ussels, and had not endeavoured to gain
any.

Loneliness, which she had dreaded in the heyday of her early youth, no
longer alarmed her, for quiet reveries and dreams led her back to the
time when life had been beautiful, when she had enjoyed the love of the
greatest of mortals, and art had given her existence an exquisite
consecration.

With the loss of her voice--she was now aware of it--many of the best
things in her life had also ceased to exist. Her singing might perhaps
have lured back her inconstant lover, and had she come to Brussels
possessing the mastery of her voice which was hers during that happy time
in May, her life would have assumed a totally different form.

Gombert, who had induced her to move hither, had urged her with the best
intentions during their drive to Landshut to change her residence. When
he did so, however, Barbara was still connected with the Emperor, and he
was animated by the hope that the trouble in her throat would be
temporary.

It would have been easy to throw wide to a singer of her ability the
doors of the aristocratic houses which were open to him; for, except his
professional comrades, he associated only with the wealthy nobles in the
upper part of the city, who needed him for the brilliant entertainments
which they understood how to arrange so superbly. The Oranges, Egmont,
Aremberg, Brederode, Aerschot, and other heads of the highest nobility in
Brabant would have vied with one another to present her to their guests,
receive her at their country seats, and invite her to join their riding
parties. Where, on the contrary, could he expect to find a friendly
reception for the wife of a poor officer belonging to the lower nobility,
who was said to have forfeited the Emperor's favour, who could offer
nothing to the ear, and to the eye only a peculiar style of beauty, which
she could enhance neither by magnificent attire nor by any other arts?

Had she been still the Emperor Charles's favourite, or had he bestowed
titles and wealth upon her, more might have been done for her; but as it
was, nothing was left of the favour bestowed by the monarch save the
stain upon her fair name. Deeply as Gombert regretted it, he could
therefore do nothing to make her residence in Brussels more agreeable. He
was not even permitted to open his own house to her, since his wife, who
was neither more jealous nor more scrupulous than most other wives of
artists, positively refused to receive the voic