a man she would have found her greatest happiness, as
her father did, in battle, in measuring her own strength with another's.
Now she was obliged to defend herself with other weapons than blunt
swords, and when she saw the champions, six against six, again rush upon
one another, and one side drive the other back, her vivid imagination
transported her into the midst of the victors, and it seemed as if the
marquise and the whole throng of arrogant dames in the tent, as well as
the Ratisbon women on the stands who had insulted her by their haughty
airs of virtue, were fleeing from her presence.

How repulsive these envious, hypocritical people were! How she hated
everything that threatened to estrange her lover's heart! To them also
belonged the scoundrel who, she supposed, had betrayed the sale of the
star to the Emperor. She resolved to confess to Charles how she had been
led to commit this offence, which was indeed hard to forgive. Perhaps
all would then be well again, for in this unfortunate action she could
recognise the sole wrong which she had ever inflicted upon her lover.
She could not help attributing his humiliating manner to it alone, for
her love had always remained the same, and only yesterday, after she had
sung before the Duke of Saxony, Appenzelder, who never flattered, had
assured her that her voice had gained in power, her expression in depth,
and she herself felt that it was so.

Music was still the firmest bond that united her to her lover. So long
as her art remained faithful, he could not abandon her. This conviction
was transformed into certainty when the final performance began, and the
Ratisbon choir, under the direction of Damian Feys, commenced the mighty
hymn with which the composer, Jean Courtois, had greeted the Emperor
Charles in Cambray:

"Venite populi terrai"--"Come hither, ye nations of the earth"--this
motet for four voices called imperiously to all mankind like a joyous
summons.

"Ave Cesar, ave majestas sacra," sounded in solemn, religious tones
the greeting to the greatest of monarchs. It seemed to transport the
listener to the summit of the cathedral, as the choir now called to the
ruler that the earth was full of his renown. The Ratisbon singers and
the able Feys did their best, and this mighty act of homage of all the
nations of the earth by no means failed to produce its effect upon him
to whom it was addressed.

While Barbara listened, deeply agitated, she did not avert he