had constrained him to this late passion.

The idea that she would refuse to accept the fate to which he had
condemned her was incomprehensible to his sense of power, and therefore
did not occur to his mind.

Yet, especially when he was bearing pain, he did not find it difficult
to silence even this wish for the future, for then memories of the last
deeply clouded hours of their love bond forced themselves upon him.

He saw her swinging like a Bacchante in the dance with the young Saxon
duke; the star which had been thrown away appeared before his eyes,
and his irritated soul commanded him never to see her again.

But the suffering of a person whom we have once loved possesses a
reconciling power, and he who usually forgot no insult, even after the
lapse of years, was again disposed to forgive her, and reverted to the
wish to continue to enjoy her singing.

When, before their wedding day, he gave his nieces the diadems which
Jammtzer had made for them, his resentment concerning the ornament sold
by Barbara again awoke. He could no longer punish her for this
"loveless" deed, as he called it, but he made the marquise feel severely
enough his indignation for her abuse of the young girl's inexperience,
for, without granting her a farewell audience, he sent her back to
Brussels, with letters to Queen Mary expressing his displeasure.
Instead of her skilful maid Alphonsine, a clumsy Swabian girl accompanied
her--the former had married Cassian.

Barbara heard nothing of all these things; her recovery was slow, and