l conclusion the
hazardous enterprise which she had already given up as hopeless, and,
while walking on, her brain toiled diligently over plans for the campaign
which would compel the great general to return with twofold devotion the
love of which he had deprived her.

So, in the intense darkness, she followed the light which the torches
cast upon the uneven path. At first she had taken up the train of her
dress; now it was sweeping the dusty road.

What did she care for the magnificent robe if she regained Charles's
love? Of what use would it be if she had lost it, lost it forever?

Before the litters reached the little castle a gust of wind rose, driving
large drops of rain, straw, and withered leaves-Barbara could not imagine
whence they came in the month of May--into her face. She was obliged to
struggle against these harbingers of the coming tempest, and her heart
grew lighter during the conflict. She was not born to endure, but to
contend.

The scene of the festivities emptied rapidly. The duke and Granvelle
drove back to the city in the minister's carriage. Malfalconnet and
Quijada, in spite of the gathering storm, went home on foot.

"What a festival!" said Don Luis scornfully.

"In former days such things presented a more superb spectacle even here.
But now! No procession, no scarlet save on the cardinals, no golden
cross, no venerable priest's head on the whole pleasure ground, and,
moreover, neither consecration nor the pious exhortation to remember
Heaven, whence comes the joy in which the crowd is rejoicing."

"I, too, missed something here," cried the baron eagerly, "and now I
learn through you what it is."

"Will not the heretics themselves gradually feel that they are robbing
the pasty of faith of its truffles--what am I saying?--of its salt? May
their dry black bread choke them! The only thing that gave the unseasoned
meal a certain charm was the capitally performed gagliarde.

"Which angered his Majesty more deeply than you imagine," replied Don
Luis. "The singer's days are probably numbered. It is a pity! She was
wonderfully successful in subduing the spirits of melancholy."

"The war, on which we can now depend, will do that equally well, if not
better," interrupted the baron. "Within a short time I, too, have lost
all admiration for this fair one. Cold-hearted and arrogant. Capable of
the utmost extremes when her hot blood urges her on. Unpopular with the
people to whom she belongs, and,