earn all sorts of details, alleging that she
could scarcely speak from weariness.

The old gentleman went to rest grumbling over the weakness of women in
these days, to which even his sturdy lass now succumbed; but Barbara
threw herself on her knees beside the bed in her room, buried her face in
the pillows, and sobbed aloud. Another feeling, however, soon silenced
her desire to weep. Her lover's image and the memory of the happy moments
which she had just experienced returned to her mind. Besides, she must
hasten to arrange her hair again, and--this time with her own
hands--change her clothing.

While she was loosening her golden tresses and gazing into the mirror,
her eyes again sparkled with joy. The greatest, the loftiest of mortals
loved her. She belonged to him, body and soul, and she had been permitted
to call him "her own."

At this thought she drew herself up still more haughtily in proud
self-consciousness, but, as her glance fell upon the image of the Virgin
above the priedieu, she again bowed her head.

Doubtless she desired to pray, but she could not.

She need confess nothing to the august Queen of Heaven. She knew that she
had neither sought nor desired what now burdened her heart so heavily,
and yet rendered her so infinitely happy. She had obeyed the Emperor's
summons in order to win approval and applause for her art, and to afford
the monarch a little pleasure and cheer, and, instead, the love of the
greatest of all men had flamed ardently from the earth, she had left her
whole heart with him, and given herself and all that was in her into his
power. Now he summoned her--the Holy Virgin knew this, too--and she must
obey, though the pure face yonder looked so grave and threatening.

And for what boon could she beseech the Queen of Heaven?

What more had the woman, to whom the Emperor's heart belonged, to desire?

The calmness of her soul was at an end, and not for all the kingdoms
Charles possessed would she have exchanged the tumult and turmoil in her
breast for the peace which she had enjoyed yesterday.

Obeying a defiant impulse, she turned from the benign face, and her hands
fairly flew as, still more violently agitated, she completed the changes
in her dress.

In unfastening the star, her lover's gift, she saw upon the gold at the
back Charles's motto, "Plus ultra!"

Barbara had known it before, but had not thought of it for a long time,
and a slight tremor ran through her frame as she