She was a woman, and a capricious one, too, and of what would not such a
nature be capable? Besides, there was something else. Jamnitzer, the
Nuremberg goldsmith, had intrusted a casket of jewels to Adrian to keep
during his absence. They were intended for the diadems which the Emperor
was to give his two nieces for bridal presents. The principal gems among
them were two rubies and a diamond. On the gold of the old-fashioned
setting were a P and an l, the initial letters of his motto "Plus ultra."
He had once had it engraved upon the back of the star which he bestowed
upon Barbara. His keen eye and faithful memory could not be deceived--
Jamnitzer's jewels had been broken from that costly ornament.

From time immemorial it had belonged to the treasures of his family, and
he had already doubted whether it was justifiable to give it away.

Was it conceivable that Barbara had parted with this, his first memento,
sold it, "turned it into money"?--the base words wounded his chivalrous
soul like the blow of a scourge.

She was a passionate, defiant, changeful creature, it is true, yet her
nature was noble, hostile to baseness, and what a wealth of the purest
and deepest feeling echoed in her execution of solemn songs! This
induced him to reject as impossible the suspicion that she could have
stooped to anything so unworthy.

Still, it was not easily banished. A long series of the sorest
disappointments had rendered him distrustful, and he remembered having
asked her several times for the star in vain.

Perhaps it had been stolen from her, and Jamnitzer had obtained it from