e presence adorned the festival--the Emperor and Queen Mary of
Hungary.

These expeditions were evidently not to meet a lover, yet from that hour
he cherished a conviction, mingled with a bitter sense of resentment,
that she went to the festivals which his Majesty attended in order to see
the man whom she had once loved, and whose image even now she could not
wholly efface from her imagination, perhaps also from her heart.

For her manner to the children, on the contrary, he could find no
plausible explanation. Her love for them was unmistakable. Yet what was
the meaning of the compassionate manner with which she treated them,
talked to them, spoke of them, until it nearly drove him frantic? She
often treated the healthy, merry older boy as if he was ill and needed
comfort, and the pretty infant in the cradle was addressed in the same
way.

If he summoned up his courage and openly reproved her, she always
answered in general terms, such as: "What do you mean? Are we not all
born to suffer?" or, "Shall we envy them because they have entered life
to endure pain and to die?"

Not until Pyramus, with sorrowful emotion, entreated her not to speak of
the children as if they had been given to them for a punishment and not
for a joy, she imposed a certain degree of constraint upon herself and
changed her manner of speech; yet the expression of her eyes revealed
that she felt no really glad, unconstrained joy in her sons.

Though she denied it, she knew how to explain this manner to herself;
for, after her attention had been directed to it, she secretly admitted
that the sight of the two dear children who were wholly hers always
reminded her of the third who had been taken from her, whom she was
permitted to see very rarely, and only in secret, yet who, beside the
others, seemed like a young lion beside modest lambs.

She cherished no desire for a new love, though the lukewarm blending of
gratitude and good will which she bestowed upon her husband did not even
remotely deserve this lofty name.

There was no lack of gallants in Brussels who noticed and were attracted
by her, but whoever knew or had heard of Pyramus Kogel avoided
interfering with his rights; for he was numbered among the best swordsmen
in Brussels, and the air with which the tender-hearted husband wore his
long rapier was decidedly threatening.

Besides, Barbara herself also knew how to protect herself against any
intrusiveness with haughty sharpness.