o, farewell, perhaps for many
years.

During the last few days he had again proved his old friendship in the
most loyal manner. Through Quijada he had learned everything which
concerned her and the Emperor Charles, and this had transformed his
former love for Barbara, which was by no means dead, into tender
compassion.

Not to serve the monarch or the husband of his new mistress in
Villagarcia, but merely to lighten her own hard fate, he had not ceased
to represent what consequences it might entail upon her if she should
continue to defy the Emperor's command so obstinately.

He, too, saw in the convent the fitting place for her future life, now
bereft of its best possessions; but although she succeeded in retaining
her composure during his entreaties and warnings, she still most
positively refused to obey the Emperor's order.

Her strong desire to visit Landshut was by no means solely from the
necessity of hearing the particulars about her father, and the wish to
see so brilliant an assemblage of troops from all countries, but
especially the consuming longing to gaze once more into the face of the
lover who was now making her so miserable, yet to whom she owed the
greatest joy of her life.

And more!

She thought it would restore her peace of mind forever if she could
succeed in speaking to him for even one brief moment and telling him what
a transformation his guilt had wrought in her ardent love and her whole
nature.

Wolf's representations and imploring entreaties remained as futile as
those of Sister Hyacinthe and the abbesses of the Clare Sisters and the
Convent of the Holy Cross, who had sought her by the confessor's wish.
None of these pious women, except her nurse, knew the hope she cherished.
They saw in her only the Emperor's discarded love; yet as such it seemed
to them that Barbara was bidden to turn her back upon the world, which
had nothing similar to offer her, in order, as the Saviour's bride, to
seek a new and loftier happiness.

But Barbara's vivacious temperament shrank from their summons as from the
tomb or the dungeon and, with all due reverence, she said so to the
kindly nuns.

She desired no new happiness, nay, she could not imagine that she would
ever again find joy in anything save the heavenly gift which she expected
with increasing fear, and yet glad hope. Yet they wished to deprive her
of this exquisite treasure, this peerless comfort for the soul! But she
had learned how to def