ion exerted an unexpected
influence upon him, for he shrank back as though the curtain which
concealed a rare marvel had been lifted and, drawing a long breath, gazed
into her beautiful, joyous face.

It seemed as if the luminous reflection of the proud, noble, and pure
delight which shone upon him from her eyes had beamed in little
Geronimo's a few weeks before when he rushed up to him to show his
hunting spoils, a fitchet and several birds which he had killed with his
pretty little cross-bow, a gift from Dona Magdalena. And Barbara's wavy
golden hair, the little dimple in her cheek! Geronimo must be her child;
this wonderful resemblance could not deceive.

"Barbara," he cried, pressing his hand to his brow with deep emotion,
"Geronimo is--gracious Virgin!--the handsome, proud, deserted boy may
be----"

But an imperious gesture from the young wife closed his lips; Frau
Lamperi had just led her two boys, beautifully dressed as they always
were when any distinguished visitor called upon their mother, into the
room. The expression of radiant happiness which had just illumined her
features vanished at the sight of the little ones, and she commanded the
children to be taken away at once.

She looked so stern and resolute that her faithful maid lacked courage to
make any sign of recognising the knight, whom she had known while she was
in the regent's service.

When the door had closed behind the group, Barbara again turned to her
friend, and in a low tone asked, "And suppose that you saw aright, and
Geronimo were really my child?"

"Then--then," Wolf faltered in bewilderment, "then Don Luis would--But
surely it can not be! Then, after all, Quijada would be--"

Here a low laugh from Barbara broke the silence, and with dilated eyes he
learned who Geronimo's parents were.

Then the knight listened breathlessly to the young mother's account of
the robbery of her child, and how, in spite of her own boys and the vow
which she had made the Dubois couple not to follow the Emperor's son, she
lived only in and through him.

"The Emperor Charles!" cried Wolf, as if he now understood for the first
time what he might so easily have guessed if the fair-haired boy had not
grown up amid such extremely plain surroundings. The belief that Geronimo
owed his life to Quijada had been inspired by Massi himself.

But while the knight was striving to accustom himself to this wholly
novel circle of ideas, Barbara, with passionate impetuo