res, but his time was limited, and he must,
unfortunately, content himself with this last brief meeting.

While speaking, he rose to leave her; but she stopped him, saying in a
low tone: "Surely you know me, Wolf, and are aware that I do not always
persist in the resolves to which my hasty temper urges me. It shall not
be my fault if the peace of your Dona Magdalena's soul remains clouded
longer, and so I release you from your vow so far as she is concerned."

Then, for the first time since their meeting, the familiar, pleasant
"Wawerl" greeted her, and with tearful eyes she clasped his outstretched
hands.

Wolf had just told her that his time was short; but now he willingly
allowed himself to be persuaded to put down his sword and hat, and when
Frau Lamperi brought in some refreshments, he recognised her, and asked
her several pleasant questions.

It seemed as though Barbara's change of mood had overthrown the barrier
which her stern refusal had raised between them. Calm and cheerful as
in former days he sat before her, listening while, in obedience to his
invitation, she told him, with many a palliation and evasion, about her
married life and the children. She made her story short, in order at
last to hear some further particulars concerning the welfare of her
distant son.

What Wolf related of the outward appearance of her John, to whose new
name, Geronimo, she gradually became accustomed, Barbara could complete
from her vivid recollection of this rare child. He had remained strong
and healthy, and the violinist Massi, his good wife, and their daughter
loved the little fellow and cared for him as if he were their own son
and brother.

The musician, it is true, lived plainly enough, but there was no want of
anything in the modest country house with the gay little flower garden.
Nor did the boy lack playmates, though they were only the children of
the farmers and townspeople of Leganes. Clad but little better than
they, he shared their merry, often rough games. Geronimo called the
violinist and his wife father and mother.

Then Barbara desired a more minute description of his dress, and when
Wolf, laughing, confessed that he wore a cap only when he went to
church, and on hot summer days he had even met him barefoot, she clasped
her hands in astonishment and dismay. Not until her friend assured her
that among the thin, dark-haired Spaniards, with their close-cropped
heads and flashing black eyes, he, with his fl