“And that irritates your strong feeling of independence, which we know,” replied the Spaniard quietly.  “But when you listen to reason, fairest lady, you will soon be reconciled to this wise regulation of his Majesty.  If not, it will be your own loss.  But,” he added in a lowered tone, “this is no fitting place for a conversation which might easily degenerate into a quarrel.  It can be completed better in your own apartments.”

While speaking he led the way, and Barbara followed without another word of remonstrance, for soldiers of all ages and other gentlemen were walking in the large, beautiful courtyard which she overlooked; a group of lovers of horseflesh were examining some specially fine steeds, and from several of the broad windows which surrounded the Trausnitz courtyard on all sides men’s faces were looking down at her.

This courtyard had always seemed to her a stage specially suitable for the display of royal magnificence, and yet, in spite of its stately size, it would be difficult to imagine anything more pleasant, more thoroughly secluded.

It had formerly witnessed many brilliant knightly games and festal scenes, but even now it was the favourite gathering place for the inhabitants of the citadel and the guests of the ducal owner, though the latter, it is true, had ceased to live here since Landshut had become the heritage of the Munich branch of the Wittelsbach family, and the Bavarian dukes resided in Munich, the upper city on the Isar.

Just as Barbara entered the castle the vesper bell rang, and Quijada paused with bared head, his companions with clasped hands.

The girl prisoner felt little inclination to pray; she was probably thinking of a dance given here by torchlight, in which, as her uncle’s guest, she had taken part until morning began to dawn.

While they were walking on again, she also remembered the riding at the ring in the Trausnitz courtyard, which she had been permitted to witness.

The varied, magnificent spectacle had made her almost wild with delight.  The dance in this square had been one of her fairest memories.  And with what feelings she looked down into this courtyard again!  What could such an amusement be to her now?  Yet it roused a bitter feeling that, in spite of her youth, such scenes should be closed to her forever.

She silently followed the others into an airy room in the third story, whose windows afforded a beautiful view extending to the Bohemian forests.

But Barbara was too weary to bestow more than a fleeting glance upon it.

Paying no heed to the others, she sank down upon the bench near one of the walls of the room, and while she was still talking with Don Luis her new companion, of whose name she was still ignorant, brought several cushions and silently placed them behind her back.

This chamber, Quijada explained, he had selected for her by his Majesty’s permission.  The adjoining room would be occupied by this good lady—­he motioned to his companion—­the wife of Herr Adrian Dubois, his Majesty’s valet.  Being a native of Cologne, she understood German, and had offered to bear her company.  If Barbara desired, she could also summon the garde-robiere Lamperi from Ratisbon to the Trausnitz.