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Georg Ebers
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 85 pages of information about Barbara Blomberg Volume 09.

The parting was a sad one to the young wife, for in Massi she lost not only a tried friend, but as it were a portion of her former life.  He had been a witness of the fairest days which Fate had granted her; he had heard her sing when she had been justified in feeling proud of her art; and he had been intimate with Wolf Hartschwert, whom she remembered with affectionate interest, though he had only informed her once in a brief letter that he was prospering in Villagarcia and his new position.  While with tearful eyes she bade Massi farewell, she gave him messages of remembrance to Wolf; and the violinist, no less agitated than herself, promised to deliver them.  He was hopefully anticipating a cheerful evening of life in the midst of his family.  Existence had promised Barbara higher things, but she seemed to have found the power to be content.  At least he had heard no complaint from her lips, and her husband had often told him of the happiness which he had obtained through her in marriage.  So he could leave her without anxiety; but she, even in the hour of parting, was too proud to offer him a glimpse of her desolate life, whose fairest ornaments were memories.

When he left her the young wife felt still poorer than before, and during the sleepless night which in imagination she had spent with her imperial child in the Dubois house, and in the days of splendour and misery at Ratisbon, she determined to clasp once more the hand of her departing friend when he set out with the Infant Philip’s train.

Although it was to start early in the morning, she was in the square in ample time, partly because she hoped to see the Emperor in the distance.

The throng that followed Philip really did resemble an army.

Barbara had already often seen the short, slender ‘Infant’, with his well-formed, fair head and light, pointed beard, who held himself so stiffly erect, and carried his head as high as if he considered no one over whom his glance wandered worthy of so great an honour.

It seemed strange to her, too, how well this man, naturally so insignificant in person, succeeded in giving his small figure the appearance of majestic dignity.  But how totally unlike him his father must have looked in his youth!  There was something austere, repellent, chilling, in the gaze which, while talking with others, he usually fixed upon the ground, and, in fact, in the whole aspect of the son.  How brightly and frankly, on the contrary, his father’s eyes, in spite of all his suffering, could sparkle even now!  How easy it would be for him to win hearts still!

If he would only come!

But this time he did not accompany his son.  Philip was on horseback, but a magnificent empty coach in the procession would receive him as soon as he left Brussels.

He wished to present a gallant appearance in the saddle on his departure, and a more daintily, carefully clad cavalier could scarcely be imagined.

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