CHAPTER III.
Silence pervaded the little castle in Prebrunn; nay, there were dayswhen a thick layer of straw in the road showed that within the house laysome one seriously ill, who must be guarded from every sound.
In Ratisbon and the Golden Cross, on the contrary, the noise and bustleconstantly increased. On the twenty-eighth of May, King Ferdinandarrived with his family to visit his brother Charles. The Reichstagwould be opened on the fifth of June, and attracted to the Danube manyprinces and nobles, but neither the Elector John of Saxony nor theLandgrave Philip of Hesse, the heads of the Smalcald league. KingFerdinand's two daughters were to be married the first of July, andmany a distinguished guest came to Ratisbon in June. Besides, severalsoldiers began to appear.
The Emperor Charles's hours were filled to the brim with work and socialobligations. The twinges of the gout had not wholly disappeared, butremained bearable.
The quiet good-breeding of the two young archduchesses pleased theEmperor, and their young brother Maximilian's active mind and gay,chivalrous nature delighted him, though many a trait made him, as wellas the confessor, doubt whether he did not incline more toward theevangelical doctrine than beseemed a son of his illustrious race. ButCharles himself, in his youth, had not been a stranger to such leanings.If Maximilian was intrusted with the reins of government, he wouldperceive in what close and effective union stood the Church and thestate. Far from rousing his opposition by reproaches, the shrewd unclewon his affection and merely sowed in his mind, by apt remarks, theseeds which in due time would grow and bear their fruit.
The Austrians watched with sincere admiration the actually exhaustingindustry of the illustrious head of their house, for he allowed himselfonly a few hours' sleep, and when Granvelle had worked with him untilhe was wearied, he buried himself, either alone or with some officersof high rank, in charts of the seat of war, in making calculations,arranging the levying of recruits and military movements, and yetdid not withdraw from the society of his Viennese relatives and otherdistinguished guests.
Still, he did not forget Barbara. The leech was daily expected to givea report of her health, and when, during the middle of June, Dr. Mathysexpressed doubts of her recovery, it rendered him so anxious that hisrelatives noticed it, and attributed it to the momentous declaration ofwar which was on the eve of being made.
When the sufferer at last began to recover, his selfishness wassatisfied with the course of events. True, he thought of the latespringtime of love which he had enjoyed as an exquisite gift of Fortune,and when he remembered many a tender interview with Barbara a brightsmile flitted over his grave countenance. But, on the whole, he was gladthat this love affair had come to so honourable an end. The last fewweeks had claimed his entire time and strength so rigidly and urgentlythat he would have been compelled to refuse Barbara's demands upon hislove or neglect serious duties.
Besides, a meeting between Barbara and his nephew and young nieces couldscarcely have been avoided, and this would have cast a shadow upon theunbounded reverence and admiration paid him by the wholly inexperienced,childlike young archduchesses, which afforded him sincere pleasure. Theconfessor had taken care to bring this vividly before his mind. Whilespeaking of Barbara with sympathizing compassion, he represented herillness as a fresh token of the divine favour which Heaven so oftenshowed to the Emperor Charles, and laid special stress upon thedisadvantages which the longer duration of this love affair--though initself, pardonable, nay, even beneficial--would have entailed.
Queen Mary's boy choir was to remain in Ratisbon some time longer,and whenever the monarch attended their performances--which was almostdaily-the longing for Barbara awoke with fresh strength. Even in themidst of the most arduous labour he considered the question how it mightbe possible to keep her near him--not, it is true, as his favourite, butas a singer, and his inventive brain hit upon a successful expedient.
By raising her father to a higher rank, he might probably have had herreceived by his sister Mary among her ladies in waiting, but then therewould always have been an unwelcome temptation existing. If, on theother hand, Barbara would decide to take the veil, an arrangement couldeasily be made for him to hear her often, and her singing might thenmarvellously beautify the old age, so full of suffering and destitute ofpleasure, that awaited him. He realized more and more distinctly thatit was less her rare beauty than the spell of her voice and of her artwhich had constrained him to this late passion.
