be beneficial, for perhaps he warned her of the seriousness of life and
that there were other things here below than the joy of love, jest, and
laughter. The almoner's doubt of Wolf's orthodoxy had been entirely
dispelled by his confession. Men do not deceive in the presence of
death.

It would have been a genuine boon had Barbara selected him to open her
heart to him in the confessional, for her relation to the wounded man
rendered it difficult for him to trust her entirely.

Wolf's thoughts in his fever constantly dwelt upon her, and he sometimes
accused her of the basest treachery, sometimes coupled her name with
Malfalconnet's, sometimes with Luis Quijada's. The Emperor's, on the
contrary, he had not mentioned.

He must love Barbara with ardent passion, and she, too, still seemed
warmly attached to him, for to see him again she had bravely exposed
herself to serious danger.

Eye and ear witnesses had reported that, notwithstanding his Majesty's
positive orders to avoid her old home, she had entered the house and the
knight's apartments, knelt beside his couch, and even kissed his weak,
burning hand with tender devotion.

But though she still retained a portion of her former affection for Wolf
Hartschwert, she loved the Emperor Charles with passionate fervour. Even
the marquise did not venture to doubt this. Often as she had watched the
meetings of the lovers, she had marvelled at the youthful ardour of the
monarch, the joyous excitement with which Barbara awaited him, and her
sorrowful depression when he left her. During the first week the old