A wave of his hand stopped the music but, ere returning the bow of her distinguished partner, Barbara looked for the Emperor. Her eyes sought him in vain-he had left the turf under the lindens before the close of the dance. The Bishop of Arras, Malfalconnet, and several of the ladies and gentlemen who had left the tent in no small number and gone to the scene of the dancing after learning what was taking place there, had remained after the monarch’s departure. Most of them joined in the applause which the younger Granvelle eagerly commenced when the city pipers lowered their instruments. Barbara heard it, and saw that Bernhard Trainer and other young citizens of Ratisbon were following the courtiers’ example, but she seemed scarcely to notice the demonstration. The doubt whether Charles had merely not waited till the end of the dance, or had already left the festival, made her forget everything else. Through the Bishop of Arras she learned that his Majesty had gone home. No one, not even the baron and Quijada, had received a message for her. This fresh humiliation pierced her heart like a knife. On every similar occasion hitherto he had sent her a few kind words, or, if Don Luis was the messenger, tender ones. Yet she was obliged to force herself to smile, in order not to betray what was passing in her mind. Besides, she could not shake off the Duke of Saxony like the poor, handsome recruiting officer, Pyramus Kogel. Fortunately, some of the most prominent Ratisbon citizens now crowded around Maurice to thank him for the honour which he had done the city. She availed herself of the favourable opportunity to beg Granvelle, in a low tone, to keep the duke away from her the next morning until his departure at noon, and, if possible, now. “One service for another,” replied the statesman. “I will rid you of the most desirable admirer in Germany. But, on the day after to-morrow, you will adorn my modest banquet with the singing of the most gifted artist in the world.” “Gladly, unless his Majesty forbids me to do so,” replied Barbara. A few minutes later she informed her passionate young ducal lover, who wished to call upon her in her own home that very evening, that it would be utterly impossible. With an air of the greatest regret, she said that her little castle was guarded like an endangered citadel; and when the duke proposed a meeting, he was interrupted by the Bishop of Arras, who desired to speak to him about “important business.” In spite of the late hour, the minister, even without the girl’s request, would have sought an audience with the duke, and to the ambitious Maurice politics and the important plans being prepared for immediate execution were of infinitely greater value than a love adventure, no matter what hours of pleasure it promised to afford. So Barbara succeeded in taking leave of the duke without giving him offence.