clever connoisseur of mankind placed Barbara in contrast to all
the obscure, insignificant, and ridiculous personages whom he pretended
to have met. The peculiar charm which her individuality thus obtained
corresponded with the idea which the monarch himself had formed of the
expected guest, and it flattered him to hear his conjecture so remarkably
confirmed.

A few questions from the monarch followed the baron's report. While the
latter was still answering the last one, Chamberlain de Praet announced
the singer's arrival, and Count Bueren escorted the aged Marquise de
Leria to the monarch.

The Emperor went at once to the table, and as he descended the stairs,
leaning lightly on Malfalconnet's arm, it was scarcely perceptible that
he used the left foot less firmly than the other.

According to his command, only the small table at which he was to sit
with the marquise had been laid in the dining-room. The boy choir had
taken a position opposite to it.

At his entrance Barbara rose quickly from the chair, into which she had
sunk by no means from weariness.

With a throbbing heart, and still heavily oppressed by anxiety, she
awaited the next moments and what they would bring.

The Benedictio Mensae was again to open the concert. She needed no notes
for this familiar music. Yet she looked toward Appenzelder, who had
thanked her for her appearance as if she had done him a great favour.

Now the orchestra behind her was silent. Now she saw the lackeys and
attendants bow profoundly. Now Appenzelder raised his arm.

She saw it, but he had not yet touched the desk with the little ebony
staff, and she availed herself of the pause to glance toward the
anxiously expected sovereign, whose presence she felt.

There he stood.

Barbara scarcely noticed the old lady at his left; he, he alone
captivated her eyes, her heart, her senses, her whole being.

What a happy surprise!

How Wolf, Maestro Gombert, and others had described the Emperor, and how
he stood before her!

This chivalrous, superb, almost youthful gentleman and hero, whose
haughty, self-assured bearing so admirably suited the magnificence of his
rich-hued garments, was said to be a gouty old man, bowed by the weight
of care! Had it not been so abominable, it would have tempted her to
laugh.

How petty men were, how cruel was the fate of the great, to whom envy
clings like their own shadow, and whose image was basely distorted even
by those who knew the gra