The idea that she would refuse to accept the fate to which he hadcondemned her was incomprehensible to his sense of power, and thereforedid not occur to his mind.
Yet, especially when he was bearing pain, he did not find it difficultto silence even this wish for the future, for then memories of the lastdeeply clouded hours of their love bond forced themselves upon him.
He saw her swinging like a Bacchante in the dance with the young Saxonduke; the star which had been thrown away appeared before his eyes, andhis irritated soul commanded him never to see her again.
But the suffering of a person whom we have once loved possesses areconciling power, and he who usually forgot no insult, even after thelapse of years, was again disposed to forgive her, and reverted to thewish to continue to enjoy her singing.
When, before their wedding day, he gave his nieces the diadems whichJammtzer had made for them, his resentment concerning the ornamentsold by Barbara again awoke. He could no longer punish her for this"loveless" deed, as he called it, but he made the marquise feel severelyenough his indignation for her abuse of the young girl's inexperience,for, without granting her a farewell audience, he sent her back toBrussels, with letters to Queen Mary expressing his displeasure. Insteadof her skilful maid Alphonsine, a clumsy Swabian girl accompaniedher--the former had married Cassian.
Barbara heard nothing of all these things; her recovery was slow, andevery source of anxiety was kept from her.
She had never been ill before, and to be still at a time when everyinstinct urged her to battle for her life happiness and her love, toprove the power of her beauty and her art, put her slender stock ofpatience to the severest test.
During the first few days she was perfectly conscious, and watched withkeen suspense what was passing around her. It made her happy to findthat Charles sent his own physician to her but, on the other hand, shewas deeply and painfully agitated by his failure to grant the entreatywhich she sent by Dr. Mathys to let her see his face, even if only for amoment.
Gombert and Appenzelder, Massi, the Wollers from the Ark, Dr. Hiltner'swife and daughter, the boy singer Hannibal, and many gentlemen ofthe court-nay, even the Bishop of Arras--came to inquire for her, andBarbara had strictly enjoined Frau Lerch to tell her everything thatconcerned her; for every token of sympathy filled the place, as it were,of the applause to which she was accustomed.
When, on the second day, she heard that old Ursula had been there to askabout her for Wolf, who was now convalescing, she passionately insistedupon seeing her, but, obedient to the physician's orders, Frau Lerchwould not admit her. Then Barbara flew into such a rage that the foolishwoman forgot to take the fever into account, and determined to returnhome. Many motives drew her there, but especially her business; day andnight her mind was haunted by the garments which, just at this time,before the commencement of the Reichstag, other dressmakers werefashioning for her aristocratic customers.
A certain feeling of shame had restrained her from leaving Barbaradirectly after the beginning of her illness. Besides, delay had beenadvisable, because the appearance of the Emperor's physician proved thatthe monarch's love was not wholly dead. But Barbara's outbreak now cameat an opportune time, for yesterday, by the leech's suggestion, and withthe express approval of the Emperor, one of the Dominican nuns, SisterHyacinthe, had come from the Convent of the Holy Cross and, with quietdignity, assumed her office of nurse beside her charge's sick-bed. Thisforced Fran Lerch into a position which did not suit her, and as, soonafter Barbara's outbreak, Dr. Mathys sternly ordered her to adopt amore qui
et and modest bearing, she declared that she would not bear suchinsult and abuse, hastily packed her property, and returned to the Griebwith a much larger amount of luggage than she had brought with her.
