d doubts of her recovery, it rendered him so anxious that his
relatives noticed it, and attributed it to the momentous declaration of
war which was on the eve of being made.

When the sufferer at last began to recover, his selfishness was
satisfied with the course of events. True, he thought of the late
springtime of love which he had enjoyed as an exquisite gift of Fortune,
and when he remembered many a tender interview with Barbara a bright
smile flitted over his grave countenance. But, on the whole, he was glad
that this love affair had come to so honourable an end. The last few
weeks had claimed his entire time and strength so rigidly and urgently
that he would have been compelled to refuse Barbara's demands upon his
love or neglect serious duties.

Besides, a meeting between Barbara and his nephew and young nieces could
scarcely have been avoided, and this would have cast a shadow upon the
unbounded reverence and admiration paid him by the wholly inexperienced,
childlike young archduchesses, which afforded him sincere pleasure. The
confessor had taken care to bring this vividly before his mind. While
speaking of Barbara with sympathizing compassion, he represented her
illness as a fresh token of the divine favour which Heaven so often
showed to the Emperor Charles, and laid special stress upon the
disadvantages which the longer duration of this love affair--though in
itself, pardonable, nay, even beneficial--would have entailed.

Queen Mary's boy choir was to remain in Ratisbon some time longer,
and whenever the monarch attended their performances--which was almost
daily-the longing for Barbara awoke with fresh strength. Even in the
midst of the most arduous labour he considered the question how it might
be possible to keep her near him--not, it is true, as his favourite, but
as a singer, and his inventive brain hit upon a successful expedient.

By raising her father to a higher rank, he might probably have had her
received by his sister Mary among her ladies in waiting, but then there
would always have been an unwelcome temptation existing. If, on the
other hand, Barbara would decide to take the veil, an arrangement could
easily be made for him to hear her often, and her singing might then
marvellously beautify the old age, so full of suffering and destitute of
pleasure, that awaited him. He realized more and more distinctly that
it was less her rare beauty than the spell of her voice and of her art
which had c