“Did the disease so cruelly mar this masterpiece of the Creator?” asked the Emperor.  “With so violent a fever it was only too natural,” replied the physician.  “Time and what our feeble skill can do will improve her condition, I hope, but—­and this causes the poor girl the keenest suffering—­the unfortunate inflammation of the bronchial tubes most seriously injures the tone of her clear voice.”

“Ah!” exclaimed the startled Emperor with sincere compassion.  “Do everything in your power, Mathys, to purify this troubled spring of melody.  I will repay you with my warmest gratitude, for, though the Romans said that Cupid conquered through the eyes, yet Barbara’s singing exerted a far more powerful influence over my heart than even her wonderful golden hair.  Restore the melting tones of her voice and, though the bond of love which rendered this month of May so exquisitely beautiful to us must remain severed, I will not fail to remember it with all graciousness.”

“That, your Majesty, can scarcely be avoided,” the physician here remarked with an embarrassment which was new in him to Charles, “for the continuance of the memory of the spring days which your Majesty recalls with such vivid pleasure seems to be assured.  Yet, if it pleases Heaven, as I have learned to-day for the first time, to call a living being into existence for this purpose——­”

“If I understand you correctly,” cried the Emperor, starting up, “I am to believe in hopes——­”

“In hopes,” interrupted the physician with complete firmness, “which must not alarm your Majesty, but render you happy.  This new branch of the illustrious trunk of your royal race I, who am only 30 a plain man, hail with proud joy, and half the world, I know, will do so with me.”

Charles, with brows contracted in a gloomy frown, gazed for a long time into vacancy.

The leech perceived how mighty a conflict between contradictory emotions would be waged in his breast, and silently gave him time to collect his thoughts.

At last, rising from his arm-chair, the Emperor struck the table with his open hand, and said:  “Whether the Lord our God awoke this new life for our punishment or our pleasure the future will teach.  What more must be done in this matter?  You know my custom in regard to such important affairs.  They are slept upon and maturely considered.  Only there is one point,” and as he uttered the words his voice assumed an imperious tone, “which is already irrevocably decided.  The world must not suspect what hope offers itself to me and another.  Tell her, Mathys, we wish her happiness; but if her maternal heart expects that I will do her child the honour of calling it mine, I must require her to keep silence, and intrust the newborn infant’s destiny, from the first hour of its birth, to my charge.”