rought her as a
genuine blessing, for it seemed to invite her to go to Ems and do all
in her power for the restoration of her voice. The hoarseness was now
barely perceptible in her speech, and Dr. Mathys, whom she visited in
April, encouraged her, and told her of really marvellous cures wrought
by the famous old springs.

When May came and the trees and shrubs in leafy Brussels adorned
themselves with new buds, she could not help thinking more frequently,
as usual in this month, of her wasted love and of the man for whom it
had bloomed and who had destroyed it. So she liked to pass through Lion
Street in her walks, for it led her by his house. She might easily meet
him again there, and she longed to see his face once more before the
departure for Spain, which would remove him from her sight forever.

And behold! One sunny noon he was borne toward her in a litter. She
stopped as though spellbound, bowing profoundly; her glance as he passed
met his, and he waved his emaciated hand--yes, she was not mistaken--he
waved it to her.

For an instant it seemed as if a crimson rose had bloomed in the midst
of winter snows. She had been as sure that he had not forgotten her as
that she herself had not ceased to think of him.

Now her confidence was, as it were, confirmed by letter and seal, and
this made her happy.

The man in the litter had been only the wreck of the Charles whom she
loved; even the fiery light in his eyes, though not extinguished, had
appeared subdued and veiled. Other women would probably have thought him
repulsively plain, but what did she care for his looks? Each of them was
still a part of the other, for her image lived in his soul, as his dwelt
in hers.

Barbara did not take as long a walk as usual; but when she was again
approaching the house occupied by the abdicated sovereign, Dr. Mathys
came toward her. The expression of his broad, dignified face suited the
bright May morning; nay, she imagined that his step was lighter and less
sedate than usual.

During the whole decade which they had known each other he had never
flattered her, but to-day, after the first greeting, he began his
conversation with the question:

"Do you know, Frau Barbara, that you were never more beautiful and
charming than just at this very time? Perhaps it is the mourning which
is so becoming to your pink-and-white complexion and the somewhat
subdued lustre of your golden hair. But why do I feed your vanity with
such spe