The widow's effort to persuade the girl to ride had not been in vain,
for Wolf met Frau Kastenmayr on the stairs, and Barbara followed in a
plain dark riding habit, which had been her mother's.

So, in spite of Maestro Appenzelder, Miss Self-Will had really
determined to leave the city.

Her hasty information that the Emperor did not wish to hear the choir
at noon somewhat relieved his mind; but when, in answer to his no less
hasty question about the singing at the late meal, the answer came,
"What is that to me?" he perceived that the sensitiveness which
ye