So let him be the one who should take her to Brussels, and to whom she would give the right of calling himself her husband.

Here her brow contracted in a frown, for the journey on which she was to set out with him would lead not only to the Netherlands, but through her whole life, perhaps to the grave.

Deep resentment seized upon her, but she soon succeeded in conquering it; only the question what she had to give her suitor in return for his loyal love could not be silenced.  Yet was it she who summoned him?  Did he not possess the knowledge of everything that might have deterred another from wooing her?  Had she not showed him more than plainly how ill he had succeeded in gaining her affection?  If, nevertheless, he insisted upon winning her, he must take her as she was, though the handsome young man would have had a good right to a heart full of love.  Hers, so long as the gouty traitor lived who had ruined her whole existence, could never belong entirely to another.

Once she had preferred the handsome, stately dancer to all other men.  Might not this admiration of his person be revived?  No—­oh, no!  And it was fortunate that it was so, for she no longer desired to love—­neither him nor any one else.  On the other hand, she resolved to make his life as pleasant as lay in her power.  When what she granted him had reconciled her father to her, and she was in Brussels, perhaps she would find strength to treat Pyramus so that he would never repent his fidelity.

In the afternoon she longed to escape from the close rooms into the fresh air, and turned her steps toward Prebrunn, in order to see once more the little castle which to her was so rich in beautiful and terrible memories.

On the way she met Frau Lerch.  The old woman had kept her keenness of vision and, though Barbara tried to avoid her, the little ex-maid stopped her and asked scornfully: 

“Here in Ratisbon again, sweetheart?  How fresh you look after your severe illness!—­yet you’re still on shank’s mare, instead of in the gold coach drawn by white horses.”

Barbara abruptly turned her back upon her and went home.

As she was passing the Town Hall Pyramus Kogel left it, and she stopped as he modestly greeted her.

Very distinguished and manly he looked in his glittering armour, with the red and yellow sash and the rapier with its large, flashing basket-hilt at his side; yet she said to herself:  “Poor, handsome fellow!  How many would be proud to lean on your arm!  Why do you care for one who can never love you, and to whom you will appear insignificant to the end?”

Then she kindly clasped the hand which he extended, and permitted him to accompany her home.  On the Haidplatz she asked him whether he had read the letter which he brought from her father.

He hesitatingly assented.  Barbara lowered her eyes, and added softly: 

“It is my own dear father to whom you have been kind, and my warmest gratitude is due to you for it.”