ity to look around them, and
they eagerly availed themselves of it; nay, they almost all glanced at
Barbara, and then, with evident intention, away from her, after Elspet
Zohrer, with a contemptuous elevation of her dainty little snub nose,
had ignored her schoolmate's greeting.

Barbara drew herself up, and the air of unapproachable dignity which she
assumed well suited the aristocratic gentleman at her side, whom every
one knew as the most brilliant, witty, and extravagant noble at the
Emperor's court. At the same time she addressed the baron, whom she had
hitherto kept at a distance, with unconstrained familiarity, and as
the eyes of the mothers also rested upon her, remarks which might
have driven the blood to her cheeks were made upon the intimate terms
existing between the "Emperor's sweetheart" and the profligate and
spendthrift Malfalconnet.

True, Barbara could not understand what they were saying, but it was
easy enough to perceive in what way they were talking about her.

Yet what gave these women the right to condemn her?

They bore her a grudge because she had distinguished herself by her
art, while their little geese were idle at home or, at most, busied
themselves in the kitchen, at the spinning wheel, in dancing, and
whatever was connected with it while waiting for their future husbands.
The favour which the most illustrious of mortals showed her they imputed
to her as a crime.

How could they know that she was more to the Emperor than the artist
whose singing enraptured him?

The girls yonder--her Woller cousins certainly--merely held aloof
because their mothers commanded them to do it. Only in the case of a few
need she fear that jealousy and envy had taken possession of them. Yet
what did she care for them and their behaviour? She looked over their
heads with the air of a queen.

But what was the meaning of this?

As soon as the dance was over, a pretty young girl, scarcely seventeen
years old, with blue forget-me-nots in her fair hair and on her breast,
left her partner and came directly toward Barbara.

Her head drooped and she hesitated shyly as she did so, but her modest
timidity was so charming that the dissolute courtier at Barbara's
side felt a throb of sympathy, and gazed down at her like a benevolent
fatherly friend as she held out her hand to his companion.

He did not think Martina Hiltner actually beautiful as she stood close
before him, but, on the other hand, inexpressibly ch