time before his servant Cassian had asked permission to marry the
marquise's French maid, and Alphonsine, who was neither young nor pretty,
was inclined to all sorts of intrigues. She supplied slow, pious
Cassian's deficiencies in the best possible manner. A chance word from
the distinguished prelate had sufficed to make it their duty to watch
Barbara and her visitors.

In Alphonsine's mistress, the Marquise de Leria, the almoner also
possessed a willing tale-bearer. She had avoided him since his refusal
to commend her ruined son to the favour of his imperial penitent. Now,
unasked, she had again approached him, and her explanation first gave
many an apparently unimportant communication from the servants its real
value.

The atmosphere of the court was her vital air. Even when she had
voluntarily offered to take Barbara under her charge, in a secluded house
in the suburb, she had been aware how greatly she would miss the presence
of royalty. Yet she would have endured far more difficult things, for a
thousand signs betrayed that this time his Majesty's heart had not been
merely superficially touched, and Barbara's traits of character made it
appear probable that, like many a beauty at the court of Francis I of
France, she might obtain an influence over the Emperor. If this
occurred, the marquise had found the most powerful tool for the
deliverance of her son.

This hope filled the old noblewoman's heart and brain. It was her last,
for the Emperor was the only person who could save the worthless idol of
her soul from ruin, and yet, when she had grovelled at his knees in her
despair, she received an angry repulse and the threat of being instantly
deprived of her position if she ever again attempted to speak to him