Barbara, after a brief pause for reflection, answered, "Love for
another."

The confession pierced him like a dagger thrust, and he passionately
entreated her to tell him the name of the man who had defrauded him of
the happiness to which he possessed an older and better right than any
one else.

He paced the room with long strides as he spoke, gazing around him as if
he imagined that she had his rival concealed somewhere.

In doing so his glance fell upon Herr Schlumperger's bouquet, and he
wildly cried: "He? So, after all, wealth----"

But this was too much for Barbara, and she stopped him with the
exclamation: "Fool that you are! As if You did not know that I am not to
be bought for the paltry florins of a Ratisbon moneybag!"

But the next instant she had repented her outbreak, and in words so
loving and gentle, so tender and considerate that his heart melted and
he would fain have flung himself again at her feet, she explained to him
more particularly why she was obliged to inflict this suffering upon him.

Her heart was no longer free, and precisely because he was worthy of the
whole affection of a loyal heart she would not repay him in worthless
metal for the pure gold of his love. She was no prophetess, yet she knew
full well that some day he would bless this hour. What she concealed
from every one, even her father, as an inviolable secret, she had
confessed to him because he deserved her confidence.