Sister Hyacinthe now ruled alone in the sickroom, and the calm faceof the nun, whose cap concealed hair already turning gray, exerted assoothing an influence upon the patient as her low, pleasant voice. Shewas the daughter of a knightly race, and had taken the veil from a deepinward vocation, as one of the elect who, in following Christ, forgetthemselves, in order to dedicate to her suffering neighbours all herstrength and the great love which filled her heart. They were her world,and her sole pleasure was to satisfy the compassionate impulse in herown breast by severe toil, by tender solicitude, by night watching, andby exertions often continued to actual suffering. Death, into whose faceshe had looked beside so many sickbeds, was to her a kind friend whoheld the key of the eternal home where the Divine Bridegroom awaitedher.
The events occurring in the world, whether peace reigned or the nationswere at war with one another, affected her only so far as they wereconnected with her patient. Her thoughts and acts, all her love andsolicitude, referred solely to the invalid in her care.
The departure of Frau Lerch was a relief to her mind, and it seemed anenigma that Barbara, whose beauty increased her interest, and whomthe physician had extolled as a famous singer, could have given herconfidence, in her days of health, to this woman.
Sister Hyacinthe's appearance beside her couch had at first perplexedBarbara, because she had not asked for her; but the mere circumstancethat her lover had sent her rendered it easy to treat the nun kindly,and the tireless, experienced, and invariably cheerful nurse soon becameindispensable.
On the whole, both the leech and Sister Hyacinthe could call Barbara adocile patient, and she often subjected herself to a restraint irksometo her vivacious temperament, because she felt how much gratitude sheowed to both.
Not until the fever reached its height did her turbulent nature assertits full power, and the experienced disciple of the art of healing hadseen few invalids rave more wildly.
The delusions that tortured her were by no means varied, for allrevolved about the person of her imperial lover and her art. But underthe most careful nursing her strong constitution resisted even the mostviolent attacks of the fever, and when June was drawing toward an endall danger seemed over.
Dr. Mathys had already permitted her to sit out of doors, and informedthe Emperor that there was no further occasion for fear.
The monarch expressed his gratification but, instead of asking moreparticularly about the progress of her convalescence, he hastily turnedthe conversation to his own health.
Dr. Mathys regretted this for the sake of the beautiful neglectedcreature, who had won his sympathy, but it did not surprise him, forduty after duty now filled every hour of Charles's day. Besides, on theday after to-morrow, the fourth of July, the marriages of his twonieces were to take place, and he himself was to accompany the bridalprocession and attend the wedding. On the fifth the Reichstag would beopened, and the Duke of Alba, with several experienced colonels, hadarrived as harbingers of the approaching war. Where this stern andtried general appeared, thoughts of war began to stir, and already menequipped with helmets and armour began to be seen in unusual numbers inall the streets and squares of Ratisbon.
The Emperor's room, too, had an altered aspect, for, instead of a fewletters and despatches, his writing-table was now covered not only withmaps and plans, but lists and tables referring to the condition of hisarmy.
What could the health of a half-convalescent girl now be to the man towhom even his most trusted friend would no longer have dared to mentionher as his favourite?
Of course, Dr. Mathys told Barbara nothing about the Emperor's lack ofinterest, for any strong mental excitement might still be injurious toher. Besides, he was a reserved man, who said little more to Barbarathan was necessary. Toward the Emperor Charles he imposed a certainrestraint upon himself; but the royal adept in reading human nature knewthat in him he possessed one of the most loyal servants, and gave himhis entire confidence. For his sake alone this wealthy scholar devotedhimself to the laborious profession which so often kept him from libraryand laboratory. Although his smooth, brown hair had turned graylong ago, he had never married, for he had decided in the Emperor'sfavour--this Charles knew also--whenever the choice presented itself tofollow his royal patient during his journeys and expeditions or to findrest and comfort in a home of his own.
The calm, kindly manner of this far-famed physician very soon gained agreat influence over the vivacious Barbara. Since she had felt sure ofhis good will, she had willingly obeyed him. Though he was often obligedto shake his finger at her and tell her how much she herself couldcontribute toward regaining freedom of motion and the use of her voice,she really did nothing which he could seriously censure, and thus herrecovery progressed in the most favourable manner until the wedding daywas close at hand.
