“Welcome to the old home, Sir Knight!” Then, laughing gaily, she added: “Why, such a thing is unprecedented! Not a feature, not a look is unlike what it used to be! And yet you’ve been roaming five years in foreign lands! Changes take place--only look at me!--changes take place more swiftly here in Ratisbon. How you stare at me! I thought so! Out with it! Hasn’t the feather-head of those days become quite a charming young lady?” Now Wolf would gladly have made as many flattering speeches as she could desire, but his tongue refused to obey him. The new meeting was too unlike his expectation. The sight of the self-conscious woman who, in her wonderful beauty, stood leaning with folded arms on the ironing-table stirred his heart and senses too strongly. Standing motionless, he strove for words, while his eyes revealed plainly enough the passionate rapture which agitated his soul. Barbara perceived what was passing in his thoughts, and also noticed how her dress had become disarranged during her work. Flushing slightly, she pursed up her lips as if to whistle, and with her head thrust forward she blew into the air in his direction. Then, shaking her finger at him, she hastily sat down on the chest beside the fireplace, wound the kerchief which had fallen off closer around her neck, and, without the least embarrassment, pulled up her stockings. “What does it matter!” she cried with a slight shrug of the shoulders. “How often we two have waded together in water above our knees, like the storks! And yet such a thing turns the head of a youth who has returned from foreign lands a made man, and closes his bearded lips! Have you given me even a single honest word of welcome? That’s the way with all of you! And you? If you stand there already like a dumb sign-post, how will it be when I thoroughly turn your head like all the rest with my singing?” “I’ve heard you already!” he answered quickly; “magical, bewildering, magnificent! Who in the world wrought this miracle with your voice?” “There we have it!” she cried, laughing merrily and clapping her hands. “To make you speak, one need only allude distantly to music. That, too, has remained unchanged, and I am glad, for I have much to ask you in relation to it. I can learn many things from you still. But what have you there in your hand? Is it anything pretty from Brabant?” This question flowed from her lips with coaxing tenderness, and she passed her soft hand swiftly over his cheek. How happy it made him! Hitherto he had been the receiver--nay, an unfair taker--but now he was to become the giver and she would be pleased with his present.