CHAPTER XVI.

“Poor Wolf!” old Ursel had exclaimed.  But whoever had met the young knight the following morning, as he went up the stairs to the Blombergs’ rooms, would have deemed him, like Baron Malfalconnet, the happiest of mortals.

He had obeyed Dr. Hiltner’s summons, and remained a long time with him.  Then he went home at a rapid pace, for he longed to tell Barbara how fair a prospect for their future was opening before him.

She had showed her liking for him plainly enough yesterday when they parted.  What should prevent her from becoming his now that he could promise an ample income?

There was some one stirring in the private chapel as he passed, but he paid no heed; in former days many people from the neighbourhood prayed here frequently.

He found no one in the Blombergs’ home except the father.

Barbara would certainly return immediately, the old man said.  She had gone down to the chapel a short time before.  She was not in the habit of doing so at this hour, but the great favour shown her by the Emperor had probably gone to her head, and who could wonder?

Wolf also thought it natural that so great a success should excite her powerfully:  but he, too, had a similar one to relate, and, with joyful emotion, he now told the old gentleman what the syndic had offered.

The Council, which, by the establishment of the “Convivium,” had already provided for the fostering of the noble art of music, wished to do still more.  The project had been dear to the recently deceased Martin Luther, and the Ratisbon syndic, who had enjoyed his friendship, thought he was carrying out his wishes——­

Here Wolf was interrupted, for the table groaned under the blow of the old warrior’s still powerful fist, coupled with the exclamation:  “So there is still to be no rest from the accursed disturber of the peace, although he is dead!  No offence, my lad; but there can be nothing edifying to a good Christian where that Wittenberg fellow is concerned.”

“Only have patience,” Wolf interposed here, secure of victory, and now, slightly vexed with himself for his imprudence in mentioning Martin Luther’s name to the old hater of Turks and heretics, he explained that Dr. Hiltner, in the name of the Council, had offered him the position of Damian Feys, Barbara’s teacher.  The Netherlander was going home, and the magistrate was glad to have found in him, Wolf, a native of Ratisbon who would be no less skilled in fostering music in this good city.  To bind him securely, and avoid the danger of a speedy invitation elsewhere, the position offered was provided with an annual salary hitherto unprecedented in this country, and which far exceeded that of many an imperial councillor.  This had been rendered possible through a bequest, whose interest was to be devoted to the development of music, and—­if he should accept the place—­to him and his future wife.