stony silence which the major-domo maintained toward all questions
concerning the lad would neither permit him to soothe his wife nor
confirm her fear. At any rate, Geronimo must be the son of some great
noble. This was perfectly apparent from his bearing, the symmetry of his
limbs, his frank, imperious nature--nay, from every movement of this
remarkable child.

At this assurance Barbara's soul glowed with proud maternal joy. Her
blue eyes sparkled with a brighter light, and the sunny, radiant glance
with which she thanked Wolf for his information exerted an unexpected
influence upon him, for he shrank back as though the curtain which
concealed a rare marvel had been lifted and, drawing a long breath,
gazed into her beautiful, joyous face.

It seemed as if the luminous reflection of the proud, noble, and pure
delight which shone upon him from her eyes had beamed in little
Geronimo's a few weeks before when he rushed up to him to show his
hunting spoils, a fitchet and several birds which he had killed with his
pretty little cross-bow, a gift from Dona Magdalena. And Barbara's wavy
golden hair, the little dimple in her cheek! Geronimo must be her child;
this wonderful resemblance could not deceive.

"Barbara," he cried, pressing his hand to his brow with deep emotion,
"Geronimo is--gracious Virgin!--the handsome, proud, deserted boy
may be----"

But an imperious gesture from the young wife closed his lips; Frau
Lamperi had just led her two boys, beautifully dressed as they always
were when any distinguished visitor called upon their mother, into the
room. The expression of radiant happiness which had just illumined her