s views and wishes, and Pedro de Soto had also been
young and knew only too well what power so beautiful a woman, with such
bewitching gifts, could exert upon the man whose heart cherishes her.

So, immediately after Barbara's entrance into Prebrunn, the confessor
adopted his measures. Although the conversation to which he subjected her
had resulted in her favour, he had deemed it beneficial to place a priest
who was devoted to him among the ecclesiastics in the little castle.

To surround her with spies chosen from the lay class was repugnant to his
lofty nature. Besides, they would have been superfluous; for a short time
before his servant Cassian had asked permission to marry the marquise's
French maid, and Alphonsine, who was neither young nor pretty, was
inclined to all sorts of intrigues. She supplied slow, pious Cassian's
deficiencies in the best possible manner. A chance word from the
distinguished prelate had sufficed to make it their duty to watch Barbara
and her visitors.

In Alphonsine's mistress, the Marquise de Leria, the almoner also
possessed a willing tale-bearer. She had avoided him since his refusal to
commend her ruined son to the favour of his imperial penitent. Now,
unasked, she had again approached him, and her explanation first gave
many an apparently unimportant communication from the servants its real
value.

The atmosphere of the court was her vital air. Even when she had
voluntarily offered to take Barbara under her charge, in a secluded house
in the suburb, she had been aware how greatly she would miss the presence
of royalty. Yet she would have endured far more difficult things, for a
thousand signs betrayed that this time his Majesty's heart had not been
merely superficially touched, and Barbara's traits of character made it
appear probable that, like many a beauty at the court of Francis I of
France, she might obtain an influence over the Emperor. If this occurred,
the marquise had found the most powerful tool for the deliverance of her
son.

This hope filled the old noblewoman's heart and brain. It was her last,
for the Emperor was the only person who could save the worthless idol of
her soul from ruin, and yet, when she had grovelled at his knees in her
despair, she received an angry repulse and the threat of being instantly
deprived of her position if she ever again attempted to speak to him
about this vexatious matter. She knew only too well that Charles would
keep his word, and