opposition to his wish. Besides, she said, his Majesty
meant kindly by Barbara and, so far as her power extended, everything
should be done to soften her hard destiny.

She knew the whole history of the girl intrusted to her care, yet she
would scarcely have undertaken the task committed to her had she not been
aware that every determination of the Emperor was immovable. Besides, she
could also strive to render the hard fate imposed upon the poor girl more
endurable.

Barbara had listened eagerly to the story without interrupting her; then
she desired to learn further particulars concerning the health of the man
from whom even now her soul could not be sundered and, finally, she urged
her to talk about herself.

So time passed with the speed of the wind. The candles in the candelabrum
were already half burned down when Fran Dubois at last urged going to
rest.

Barbara felt that she was fortunate to have found so kind and sensible a
companion and, while the Rhinelander was helping her undress, she begged
her in future to call her by her Christian name "Gertrud," or, as people
liked to address her, "Frau Traut."

CHAPTER VIII.

When Barbara rose from her couch the next morning it was no longer early
in the day. She had slept soundly and dreamlessly for several hours, then
she had been kept awake by the same thoughts which had pressed upon her
so constantly of late.

She would defy Charles's cruel demand. The infuriating compulsion
inflicted upon her could only strengthen her resolve. If she was dragged
to a convent by force, she would refuse, at the ceremony of profession,
to become a nun.

She thought of a pilgrimage to induce Heaven to restore the lost melody
of her voice. But meanwhile the longing to see the Emperor Charles's face
once more again and again overpowered her. On the other hand, the desire
to speak to him and upbraid him to his face for the wrong he had done her
was soon silenced; it could only spoil his memory of her if he should
hear the discordant tones which inflicted pain on her own ear.

Another train of thoughts had also kept her awake. How was her father
faring? Had he learned what she feared to confess to him? What had
befallen him, and what had the recruiting officer to tell of his fate?

She was to know soon enough, for she had scarcely risen from breakfast
when a ducal servant announced Sir Pyramus.

Barbara with anxious heart awaited his entrance, and as she stood there,
he