The girl held out her hand to him, saying:  “How long you have been a brother to me!  But, as for your advice—­Holy Virgin!—­I know now less than ever how I am to fare; but I shall soon learn.  I can say no more.  It must be a severe trial to listen to me.  Such a raven’s croak from the throat which usually gave you pleasure, and to which you gladly listened!  Shall I myself ever grow accustomed to this discord?  And you?  Answer honestly—­I should like to know whether it is very, very terrible to hear.”

“You are still hoarse,” was the reply.  “Such things pass away in a few weeks, and it will again be a pleasure to hear you sing.”

“Do you really think so?” she cried with sparkling, eyes.

“Firmly and positively,” answered the young knight in a tone of most honest conviction; but she repeated in joyous excitement, “Firmly and positively,” and then eagerly continued:  “Oh, if you should be right, Wolf, how happy and grateful I would be, in spite of everything!  But I can talk no longer now.  Come again to-morrow, and then the oftener the better.”

“Unfortunately, that can not be, gladly as I would do so,” he answered sadly, extending his hand in farewell.  “In a few days I shall return to Brussels.”

“To remain with the regent?” asked Barbara eagerly.

“No,” he answered firmly.  “After a short stay with her Majesty, I shall enter the service of Don Luis Quijada, or rather of his wife.”

“O-o-oh!” she murmured slowly.  “The world seems wholly strange to me after my long illness.  I must first collect my thoughts, and that is now utterly impossible.  To-morrow, Wolf!  Won’t you come to-morrow?  Then I shall know better what is before me.  Thanks, cordial thanks, and if tomorrow I deny myself to every one else, I will admit you.”

After Wolf had gone, Barbara gazed fixedly into vacancy.  What did the aspiring young musician seek with a nobleman’s wife in a lonely Spanish castle?  Were his wings broken, too, and did he desire only seclusion and quiet?

But the anxiety which dominated her mind prevented her pursuing the same thought longer.  Dr. Mathys had promised to tell her the result of his conversation with the Emperor as soon as possible, and yet he had not returned.

Fool that she was!

Even on a swift steed he could not have traversed the road back to the castle if he had been detained only half an hour in the Golden Cross.  It was impatience which made the minutes become quarters of an hour.  She would have liked to go to the cool frigidarium again to watch for the physician’s litter; but she was warned, and had accustomed herself to follow the doctor’s directions as obediently as a dutiful child.  Besides, Sister Hyacinthe no longer left her alone out of doors, and possessed a reliable representative, who had won Barbara’s confidence and affection, in Frau Lamperi, the garde-robiere, whom the Queen of Hungary had not yet summoned.