Frau Traut saw compassionately that she could not remain long quietly in
any place, and that when the noon meal was served she scarcely tasted
food.

As soon as the first blast of the horns rose from the gate of the citadel
she urged departure like an impatient child, and her indulgent companion
yielded, though she knew that the stately ceremonial would not begin for
a long time.

The window which Adrian had assigned to the two women in a room which was
to be occupied by them alone afforded a view of the entire courtyard, and
from the arm-chair which Frau Traut had had brought for her Barbara gazed
down into it with strained attention.

The first sound of the horns had saluted Ottavio Farnese.

Mounted on a spirited charger, he held aloft, as gonfaloniere of the
Church, the proud banner to be whose bearer was deemed by the Dukes of
Parma one of their loftiest titles of honour.

He was greeted by the nobles present with loud acclamations, but was
still booted and attired as beseemed a horseman. The cavaliers,
officers, and pages who attended him entered the citadel in no regular
order. But as Ottavio swung himself from his magnificently formed,
cream-coloured steed, and issued orders to his train, Barbara could look
him directly in the face and, though she thought him neither handsome nor
possessed of manly vigour, she could not help admitting that she had
rarely seen a young man of equally distinguished bearing. His every
movement bore the impress of royal self-confidence, yet at the same time