She had already been permitted to receive visits from old acquaintancesand, without saying much herself, listen to the news they brought. Thelittle Maltese, Hannibal, had also appeared again, and the lively boytold her many things which Gombert and Appenzelder had not mentioned.
The morning of the day before the princesses' marriage he informed her,among other things, that the bridal procession would march the followingmorning. It was to start from the cathedral square and go to Prebrunn,where it would turn back and disband in front of the Town Hall. All thedistinguished noblemen and ladies who had come to Ratisbon to attend thewedding and the Reichstag would show themselves to the populace on thisoccasion, and it was even said that the Emperor intended to lead thetrain with his royal brother. It must pass by the garden; but the roadcould scarcely be seen from the little castle--the lindens, beeches, andelms were too tall and their foliage was too thick to permit it.
This news destroyed Barbara's composure. Though she had slept wellduring the past few nights, on this one slumber deserted her. She couldnot help thinking constantly of the possibility that the Emperor mightbe present in the procession, and to see her lover again was the goal ofher longing.
Even in the morning, while the physician permitted her to remain in theopen air because the clay was hot and still, the bridal procession wascontinually in her thoughts. Yet she did not utter a word in allusion toit.
At the noon meal she ate so little that Sister Hyacinthe noticed it, andanxiously asked if she felt worse; but Barbara reassured her and, aftera short rest in the house, she asked to be taken out again under thelindens where she had reclined in an armchair that morning.
Scarcely had she seated herself when all the bells in the city beganto ring, and the heavy ordnance and howitzers shook the air with theirthunder.
What a festal alarum!
How vividly it reminded her of the brilliant exhibitions and festivitieswhich she had formerly attended!
She listened breathlessly to the sounds from the city, and now a distantblare of trumpets drowned the dull roar of the ordnance and the sharprattle of the culverins.
The confused blending of many human voices reached her from beyond thegarden wall.
The road must be full of people. Now single shrill trumpet notes echoedfrom afar amid the trombones and the dull roll of the drums, the noiseincreasing every moment. From a large, old beech tree close to thewall, into which a dozen lads had climbed, she already saw handkerchiefswaving and heard the shouts of clear, boyish voices.
Sister Hyacinthe had just gone into the house, and like an illuminationthe thought darted through Barbara's mind that the road could be seenfrom the little summer house which the reverend owner of the castlecalled his "frigidarium," because it was cool even during the warmestsummer day.
It was a small, towerlike building close to the garden wall, whosesingle inner room was designed to imitate a rock cave. The walls werecovered with tufa and stalagmites, shells, mountain crystals, andcorals, and from the lofty ceiling hung large stalact
ites. From one ofthe walls a fountain plashed into a large shell garlanded with greenaquatic plants and tenanted by several goldfish and frogs.
The single open window resembled a cleft in the rocks, and looked outupon the road. Blocks of stone, flung one upon another without regard toorder, formed steps from which to look out of doors.
These stairs afforded a view of the road to the city. Barbara had oftenused them when watching in the dusk of evening for her lover's litteror, at a still later hour, for the torch-bearers who preceded it.
She could already walk firmly enough to mount the few rough steps whichled to the opening in the rocks and, obeying the tameless yearning ofher heart, she rose from the arm-chair and walked as rapidly as herfeeble strength permitted toward the frigidarium.
It was more difficult to traverse the path, illumined by the hot Julysun, than she had expected; but the pealing of the bells and the roarof the cannon continued, and now it was drowned by the fanfare of thetrumpets and the shouts of the people.
All this thundering, ringing, clashing, chiming, and cheering wasa greeting to him for the sight of whom her whole being so ardentlylonged; and when, halfway down the path, she felt the need of resting ona bench under a weeping ash, she did not obey it, but forced herself tototter on.
Drops of perspiration covered her forehead when she entered thefrigidarium, but there the most delicious coolness greeted her. Here,too, however, she could allow herself no rest, for the boys in the topof the beech, and some neighbouring trees, were already shouting theirclear voices hoarse and waving caps and branches.
