permitted her to display her
art to the Emperor, and so carelessly leave him, Wolf, who had built the
bridge to their Majesties, in the lurch, unless she had some special
purpose in view; and what could that be except the resolution to become
the mistress of one of the richest houses in Ratisbon? The words "My
darling," which Frau Kastenmayr had called to Barbara, again rang in his
ears, and when the two ladies and the groom had vanished, he returned in
a very thoughtful mood to the faithful old maid-servant.

Every one else who was in the street or at the window looked after
Barbara, and pointed out to others the beautiful Jungfrau Blomberg and
the proud security with which she governed the spirited gray. She had
become a good rider, first upon her father's horses, and then at the
Wollers in the country, and took risks which many a bold young noble
would not have imitated.

Her aged suitor's gray Andalusian was dearer than the man himself, whom
she regarded merely as a sheet-anchor which could be used if everything
else failed.

The thought of what might happen when, after these days of working for
her bread ended, still more terrible ones followed, had troubled her
again and again the day before. Now she no longer recollected these
miserable things. What a proud feeling it was to ride on horseback
through the sweet May air, in the green woods, as her own mistress, and
bid defiance to the ungrateful sovereign in the Golden Cross!

The frustration of the hope that her singing would make the Emperor
desire to hear her again and again had wounded her to the depths of her
soul and spoiled her night's rest. The annoyance of having vainly put
forth her best efforts to please him had become unendurable after the
fresh refusal which, as it were, set the seal upon her fears, and in the
defiant flight to the forest she seemed to have found the right antidote.
As she approached the monarch's residence, she felt glad and proud that
he, who could force half the world to obey him, could not rule her.

To attract his notice by another performance would have been the most
natural course, but Barbara had placed herself in a singular relation
toward the Emperor Charles. To her he was the man, not the Emperor, and
that he did not express a desire to hear her again seemed like an insult
which the man offered to the woman, the artist, who was ready to obey his
sign.

Her perverse spirit had rebelled against such lack of appreciation