still in his heart he sympathized with their
resistance to the encroachments of the Emperor. He refused to recognize
Victor, the anti-Pope, whose slavish nature he despised, and whom he
openly treated with contempt as occupying a position to which he was
not legally entitled. It needed all Frederic's diplomacy to secure the
co-operation of the Duke in the struggle which he was about to
inaugurate, for Barbarossa had long felt the necessity of detaching him
from the support of Alexander III., and it seemed as though the crafty
Chancellor had discovered a sure means of success.

Whilst the minister was plotting his dishonorable combinations, the
Duke, all unconscious of the visit awaiting him, was seated in the
bosom of his family, Henry was a tall, powerfully built man, with dark
hair and eyes, a heavy beard, and a frank open expression upon his
sun-burned features. His remarkable strength had gained him the surname
of the Lion. He was impatient of all repose, and chafed bitterly at the
inaction to which the Emperor had condemned him.

Near him sat the Duchess, busied with her embroidery. Not without
personal and intellectual attractions, she was sincerely attached to
her husband, but the affection which he had once felt for the lovely
Clemence had long since made way for other sentiments. Honoring her
virtues, he could not but feel deeply mortified that he was without an
heir, and to his intimate associates he had more than once hinted at
the possibility of a divorce.

"Look, Clemence! what a fine boy our little Hildegarde would make,"
said the Duke, playing with the silken curls of the child who had
glided between his knees. "He would be old enough now to play with
arms, or sharpen arrows, and in a few years could fight by my side!"

"And perhaps die there, husband!"

"Our five daughters run no risk of dying a hero's death!" he replied
bitterly. "Ah! I would give the half of my left hand if one of those
girls were a boy!"

"Henry, do not cherish such gloomy thoughts. You make me tremble for
our future!"

"Never mind! a hand for a son!" continued Henry, with growing rage. "If
my death-bed could be surrounded by five sons, I should feel that my
toils had not been altogether unavailing. Ah! those five young lions
could complete the work which their father had begun, and their
combined efforts might defy the Emperor. But it is a painful, a
bitterly painful thought, that I shall die and leave to helpless girls
the