se, she timidly lowered her blue eyes. But not a word of the
sovereign had escaped her, and, though she still lacked the power of
speech, she found courage to smile and shake her head in denial.

The Emperor did not miss a single change of feature, and, swiftly
understanding her mute contradiction, went on gaily: "Look! look! So,
fairest of the fair, you refuse to acknowledge our glorious victory?
That bears witness to a specially independent comprehension of things.
But we, how are we to explain such a denial of an accomplished fact?"

Then Barbara summoned up courage and answered, still with downcast eyes,
"But, your Majesty, how can I regard myself as conquered and captured
when I voluntarily yielded to your Majesty's wish?"

"And may I perhaps also hope that it gives you pleasure to grant my
entreaty?" asked the sovereign in a subdued tone, gazing as he spoke
deep into the eyes which the young girl had just raised to his.

Barbara did not instantly find the reply she sought, and only bent her
head in assent, but the Emperor was not satisfied with this mute answer,
and eagerly desired to learn whether it was so difficult for her to
admit what he so ardently wished to hear.

Meanwhile her quick intellect had found the fitting response, and, with
a look which told the questioner more than she intended to betray, she
answered softly: "Why should I not have fulfilled your Majesty's request
gladly and proudly? But what followed the walk here, what befell me
here, is so much more beautiful and greater--"

"And may we know," interrupted the Emperor urgently, "what you find here
that affords your heart so much pleasure?

"You and your favour," she answered quickly, and the flush which
suddenly crimsoned her cheeks showed him how deeply she was moved.

Then Charles went close to her and whispered: "And do you wish to know,
most bewitching woman, how he, in whose presence you confess that you
are glad to remain, looked forward to your coming? As he would greet
happiness, spring. And note that I look you in the face, it seems as
though Easter bells were pealing the resurrection of a love long buried
in this breast. And you, maiden, you will not belie this hope?"

Barbara clung to the back of the chair for support, while from her
deeply agitated soul struggled the exclamation: "This poor heart,
my lord, belongs to you--to you alone! How it mastered me, who can
describe? But here, my lord, now----"

Then the monarch whi