Then Charles went close to her and whispered: "And do you wish to know,
most bewitching woman, how he, in whose presence you confess that you are
glad to remain, looked forward to your coming? As he would greet
happiness, spring. And note that I look you in the face, it seems as
though Easter bells were pealing the resurrection of a love long buried
in this breast. And you, maiden, you will not belie this hope?"

Barbara clung to the back of the chair for support, while from her deeply
agitated soul struggled the exclamation: "This poor heart, my lord,
belongs to you--to you alone! How it mastered me, who can describe? But
here, my lord, now----"

Then the monarch whispered warmly: "You are right. What we have to say
to each other requires a more fitting time and a different place, and we
will find them."

Then he stepped back, drew himself up to his full height, waved his hand
to her with gracious condescension, and in a loud, imperious tone
commanded Appenzelder to begin the Benedictio.

"It rests with the lovely artist yonder," he added, glancing kindly at
Barbara, "whether she will now ennoble with her wonderful voice the
singing of the boy choir. Later she will probably allow us to hear the
closing melody of the 'Ecce tu pulchra es', which, with such good reason,
delighted the Queen of Hungary, and myself no less."

He seated himself at the table as he spoke, and devoted himself to the
dishes offered him so eagerly that it was difficult to believe in the
deep, yearning emotion that ruled him. Only the marquise at his side and
Malfalconnet, who had joined the attendant nobles, perceived that he ate