The single open window resembled a cleft in the rocks, and looked out upon the road.  Blocks of stone, flung one upon another without regard to order, formed steps from which to look out of doors.

These stairs afforded a view of the road to the city.  Barbara had often used them when watching in the dusk of evening for her lover’s litter or, at a still later hour, for the torch-bearers who preceded it.

She could already walk firmly enough to mount the few rough steps which led to the opening in the rocks and, obeying the tameless yearning of her heart, she rose from the arm-chair and walked as rapidly as her feeble strength permitted toward the frigidarium.

It was more difficult to traverse the path, illumined by the hot July sun, than she had expected; but the pealing of the bells and the roar of the cannon continued, and now it was drowned by the fanfare of the trumpets and the shouts of the people.

All this thundering, ringing, clashing, chiming, and cheering was a greeting to him for the sight of whom her whole being so ardently longed; and when, halfway down the path, she felt the need of resting on a bench under a weeping ash, she did not obey it, but forced herself to totter on.

Drops of perspiration covered her forehead when she entered the frigidarium, but there the most delicious coolness greeted her.  Here, too, however, she could allow herself no rest, for the boys in the top of the beech, and some neighbouring trees, were already shouting their clear voices hoarse and waving caps and branches.

With trembling knees she forced herself to climb one after another of the blocks that formed the staircase.  When a slight faintness attacked her, a stalactite afforded her support, and it passed as quickly as it came.  Now she had reached her goal.  The rock on which she stood gave her feet sufficient support, as it had done many times before.

Barbara needed a few minutes in this wonderfully cool atmosphere to recover complete self-control.  Only the wild pulsation of her heart still caused a painful feeling; but if she was permitted to see the object of her love once more, the world might go to ruin and she with it.

Now she gazed from the lofty window over the open country.

She had come just at the right time.  Imperial halberdiers and horse guards, galloping up and down, kept the centre of the road free.  On the opposite side of the highway which she overlooked was a dense, countless multitude of citizens, peasants, soldiers, monks, women, and children, who with difficulty resisted the pressure of those who stood behind them, shoulder to shoulder, head to head.  Barbara from her lofty station saw hats, barets, caps, helmets, women’s caps and coifs, fair and red hair on uncovered heads and, in the centre of many, the priestly tonsure.

Then a column of dust advanced along the road from which the fanfare resounded like the scream of the hawk from the gray fog.  A few minutes later, the cloud vanished; but the shouts of the multitude increased to loud cheers when the heralds who rode at the head of the procession appeared and raised their long, glittering trumpets to their lips.  Behind them, on spirited stallions, rode the wedding marshals, members of royal families, in superb costumes with bouquets of flowers on their shoulders.