A low bow followed this remark; then, with quiet dignity, the major-domo reported that the leaders of the orchestra and the boy choir had been waiting below—­and with them Sir Wolf Hartschwert and an old gentleman, the father of this lady—­a considerable time for her return.  So it seemed to him advisable, unless his majesty wished to reveal this sweet secret to the world, to part from his beautiful friend, at least for a short space.

The Emperor Charles did not permit such suggestions even from those who were nearest and dearest to him, and he was already starting up indignantly to thrust Don Luis back behind the barriers through which he had broken, when Barbara with tender persuasion entreated her lover, for her sake, to exercise caution.  Charles at last consented to part from her for a time.  He was sure of her; for he read in the dewy brightness of her eyes how hard it was for her also to release herself from his embrace.

Then, removing the diamond and ruby star from the lace at his neck, he pinned it on Barbara’s bosom, with the exclamation, “In memory of this hour!”

He afterward added, as if in explanation, that the star might show to those below what had detained her here, and asked earnestly whether he might hope to see her again in an hour, if a faithful man—­here he motioned to Quijada—­accompanied her hither, and later escorted her home again?

A silent nod promised the fulfilment of this request.

The Emperor then carried on a short conversation with Quijada, which was unintelligible to Barbara; and after he had retired to summon the marquise, Charles profited, like an impetuous youth, by the brief period in which he was again alone with his love, and entreated her to consider that, if she remained absent long, the “amore langueo” would rob him of his reason.

“Your great intellect,” she replied, with a faint sigh.  “My small wits—­Holy Virgin!—­flew far away at the first word of love from the lips of my royal master.”

Then, drawing herself up to her full height, she passed her hand across her brow and defiantly exclaimed:  “And why should I think and ponder?  I will be happy, and make you happy also, my only love!”

As she spoke she again threw herself upon his breast, but only for a few brief moments.  Don Luis Quijada reappeared with the marquise, and conducted both ladies out of the imperial apartment.

Outside the door the major-domo detained Barbara, and had a tolerably long conversation with her, of which the marquise vainly endeavoured to catch even a few words.

At last he committed the girl to the old nobleman’s charge and returned to the Emperor.

The marquise received Barbara with the assurance that she had found in her a warm, nay, a maternal friend.

If this beautiful creature was not alreadv the object of the Emperor’s love, the experienced old woman told herself, she must very soon become so.