With trembling knees she forced herself to climb one after another ofthe blocks that formed the staircase. When a slight faintness attackedher, a stalactite afforded her support, and it passed as quickly as itcame. Now she had reached her goal. The rock on which she stood gave herfeet sufficient support, as it had done many times before.
Barbara needed a few minutes in this wonderfully cool atmosphere torecover complete self-control. Only the wild pulsation of her heartstill caused a painful feeling; but if she was permitted to see theobject of her love once more, the world might go to ruin and she withit.
Now she gazed from the lofty window over the open country.
She had come just at the right time. Imperial halberdiers and horseguards, galloping up and down, kept the centre of the road free. On theopposite side of the highway which she overlooked was a dense, countlessmultitude of citizens, peasants, soldiers, monks, women, and children,who with difficulty resisted the pressure of those who stood behindthem, shoulder to shoulder, head to head. Barbara from her lofty stationsaw hats, barets, caps, helmets, women's caps and coifs, fair andred hair on uncovered heads and, in the centre of many, the priestlytonsure.
Then a column of dust advanced along the road from which the fanfareresounded like the scream of the hawk from the gray fog. A few minuteslater, the cloud vanished; but the shouts of the multitude increasedto loud cheers when the heralds who rode at the head of the processionappeared and raised their long, glittering trumpets to their lips.Behind them, on spirited stallions, rode the wedding marshals, membersof royal families, in superb costumes with bouquets of flowers on theirshoulders.
Now the tumult died away for a few minutes, and Barbara felt as thoughher heart stood still, for the two stately men on splendid chargerswho now, after a considerable interval, followed them, were the royalbrothers, the Emperor Charles and King Ferdinand.
The man for whom Barbara's soul longed, as well as her eyes, rode on theside toward her.
He was still half concealed by dust, but it could be no one else, fornow the outburst of enthusiasm, joy, and reverence from the populacereached its climax. It seemed as though the very trees by the waysidejoined in the limitless jubilation. The greatness of the sovereign, thegeneral, and the happy head of the family, made the Protestants aroundhim forget with what perils this monarch threatened their faith andthereby themselves; and he, too, the defender and loyal son of theChurch, appeared to thrust aside the thought that the people who greetedhim with such impetuous delight, and shared the two-fold festival of hisfamily with such warm devotion, were heretics who deserved punishment.At least he saluted with gracious friendliness the throng that linedboth sides of the road, and as he passed by the garden of the littlecastle he even smiled, and glanced toward the building as though apleasant memory had been awakened in his mind. At this moment Barbaragazed into the Emperor's face.
Those were the features which had worn so tender an expression when, forthe first time, he had uttered the never-to-be-forgotten "Because I longfor love," and her yearning heart throbbed no less quickly now than onthat night. The wrong and suffering which he had inflicted upon her wereforgotten. She remembered nothing save that she loved him, that he wasthe greatest and, to her, the dearest of all men.
It was perfectly impossible for him to see her, but she did not thinkof that; and when he looked toward her with such joyous emotion, and thecheers of the populace, like a blazing fire which a gust of wind fansstill higher, outstripped, as it were, themselves, she could not havehelped joining in the huzzas and shouts and acclamations around herthough she had been punished with imprisonment and death.
And clinging more firmly to the stalactite, Barbara rose on tiptoe andmingled her voice with the joyous cheers of the multitude.
In the act her breath failed, and she felt a sharp pain in her chest,but she heeded the suffering as little as she did the weakness of herlimbs. The physical part of her being seemed asleep or dead. Nothing wasawake or living except her soul. Nothing stirred within her breast savethe rapture of seeing him again, the indescribable pleasure of showingthat she loved him.
