st him his place; but how often she had entreated him to
think of her if any news came from Valladolid of a boy named Geronimo or
John, and how much kindness she had showed him when he was only a poor
choir boy!

At last, at last the most ardent desire of the mother's heart was to be
fulfilled. She saw in the codicil the bridge which would lead her son to
splendour and magnificence, and up to the last hour of his life the
Emperor Charles had also remembered her.

She felt not only relieved of a burden, but as if borne on wings. Which
of these two pieces of news rendered her the happier, she could not have
determined. Yet she did not once think of the addition to her income.
What was that in comparison to the certainty that to the last Charles did
not forget her!

It made her husband happy to see her sunny cheerfulness. Never had she
played and romped with the children in such almost extravagant mirth.
Nay, more! For the first time the officer's modest house echoed with the
singing of its mistress.

Though her voice was no longer so free from sharpness and harshness as in
the old days, it by no means jarred upon the ear; nay, every tone
revealed its admirable training. She had broken the long silence with
Josquin's motet, "Quia amore langueo," and in her quiet chamber dedicated
it, as it were, to the man to whom this cry of longing had been so dear.
Then, in memory of and gratitude to him, other religious songs which he
had liked to hear echoed from her lips.

The little German ballads which she afterward sang, to the delight of her
boys, deeply moved her husband's heart, and she herself found that it was
no insult to art when, with the voice that she now possessed, she again
devoted herself to the pleasure of singing.

If the codicil brought her son what she desired, she could once more, if
her voice lost the sharpness which still clung to it, serve her beloved
art as a not wholly unworthy priestess, and then, perchance, she would
again possess the right, so long relinquished, of calling herself happy.

She would go the next day to Appenzelder, who always greeted her kindly
when they met in the street, and ask his advice.

If only Wolf had been there!

He understood how to manage women's voices also, and could have given her
the best directions how to deal with the new singing exercises.

It seemed as though in these days not one of her wishes remained
unfulfilled, for the very next afternoon, just as she was