This prospect offered her the greatest attraction, and yet she desired nothing, nothing more from him except to be permitted to watch his destiny.  It promised to be no happy one, but this fact robbed the wish of no charm.

Besides, the desire for a richer life again began to stir within her soul, and what sustenance for the eye and ear Gombert, Frau Traut, and now also Lamperi promised her in Brussels!

Her means would enable her to go there with the maid and live in a quiet way.  If her father forgave her and would join her in the city, she would rejoice.  But he was bound to Ratisbon by so many ties, and had so many new tales to relate in its taprooms, that he would certainly return to it.  So she must leave him; it was growing too hot for her here.

She found old Ursel cheerful, and was less harshly received than at her last visit.  True, Barbara came when she was in a particularly happy mood, because a letter from Wolf stated that he already felt perfectly at home in Quijada’s castle at Villagarcia, and that Dona Magdalena de Ulloa was a lady of rare beauty and kindness of heart.  Her musical talent was considerable, and she devoted every leisure hour to playing on stringed instruments and singing.  True, there were not too many, for the childless woman had made herself the mother of the poor and sick upon her estates, and had even established a little school where he assisted her as singing-master.

So Barbara was at least relieved from self-reproach for having brought misfortune upon this faithful friend.  This somewhat soothed her sorely burdened heart, and yet in her old, more than plain lodgings, with their small, bare rooms, she often felt as though the walls were falling upon her.  Besides, what she saw from the open window in Red Cock Street was disagreeable and annoying.

When evening came she went to rest early, but troubled dreams disturbed her sleep.

The dawn which waked her seemed like a deliverance, and directly after mass she hurried out of the gate and into the open country.

On her return she found a letter from her father.

Pyramus Kogel was its bearer, and he had left the message that he would return the next day.  This time her father had written with his own hand.  The letters were irregular and crooked enough, but they were large, and there were not too many of them.  He now knew what people were saying about her.  It had pierced the very depths of his old heart and darkened his life.  But he could not curse her, because she was his only child, and also because he told himself how much easier her execrable vanity had made the Emperor Charles’s game.  Nor would he give her up as lost, and his travelling companion.  Pyramus, who was like a son to him, was ready to aid him, for his love was so true and steadfast that he still wished to make her his wife, and offered through him to share everything with her, even his honourable name.