n my modest banquet with the singing of the most gifted artist
in the world."

"Gladly, unless his Majesty forbids me to do so," replied Barbara.

A few minutes later she informed her passionate young ducal lover, who
wished to call upon her in her own home that very evening, that it would
be utterly impossible. With an air of the greatest regret, she said that
her little castle was guarded like an endangered citadel; and when the
duke proposed a meeting, he was interrupted by the Bishop of Arras, who
desired to speak to him about "important business."

In spite of the late hour, the minister, even without the girl's
request, would have sought an audience with the duke, and to the
ambitious Maurice politics and the important plans being prepared
for immediate execution were of infinitely greater value than a love
adventure, no matter what hours of pleasure it promised to afford.

So Barbara succeeded in taking leave of the duke without giving him
offence.

The marquise was waiting for her with ill-repressed indignation. The
weary old woman had wanted to return home long before, but the command
of the grand chamberlain compelled her to wait for Barbara and accompany
her the short distance to the house.

With an angry glance and a few bitter-sweet words of greeting, the old
dame entered the litter. Barbara preferred to walk beside hers, for
clouds had darkened the sky; it had become oppressively sultry, and she
felt as if she would stifle in the close, swaying box.

Four torch-bearers accompanied the litters. She ordered the knight and
the two lackeys whom Quijada had commissioned to attend her to remain
behind, and also refused the service of the little Maltese, who--oh, how
gladly!--would have acted as a page and carried her train.

As the shipwrecked man on a plank amid the endless surges longs for
land, Barbara longed to get away, far away from the noise of the
festival. Yet she dreaded the solitude which she was approaching, for
she now perceived how foolishly she had acted, and with what sinful
recklessness she had perhaps forfeited the happiness of her life on this
luckless evening.

But need she idly wait for the doom to which she was condemned? He whose
bright eyes could beam on her so radiantly had just wounded her with
angry glances, like a foe or a stern judge, and his indignation had not
been groundless.

What had life to offer her without his love? The wantonly bold venture
had been baffled. Yet