which to her was so rich in beautiful and terrible
memories.

On the way she met Frau Lerch. The old woman had kept her keenness of
vision and, though Barbara tried to avoid her, the little ex-maid stopped
her and asked scornfully:

"Here in Ratisbon again, sweetheart? How fresh you look after your severe
illness!--yet you're still on shank's mare, instead of in the gold coach
drawn by white horses."

Barbara abruptly turned her back upon her and went home.

As she was passing the Town Hall Pyramus Kogel left it, and she stopped
as he modestly greeted her.

Very distinguished and manly he looked in his glittering armour, with the
red and yellow sash and the rapier with its large, flashing basket-hilt
at his side; yet she said to herself: "Poor, handsome fellow! How many
would be proud to lean on your arm! Why do you care for one who can never
love you, and to whom you will appear insignificant to the end?"

Then she kindly clasped the hand which he extended, and permitted him to
accompany her home. On the Haidplatz she asked him whether he had read
the letter which he brought from her father.

He hesitatingly assented. Barbara lowered her eyes, and added softly:

"It is my own dear father to whom you have been kind, and my warmest
gratitude is due to you for it."

The young officer's heart throbbed faster; but as they turned into Red
Cock Street she asked the question:

"You are going from here to Brussels, are you not?"

"To Brussels," he repeated, scarcely able to control his voice.

She raised her large eyes to him, and, after a hard struggle, the words
escaped her lips:

"I learned in Landshut, and it was confirmed by my father's letter, that
you are aware of what I am accused, and that you know--I committed the
sin with which they charge me."

In the very same place where, on an evening never to be forgotten, he had
received the first sharp rebuff from Barbara, she now confessed her guilt
to him--he doubtless noticed it. It must have seemed like a sign from
heaven that it was here she voluntarily approached him, nay, as it were,
offered herself to him. But he loved her, and he would have deemed it
unchivalrous to let her feel now that their relation to one another had
changed. So he only exclaimed with joyous confidence:

"And yet, Barbara, I trustfully place happiness and honour in your
beloved hands. You have long been clear to me, but now for the first time
I believe confidently and firmly that