The favour which the Emperor showed Barbara seemed to him not only a piece of great good fortune for her, but also for himself.  He knew Charles’s delicate appreciation of music, and could confidently anticipate that her voice would satisfy him and win his interest.  But if this occurred, and the sovereign learned that Wolf wished to marry the singer to whom their Majesties owed such great pleasure, it would be an easy matter for the Emperor to place him in a position which could not fail to content the just desire of the girl whom he loved for an existence free from want.  The interview with the monarch, to which he was to lead Barbara at once, therefore seemed to him like a bridge to her consent, and when he met at the Ark the court musician, Massi, followed by a servant carrying his violin case, he called to him:  “Just look at the shining stars up above us, Massi!  They are friendly to me, and, if they keep their promise, the journey here will be blessed.”

“Amen!” replied the other as he pressed his hand cordially and asked for further particulars; but Wolf put him off until the next day, exclaim ing:  “Jungfrau Blomberg, whose voice and execution bewitched you also, is now to sing before his Majesty.  Wish her the best luck, for on her success depend many things for her, and perhaps for your friend also.  Once more, uphold us!”

He turned toward the Grieb as he spoke, and the longing for Barbara quickened his pace.

The fear that the gouty monarch could cherish any other wishes concerning the young girl than to enjoy her singing was farthest from his thoughts.

Who would ever have seen an aspirant for woman’s favour in the suffering Emperor, bowed during the last few years by the heaviest political cares, and whose comparative youthfulness was easily overlooked?

At the main entrance of the Grieb Wolf was accosted by the master of the house.

The wife of this obedient husband, Frau Lerch, known throughout all Ratisbon as “Lerch, the mantuamaker,” had told him to keep watch, and impressed it upon him to let no one, no matter who it might be, enter her rooms on the ground floor except the cantor knight, as she called Wolf.

Barbara had had little time for reflection as she fled from the Emperor’s envoys, but a clever woman’s brain thinks quickly when an important decision is to be made, and while turning the gray she had decided that it would be better for her purpose, and the haste connected with it, to go to Frau Lerch than to her own home.

In the Grieb she was sure of finding admittance at once if she knocked at Frau Lerch’s window, while the cantor house was closed early, and a long time might pass before the door opened to her.  Besides, she did not know how her father, who could never be depended upon in such matters, would regard the honour that awaited her; thirdly—­and this alone was decisive—­the white dress, which she meant to wear instead of the riding habit, was at Frau Lerch’s, and what good service the skilful, nimble fingers of her mother’s ex-maid could render in this hurried change of garb.