e to the sedan chair, behind which a mounted groom
was holding Quijada's noble steed by the bridle.

While Don Luis was helping Barbara into the chair, she asked in a low
tone what she was to think of this act of violence, and where she was
being taken.

"His Majesty's command," was the reply. "I think you will be satisfied
with your lodgings here." The girl shrugged her shoulders indignantly,
and asked if she might only know how it had been discovered that she was
on her way to Landshut; but Don Luis, in a gayer manner than his usual
one, answered, "A little bird sang it to us, and I waited for you just
here because, at the end of the bridge, we are most certain to meet
whoever is obliged to cross either branch of the river." Then, in a
tone so grave as to exclude any idea of mockery, he added, "You see how
kindly his Majesty has provided for your welfare."

Closing the sedan chair as he spoke, he rode on before her.

Meanwhile contradictory emotions were seething and surging in Barbara's
breast.

Where were they taking her?

Did the Emperor intend to make her a prisoner? He certainly possessed
the power. Who would dare to resist him?

She could attain no clearness of thought, for, while giving free course
to the indignation of her soul, she was gazing out at the open sides of
the sedan chair.

Every house, every paving stone here was familiar and awakened some
memory. A crowd of people surrounded her, and among them appeared many
a foreign soldier on foot and on horseback, who would have been well
worthy of an attentive glance. But what did she care for the Italians
in helmets and coats of mail who filled the Altstadt--the main business
street of Landshut--through which she was being carried? She doubtless
cast a glance toward the Town Hall, where her uncle was now devising
means to provide shelter for this legion of soldiers and steeds,
doubtless put her head a little out of the window as she approached the
houses and arcades in the lower stories, and the Lorberer mansion, with
the blunt gable, where she had spent such happy days, appeared. But she
quickly drew it back again; if any of her relatives should see her, what
answer could she make to questions?

But no one perceived her, and who knows whether they would not
have supposed the delicate, troubled face, short locks of hair, and
unnaturally large eyes to be those of another girl who only resembled
the blooming, healthful Barbara of former days?

Sh