But when he turned from the Haidplatz into Red Cock Street he saw three
fine horses in front of the cantor house. A groom held their bridles.
The large chestnut belonged to the servant. The other two-a big-boned
bay and an unusually wellformed Andalusian gray, with a small head and
long sweeping tail--had ladies' saddles.

The sister of rich old Peter Schlumperger, who was paying court to
Barbara, had dismounted from the former. She wanted to persuade the
young girl, in her brother's name, to join the party to the wood
adjoining Prfifening Abbey.

At first she had opposed the marriage between the man of fifty and
Barbara; but when she saw that her brother's affection had lasted two
years, nay, had increased more and more, and afforded new joy to the
childless widower, she had made herself his ally.

She, too, was widowed and had a large fortune of her own. Her husband,
a member of the Kastenmayr family, had made her his heiress. Blithe
young Barbara, whose voice and beauty she knew how to value, could bring
new life and brightness into the great, far too silent house. The girl's
poverty was no disadvantage; she and her brother had long found it
difficult to know what to do with the vast wealth which, even in these
hard times, was constantly increasing, and the Blomberg family was as
aristocratic as their own.

The widow's effort to persuade the girl to ride had not been in vain, for
Wolf met Frau Kastenmayr on the stairs, and Barbara followed in a plain
dark riding habit, which had been her mother's.