was usually dear to
his heart, and the appearance of the Duke of Saxony certainly seemed to
indicate an outbreak. Many an intimation of the Emperor, Granvelle, and
the almoner seemed to suggest this, and, deeply troubled, she went to
rest.

During the silent night her worst fears became certainty.

She recalled to mind every hour which they had spent alone together. Some
change had certainly taken place in him of late.

During her visit as a page the passion of former days had once more
glowed hotly, as the fire on the hearth blazes up brightly before it
expires.

The alteration had begun with the reproaches for her visit to the
suffering Wolf. Now he was aiming to rid himself of her, though with a
considerate hand. And she, what could she do to win back the man who held
every fixed resolve as firmly as the rocks of the cliff hold the pine
which grows from them?

Nothing, except to bear patiently whatever he inflicted upon her.

This, however, seemed to her so impossible and painful, so humiliating
and shocking, that she sprang from her bed and for a long time paced with
bare feet the sleeping-room, which was but dimly lighted by the lamp. Yet
all her thoughts and pondering were futile, and when she lay down again
she slept until mass.

By daylight she found that she had regarded matters in far too dark a
light. True, Charles probably no longer loved her as ardently as before,
yet she need scarcely fear the worst at present. But the bare thought of
having so soon lost the power to bind him to her aroused a storm of
feeling in her passionate soul, and when it subsided bitter thoughts
followed, and a series of plans which, on closer examination, proved
impracticable.

The day dragged slowly along.

During the ride in the country she was so depressed and downcast that her
companions asked what troubled her.

The lonely evening seemed endless. A short letter from her father, which
informed her that he had not expected too much of himself, and was in
good health, she cast aside after reading. During the night the feeling
of unhappiness and apprehension increased. But the next morning the sun
shone brightly into her windows, and after mass a messenger from the
Golden Cross announced that Duke Maurice of Saxony had arrived, and in
the afternoon his Majesty wished to see her and hear her sing.

This news cheered her wonderfully; but while Fran Lerch was dressing her
she, too, missed the star, and it seemed to Bar