Already she could no longer see his face, already the dust had concealedhim and his charger from her eyes, yet still, filled with peerlesshappiness, she shouted "Charles!" and again and again "Charles!" Itseemed to her as though the air or some good spirit insist bear the cryto him and assure him of her ardent, inextinguishable love.
The charming royal brides, radiant in their jewels, their betrothedhusbands, and the lords and ladies of their magnificent train passedBarbara like shadows. The procession of German, Spanish, Hungarian,Bohemian, and Italian dignitaries swam in a confused medley before hereyes. The glittering armour of the princes, counts, and barons, the gemson the heads, the robes, and the horses' trappings of the ladies and theMagyar magnates flashed brightly before her, the red hats and robes ofthe cardinals gleamed out, but usually everything that her eyes beheldmingled in a single motley, shining, moving, many-limbed body.
The end of the procession was now approaching, and physical weaknesssuddenly asserted itself most painfully.
Barbara felt only too plainly that it was time to leave her post ofobservation; her feet would scarcely carry her and, besides, she wasfreezing.
She had entered the damp cave chamber in a thin summer gown, and it nowseemed to be continually growing colder and colder.
Climbing down the high steps taxed her like a difficult, almostimpossible task, and perhaps she might not have succeeded inaccomplishing it unaided; but she had scarcely commenced the descentwhen she heard her name called, and soon after Sister Hyacinthe enteredthe frigidarium and, amid no lack of kindly reproaches, helped her toreach the open air.
When even in the warm sunshine the chill did not pass away, Barbara sawthat the sister was right, yet she was far from feeling repentant.
During the night a violent attack of fever seized her, and her inflamedthroat was extremely painful.
When Dr. Mathys came to her bedside he already knew from the nun thecause of this unfortunate relapse, and he understood only too well whathad induced Barbara to commit the grave imprudence. Reproof and warningswere useless here; the only thing he could do was to act, and renew theconflict with the scarcely subdued illness. Thanks to his indefatigablezeal, to the girl's strong constitution, and to the watchful care of thenurse, he won the victory a second time. Yet he could not rejoice in acomplete triumph, for the severe inf
lammation of the bronchial tubes hadcaused a hoarseness which would yield to none of his remedies. It mightlast a long time, and the thought that the purity of his patient's voicewas perhaps forever destroyed occasioned sincere regret.
True, he opposed the girl when she expressed this fear; but as July drewto its close, and her voice still remained husky, he scarcely hoped tobe able to restore the old melody. In other respects he might considerBarbara cured, and intrust her entire convalescence to her own patienceand caution.
Perhaps the ardent desire to regain the divine gift of song wouldprotect her from perilous ventures like this last one, and even morecertainly the hope which she had confided to the nun and then tohim also. The physician noticed, with warm sympathy, how deeply thismysterious expectation had influenced her excitable nature, ever torn byvarying emotions, and the excellent man was ready to aid her as a friendand intercessor.
Unfortunately, just at this time the pressure of business allowed theEmperor little leisure to listen to the voice of the heart.
The day before yesterday the Elector John Frederick of Saxony and theLandgrave Philip of Hesse had been banned, and with this the war began.
Already twelve troops of Spaniards who had served in Hungary, and otherbands of soldiers had entered Ratisbon; cannon came up the Danube fromAustria, and the city, had gained a warlike aspect. To disturb theEmperor in his work as a general at such a time, with a matter whichmust agitate him so deeply, was hazardous, and few would have been boldenough to bring it before the overburdened monarch; but the leech'sinterest in Barbara was so warm and sincere that he allowed himselfto be persuaded to act the mediator between her and the man who hadinterfered so deeply in the destiny of her life. For the first time hesaw her weep, and her winning manner seemed to him equally touching,whether she yielded to anxious distress of mind or to joyous hopes.
His intercession in her behalf would permit no delay, for the Emperor'sdeparture to join the troops was close at hand.
Firmly resolved to plead the cause of the unfortunate girl, whosepreservation, he might say, was his work, yet with slight hope ofsuccess, he crossed the threshold of the imperial apartments.
