Here the sensible man interrupted her with the assurance that no one, last of all his Majesty, thought of restricting her liberty more than was reasonable. She would be permitted to walk and to use her horses exactly as she pleased, only the object of her walks and rides must be one which she could mention to her royal lover without timidity. Barbara, still with quickened breathing, then put the question how she could know this; and Adrian, with a significant smile, replied that her heart would tell her, and if it should ever err--of this he was certain--the Emperor Charles. With these words he took leave of her to go, on behalf of his master, to the marquise, and Barbara stood motionless for some time, gazing after him. In the Golden Cross Quijada asked Adrian what he thought of the singer, and it was some time ere he answered deliberately: “If only I knew exactly myself, your lordship--I am only a plain man, who wishes every one the best future. Here I do so out of regard for his Majesty, Sir Wolf Hartschwert, and the inexperienced youth of this marvellously beautiful creature. But if you were to force me by the rack to form a definite opinion of her, I could not do it. The most favourable would not be too good, the reverse scarcely too severe. To reconcile such contrasts is beyond my power. She is certainly something unusual, that will fit no mould with which I am familiar.” “If you had a son,” asked Don Luis, “would you receive her gladly as a daughter-in-law?” A gesture of denial from the valet gave eloquent expression of his opinion; but Quijada went on in a tone of anxious inquiry: “Then what will she whom he loves be to the master whose happiness and peace are as dear to you as to me?” Adrian started, and answered firmly: “For him, it seems to me, she will perhaps be the right one, for what power could she assert against his? And, besides, there is something in his Majesty, as well as in this girl, which distinguishes them from other mortals. What do I mean by that? I see and hear it, but I can neither exactly understand nor name it.” “That might be difficult even for a more adroit speaker,” replied Quijada; “but I think I know to what you allude. You and I, Master Adrian, have hearts in our breasts, like thousands of other people, and in our heads what is termed common sense. In his Majesty something else is added. It seems as though he has at command a messenger from heaven who brings him thought and decisions.” “That’s it!” exclaimed Adrian eagerly; “and whenever she raises her voice to sing, a second one stands by the side of this Barbara Blomberg.” “Only we do not yet know,” observed Quijada anxiously, “whether this second one with the singer is a messenger from heaven, like his Majesty’s, or an emissary of hell.”