es began this imposed a wearisome restraint.

Once only was her solitude in the midst of this great company pleasantly
interrupted, for the Bishop of Arras, without troubling himself about the
separation of the sexes, had sought her out and whispered that he had
something to ask of her, whose details they would discuss later. On the
evening of the day after to-morrow his Majesty's most distinguished
guests, with their ladies, were to assemble at his house. If she desired
to place him under the deepest obligations, she would join them there and
adorn the festival with her singing. Barbara asked in a low tone whether
the Emperor would also be present, and the statesman, smiling, answered
that court etiquette prohibited such things. Yet it was not impossible
that, as a special favour, his Majesty might listen for a short time in
the festal hall, only he feared that the gout might interpose--the evil
guest was already giving slight warnings of its approach.

Then, without waiting for a reply, the young minister went back to his
royal master; but his invitation exerted a disturbing influence upon
Barbara. She would have been more than glad to accept, for the
entertainments of the Bishop of Arras were unequalled in varied
attractions, magnificence, and gaiety, and what a satisfaction to her
ambition it would be to sing before such an audience, dine at the same
table with such ladies and gentlemen! She knew also how heavily this
man's favour would weigh in the scales with the Emperor, yet to appear at
the banquet without her lover's knowledge was utterly impossible, and
just now she felt reluctant to ask his permission. What heavy chains
loaded the favoured woman who possessed the love of this greatest of
sovereigns!

However, reflections concerning Granvelle's invitation passed away the
time until the lighting of the Lindenplatz was completed. Then the shrill
blare of trumpets again rent the air, the city pipers in the towers
struck up a gay march, and the entertainment began.

The gods of Olympus, led by Fame and Fortune, offered their homage to the
Emperor. A youth from the school of poets, attired as the goddess of
Fame, bewailed in well-rhymed verses that for a long time no one had
given her so much to do as the Emperor Charles. His comrade, who, bearing
a cornucopia in his arms, represented Fortune, assured her companion, in
still more bombastic verse, that she should certainly expect far more
from her, the goddess of