be wholly
impoverished. What the past gave me was too rich and great; what I expect
from the future is too precious for that. It is growing up in distant
Spain and, if Heaven accepted the great sacrifice which I once made for
the boy whom you call Geronimo, if he receives what I besought for him at
that time and on every returning day, then, Wolf, I shall bear the burden
of my woe like a light garland of rose leaves. Nay, more. Charles will
regain his youth sooner than--be it in love or hate--he will ever forget
me. This child guarantees that. It is and will always remain a bridge
between us. He, too, can not forget the son, and if he does----"

"No, Barbara, no," interrupted Wolf, carried away by her passionate
warmth. "The Emperor Charles is constantly thinking of his fair-haired
boy. No one has told me so; but if he seeks in Spain the rest for which
he longs, the thought of Geronimo--I am sure of that--is not the least
powerful cause which draws him thither."

"Do you really think so?" asked Barbara with feverish anxiety.

"Yes," he answered firmly. "This very morning he commanded Don Luis to
take the child from Leganes to Villagarcia and commit the education of
Geronimo to his wife, that he may find him what he expects and desires."

Here he paused, and Barbara inquired uneasily, "And did he say nothing of
Geronimo's mother--of me?"

Wolf shook his head with silent compassion, and then reluctantly
admitted: "I ventured to mention you, but, with one of those looks which
no one can resist--you know them--he ordered me to be silent."

Barbara's cheeks flamed with resentment and shame, but she only said,
smiling bitterly: "Grief is grief, and this new sorrow does not change
the old one. He knows best that I am something more than the poor
officer's wife in the Saint-Gory quarter; but I look down, with just
pride, on all the others who believe me to be nothing else. Now and
always, even long after I am dead, the world will be obliged to recognise
the claim which elevates me far above the throng: I am the mother of an
Emperor's son!"

She had uttered these words with uplifted head; but Wolf gazed in
wondering admiration into the beautiful face, radiant with proud
self-satisfaction.

He wished to leave her with this image before his soul, and therefore
hurriedly extended his hand and said farewell, after promising to fulfil
her entreaty never to come to Brussels without showing by a visit that he
remembered her.