as kindly toward her as a mother; and before these friendly words the
defiance, doubts, and fear which had closed Barbara's heart melted.

"You may take it from me," she cried, amid her streaming tears.
"What can a poor girl give it save want and shame? Its father, on the
contrary--If he adopts and rears it as his child--O Frau Traut! dare I,
who already love it more than my own life, rob it of the happiness to
which it has a right? If the Emperor acknowledges it, whether it is a
boy or a girl, merciful Heaven, to what Magnificence, what splendour,
what honour my child may attain! My brain often reels when I think of
it. The little daughter of Johanna Van der Gheynst a Duchess of Parma,
and why should he place the girl whom I shall perhaps give him in a more
humble position? Or if Heaven should grant me a son, his father will
raise him to a still greater height, and I have already seen him before
me a hundred times as he hangs the Fleece on the red ribbon round his
neck."

Here her voice, still uncertain, failed, but she allowed Frau Traut to
clasp her to her heart and, in her joy at this decision, which relieved
her of a grave anxiety, to kiss her brow and cheeks. She had at last
perceived, the kindly consoler assured the weeping girl, what the most
sacred duty commanded, and the course that promised to render her, after
so much suffering, one of the happiest of mothers. All that had hovered
before her as glittering dreams would be fulfilled, and when her child,
as the Emperor's, took precedence of the highest and greatest in the
land, she could say to herself that it owed this to the sacrifice which
she, its mother, had voluntarily made for its sake.

Barbara had told herself the same thing in many lonely hours, and most
frequently in the brick church at Abbach, opposite to the image of
the Mater dolorosa. She whose intercession never remained unheard had
yielded up, with an aching heart, her divine son, and she must imitate
her. And how much easier was her fate than that of the stainless virgin,
who beheld her child, the Redeemer of the world, die upon the cross,
while hers, if she resigned him, would attain the highest earthly
happiness!

Frau Traut by no means overlooked the vanity of these motives. She was
only too well aware that there is no greater boon for a child than the
mother's loyal, anxious love, and Barbara's delusion grieved her. She
would gladly have cried: "Keep your child, overwhelm it with love,