When the physician informed the sovereign that Barbara might beconsidered saved for the second time, the latter expressed his pleasureby a warm "We are indebted to you for it again "; but when Mathys askedif he did not intend to hasten Barbara's recovery by paying her avisit, though only for a few moments, the Emperor looked into thegrave countenance of the physician, in whom he noticed an embarrassmentusually foreign to him, and said firmly, "Unfortunately, my dear Mathys,I must deny myself this pleasure."
The other bowed with a sorrowful face, for Barbara's dearest wish hadbeen refused. But the Emperor saw what was passing in the mind ofthe man whom he esteemed, and in a lighter tone added: "So even yourinvulnerable dragon hide was not proof against the shafts--you know! IfI see aright, something else lies near your heart. My refusal--that iseasily seen--annoys you; but, much as I value your good opinion, Mathys,it is firm. The more difficult I found it to regain my peace of mind,the more foolish it would be to expose it to fresh peril. Now, if ever,I must shun every source of agitation. Think! With the banning, thegeneral's work begins. How you look at me! Well, yes! You, too, know howeasy it is for the man who has most to do to spare a leisure hourwhich the person without occupation does not find, and neither of us isaccustomed to deceive the other. Besides, it would be of little avail.So, to cut the matter short, I am unwilling to see Barbara again andawaken false hopes in her mind! But even these plain words do not seemto satisfy you."
"By your Majesty's permission," replied the leech, "deeply as I regretit for the invalid's sake, I believe, on the contrary, that you arechoosing the right course. But I have only discharged the first part ofmy patient's commission. Though I have no pleasant tidings to take backto her, I am still permitted to tell her the truth. But your Majesty,by avoiding an interview with the poor girl, will spare yourself a sad,nay, perhaps a painful hour."
"Did the disease so cruelly mar this masterpiece of the Creator?" askedthe Emperor. "With so violent a fever it was only too natural," repliedthe physician. "Time and what our feeble skill can do will improveher condition, I hope, but--and this causes the poor girl the keenestsuffering--the unfortunate inflammation of the bronchial tubes mostseriously injures the tone of her clear voice."
"Ah!" exclaimed the startled Emperor with sincere compassion. "Doeverything in your power, Mathys, to purify this troubled spring ofmelody. I will repay you with my warmest gratitude, for, though theRomans said that Cupid conquered through the eyes, yet Barbara's singingexerted a far more powerful influence over my heart than even herwonderful golden hair. Restore the melting tones of her voice and,though the bond of love which rendered this month of May so exquisitelybeautiful to us must remain severed, I will not fail to remember it withall graciousness."
"That, your Majesty, can scarcely be avoided," the physician hereremarked with an embarrassment which was new in him to Charles, "for thecontinuance of the memory of the spring days which your Majesty recallswith such vivid pleasure seems to be assured. Yet, if it pleases Heaven,as I have learned to-day for the first time, to call a living being intoexistence for this purpose----"
"If I understand you correctly," cried the Emperor, starting up, "I amto believe in hopes----"
"In hopes," interrupted the physician with complete firmness, "whichmust not alarm your Majesty, but render you happy. This new branch ofthe illustrious trunk of your royal race I, who am only 30 a plain man,hail with proud joy, and half the world, I know, will do so with me."
Charles, with brows contracted in a gloomy frown, gazed for a long timeinto vacancy.
The leech perceived how mighty a conflict between contradictory emotionswould be waged in his breast, and silently gave him time to collect histhoughts.
At last, rising from his arm-chair, the Emperor struck the table withhis open hand, and said: "Whether the Lord our God awoke this new lifefor our punishment or our pleasure the future will teach. What more mustbe done in this matter? You know my custom in regard to such importantaffairs. They are slept upon and maturely considered. Only there is onepoint," and as he uttered the words his voice assumed an imperious tone,"which is already irrevocably decided. The world must not suspect whathope offers itself to me and another. Tell her, Mathys, we wish herhappiness; but if her maternal heart expects that I will do her childthe honour of calling it mine, I must require her to keep silence, andintrust the newborn infant's destiny, from the first hour of its birth,to my charge."
