to her net by
arts of an entirely different nature. The almoner listened incredulously,
for in his youth the Emperor Charles had joined in the wildest songs of
the soldiery, and had well understood, on certain occasions, how to be
merry with the merry, laugh and carouse in a Flemish tavern. After the
confession the almoner heard things to which he would gladly have shut
his ears, though they proved that the time which the marquise had spent
at the French court had benefited her powers of observation.

Three days before the Emperor, for the first time, had seriously found
fault with Barbara.

It had been impossible for the lady in waiting to discover the cause; but
what she knew certainly was that her lover's censure had roused the girl
to vehement contradiction, and that his Majesty, after a sharp reply, had
been on the point of leaving her. True, the reckless beauty had repented
her imprudent outburst of wrath speedily enough, and had understood how
to conciliate the far too indulgent sovereign by such humility and such
sweet tenderness that he probably must have forgiven her--at least the
farewell had been as affectionate as ever.

Nevertheless, on the following evening, for the first time, he did not
come to the castle, and the marquise had feared that the Emperor might
now withdraw his favour from Barbara, which would have been too soon for
her own wishes.

But yesterday evening, after sunset, the dark litter, to the old
noblewoman's relief, had again stopped behind the garden gate, and the
pleasure of having her lover again had so deeply overjoyed Barbara that
he, too, was infected by her radiant delight.

Then, in the midst of the most tender caresses, he had been summoned out
of the room, and when he returned, with frowning brow, the marquise had
witnessed at least the commencement of a scene which seemed to justify
her opinion that his Majesty: would have no taste for Barbara's utter
freedom from restraint and gay secular songs.

Unfortunately, she had been prematurely driven from her post of
observation; but she had seen the Emperor come in, and Barbara, without
noticing his altered expression, or rather, probably, to cheer him by
something especially merry, gaily began Baldassare Donati's superb
dancing-master's song, "Qui la gagliarda vuol imparare," at the same time
in the merriest, most graceful manner imitating the movements of the
gagliarda dancer.

But Charles soon interrupted her, sharply reques