She must now bid farewell to Appenzelder and Massi, and it was evident that the parting was hard for them also.  The eyes of the former even grew dim with tears as he pressed a farewell kiss upon Barbara’s brow.  The little Maltese, Hannibal Melas, would have preferred to stay with her—­nay, he did not cease entreating her to keep him, though only as a page; but how could he have been useful to her?

Finally, she was obliged to bid Wolf, too, farewell, perhaps for many years.

During the last few days he had again proved his old friendship in the most loyal manner.  Through Quijada he had learned everything which concerned her and the Emperor Charles, and this had transformed his former love for Barbara, which was by no means dead, into tender compassion.

Not to serve the monarch or the husband of his new mistress in Villagarcia, but merely to lighten her own hard fate, he had not ceased to represent what consequences it might entail upon her if she should continue to defy the Emperor’s command so obstinately.

He, too, saw in the convent the fitting place for her future life, now bereft of its best possessions; but although she succeeded in retaining her composure during his entreaties and warnings, she still most positively refused to obey the Emperor’s order.

Her strong desire to visit Landshut was by no means solely from the necessity of hearing the particulars about her father, and the wish to see so brilliant an assemblage of troops from all countries, but especially the consuming longing to gaze once more into the face of the lover who was now making her so miserable, yet to whom she owed the greatest joy of her life.

And more!

She thought it would restore her peace of mind forever if she could succeed in speaking to him for even one brief moment and telling him what a transformation his guilt had wrought in her ardent love and her whole nature.

Wolf’s representations and imploring entreaties remained as futile as those of Sister Hyacinthe and the abbesses of the Clare Sisters and the Convent of the Holy Cross, who had sought her by the confessor’s wish.  None of these pious women, except her nurse, knew the hope she cherished.  They saw in her only the Emperor’s discarded love; yet as such it seemed to them that Barbara was bidden to turn her back upon the world, which had nothing similar to offer her, in order, as the Saviour’s bride, to seek a new and loftier happiness.

But Barbara’s vivacious temperament shrank from their summons as from the tomb or the dungeon and, with all due reverence, she said so to the kindly nuns.

She desired no new happiness, nay, she could not imagine that she would ever again find joy in anything save the heavenly gift which she expected with increasing fear, and yet glad hope.  Yet they wished to deprive her of this exquisite treasure, this peerless comfort for the soul!  But she had learned how to defend herself, and they should never succeed in accomplishing this shameful purpose.  She would keep her child, though it increased the Emperor’s resentment to the highest pitch, and deprived her of every expectation of his care.