Here he hesitated, and, after looking the physician in the face,went on: "You again think that harsh, Mathys--I see it in yourexpression--but, as my friend, you yourself can scarcely desire theworld to see the Emperor Charles performing the same task with a BarbaraBlomberg. She is free to choose. Either I will rear the child, whetherit is a boy or a girl, as my own, as I did my daughter, Duchess Margaretof Parma, or she will refuse to give me the child from its birth and Imust deny it recognition. I have already shared far too much withthat tempting creature; I can not permit even this new dispensation torestore my severed relationship with the singer. If Barbara's maternallove is unselfish, the choice can not be difficult for her. That thecharge of providing for this new life will fall upon me is a matter ofcourse. Tell her this, Mathys, and if in future--But no. We will confidethis matter to Quijada."
As the door closed behind the physician, Charles stood motionless. Deepearnestness furrowed his brow, but suddenly an expression of triumphantjoy flashed over his face, and then yielded to a look of gratefulsatisfaction. Soon, however, his lofty brow clouded again, and his lowerlip protruded. Some idea which excited his indignation must have enteredhis mind. He had just been thinking with the warmest joy of the giftof Fate of which the physician had told him, but now the reasons whichforbade his offering it a sincere welcome crowded upon the thinker.
If Heaven bestowed a son upon him, would not only the Church, but alsothe law, wh
ich he knew so well, refuse to recognise his rights? A childwhose mother had offended him, whose grandfather was a ridiculous,impoverished old soldier, whose cousins----
Yet for what did he possess the highest power on earth if he would notuse it to place his own child, in spite of every obstacle, at the heightof earthly grandeur?
What need he care for the opinion of the world? And yet, yet----
Then there was a great bustle below. The loud tramping of horses' hoofswas heard. A troop of Lombardy cavalry in full armour appeared on theHaidplatz--fresh re-enforcements for the war just commencing. The erectfigure of the Duke of Alba, a man of middle height, followed by severalcolonels, trotted toward it. The standard-bearer of the Lombards loweredthe banner with the picture of the Madonna before the duke, and theEmperor involuntarily glanced back into the room at the lovely Madonnaand Child by the master hand of Giovanni Bellini which his royal sisterhad hung above his writing table.
How grave and lovely, yet how full of majesty, the Christ-child looked,how touching a grace surrounded the band of angels playing on violinsabove the purest of mothers!
Then the necessity of appealing to her in prayer seized upon him,and with fervent warmth he besought her to surround with her graciousprotection the young life which owed its existence to him.
He did not think of the child's mother. Was he still angry with her?
Did she seem to him unworthy of being commended to the protection of theQueen of Heaven? Barbara was now no more to him than a cracked bell,and the child which she expected to give him, no matter to what high'honours he raised it, would bear a stain that nothing could efface, andthis stain would be called "his mother."
No deviation from the resolve which he had expressed to the physicianwas possible. The child could not be permitted to grow up amid Barbara'ssurroundings. To prevent this she must submit to part from her son orher daughter, and to take the veil. In the convent she could rememberthe happiness which had once raised her to its loftiest height. Shecould and must atone for her sin and his by prayers and pious exercises.To return to the low estate whence he had raised her must appeardisgraceful to herself. How could one who had once dined at the tableof the gods still relish the fare of mortals? Even now it seemedinconceivable to him that she could oppose his will. Yet if she did,he would withdraw his aid. He no longer loved her. In this hour she waslittle more to him than the modest casket to which was confided a jewelof inestimable value, an object of anxiety and care. The determinationwhich he had confided to his physician was as immovable as everythingwhich he had maturely considered. Don Luis Quijada should provide forits execution.