His heart had not been so sore for a long time, and it was Barbara’s fault.  Yet he longed for her.  If she had laid her delicate white hand upon his brow, he said to himself, or had he been permitted to listen to even one of her deeply felt religious songs, it would have cheered his soul and even alleviated his physical suffering.  Several times he stretched his hand toward the bell to send for her; but she had offended him so deeply that he must at least let her feel how gravely she had erred, and that the lion could not be irritated unpunished, so he conquered himself and remained alone.  The sense of offended majesty strengthened his power of resisting the longing for her.

Indignant with himself, he again drew the maps toward him.  But like a cloth fluttering up and down between a picture and the beholder, memories of Barbara forced themselves between him and the plans over which he was bending.

This could not continue!

Perhaps, after all, her singing was the only thing which could restore his lost composure.  He longed for it even more ardently than for her face.  If he sent for her, he could show her by his manner what fruit her transgressions had borne.  The rest would follow as a matter of course.  Now every fibre of his being yearned for the melody of her voice.

Obeying a hasty resolution, he rang the bell and ordered Adrian to call Quijada and command Barbara to sing in the Golden Cross that afternoon.

After the valet had replaced his aching foot in the right position, Don Luis appeared.  Without any further comment the Emperor informed him that he had determined to sever the bond of love which united him to the singer.

While speaking, he looked his friend sharply in the face, and when he saw, by his silent bow, that his decision called forth no deeper emotion in him, he carelessly added that, nevertheless, he intended to hear her sing that day, and perhaps many times more.

Perceiving a significant smile upon the lips of the faithful follower, and recognising the peril contained in the last resolve, he shook his finger at Quijada, saying:  “As if even the inmost recesses of your soul were concealed from me!  You are asking yourself, Why does Charles deny me leave to visit Villagarcia, and thereby cruelly prevent my being happy with my dear, beautiful young wife, after so long a separation, if he considers himself strong enough to turn his back, without further ceremony, upon the woman he loves, after seeing and hearing her again?”

Your Majesty has read correctly,” replied Don Luis, “yet my wish for a brief stay with Doha Magdalena de Ulloa is very different from your Majesty’s desire.”

“How?” demanded Charles in a sharp tone of inquiry.  “Is my strength of will, in your opinion, so far inferior to yours?”

“Your Majesty can scarcely deem me capable of so presumptuous an error,” replied Quijada.  “But your Majesty is Charles V, who has no superior save our Lord in heaven.  I, on the contrary, am only a Castilian nobleman, and as such prize my honour as my highest treasure; but, above all other things, even above the lady of my heart, stands the King.”