The answer was somewhat delayed, for Wolf had won the affection of the
influential valet, and what Master Adrian had learned concerning the
young knight's personal affairs from himself, his own wife in Brussels,
and the violinist Massi, he would have confided to no one on earth except
Quijada, and perhaps not even to him had he not accompanied his inquiry
with the assurance that what he intrusted to him would remain buried in
his soul, and be used only for Wolf's advantage.

This promise loosed the cautious valet's tongue. He knew his man,
and, when Don Luis also desired to learn whether the knight had already
discovered that Barbara was now the Emperor's love, he thought he could
answer in the negative.

What he had heard of Wolf's relation to Barbara was only that the two
had spent their early youth in the same house, that the knight loved
the singer, but that she had rejected his suit.

This avowal appeared to satisfy Quijada, and it really did calm him. He
now believed that Wolf had misjudged him, and, supposing that he was
coming from a meeting with the girl he loved, had drawn his sword against
him. The manner in which he had attempted to rid himself of the rival
seemed criminal enough, yet the nocturnal attack had scarcely concerned
him personally, and he would not condemn the man who was usually so calm
and sensible without having heard him.

If Wolf lived--and he desired it from his heart--this act, which he
appeared to have committed in a fit of blind jealousy, should do him no
injury.

With a warm clasp of the hand, which united these two men more firmly