son," asked Don Luis, "would you receive her gladly as a
daughter-in-law?"

A gesture of denial from the valet gave eloquent expression of his
opinion; but Quijada went on in a tone of anxious inquiry: "Then what
will she whom he loves be to the master whose happiness and peace are as
dear to you as to me?"

Adrian started, and answered firmly: "For him, it seems to me, she will
perhaps be the right one, for what power could she assert against his?
And, besides, there is something in his Majesty, as well as in this
girl, which distinguishes them from other mortals. What do I mean by
that? I see and hear it, but I can neither exactly understand nor name
it."

"That might be difficult even for a more adroit speaker," replied
Quijada; "but I think I know to what you allude. You and I, Master
Adrian, have hearts in our breasts, like thousands of other people, and
in our heads what is termed common sense. In his Majesty something else
is added. It seems as though he has at command a messenger from heaven
who brings him thought and decisions."

"That's it!" exclaimed Adrian eagerly; "and whenever she raises
her voice to sing, a second one stands by the side of this Barbara
Blomberg."

"Only we do not yet know," observed Quijada anxiously, "whether
this second one with the singer is a messenger from heaven, like his
Majesty's, or an emissary of hell."

The valet shrugged his shoulders irresolutely, and said quietly: "How
could I venture to express an opinion about so noble an art? But when
I was listening to the hymn to the Virgin yesterday, it seemed as if an
angel from heaven was singing from her lips."

"Let us hope that you may be right," replied the other. "But no matter!
I think I know whence comes the invisible ally his Majesty has at his
disposal. It is the Holy Ghost that sends him--there is no doubt of it!
His control is visible everywhere. With miraculous power he urges him
on in advance of all others, and even of himself. This becomes most
distinctly perceptible in war."

"That is true," declared the valet, "and your lordship has surely hit
the right clew. For"--he glanced cautiously around him and lowered his
voice--"whenever I put on my master's armour I always feel how he is
trembling--yes, trembling, your lordship. His face is livid, and the
drops of perspiration on his brow are not due solely to the heat."

"And then," cried Quijada, his black eyes sparkling with a fiery
light--"then in his agitati