Then Barbara laughed gaily in her clear, bell like tones, seized the clumsy Goliath’s long, pointed beard, and played all sorts of pranks upon him with such joyous mirth that, when she at last released him, he ran after her like a young lover to catch her; but she had nimbler feet, and he was far enough behind when she called from the threshold: “I won’t let myself be caught, but since your pretty white goat’s beard bewitches me, I’ll be obliging to-day.” She laughingly kissed her hand to him from the doorway as she spoke, and it seemed as though her yielding was to be instantly rewarded, for before she left the house Chamberlain de Praet appeared to summon the choir to the Golden Cross at one o’clock. Barbara’s head was proudly erect as she crossed the square. Wolf followed her, and, on reaching home, found her engaged in a little dispute with her father. The latter had been much disgusted with himself for his complaisance the day before. Although Wolf had come to escort Barbara to the Emperor’s lodgings, he had accompanied his child to the Golden Cross, where she was received by Maestro Appenzelder. Then, since he could only have heard the singing under conditions which seemed unendurable to his pride, he sullenly retired to drink his beer in the tap-room of the New Scales. As, on account of the late hour, he found no other guest, he did not remain there long, but returned to the Haidplatz to go home with Barbara. This he considered his paternal duty, for already he saw in imagination the counts and knights who, after the Emperor and the Queen had loaded her with praise and honour, would wish to escort her home. Dainty pages certainly would not be deprived of the favour of carrying her train and lighting her way with torches. But he knew courtiers and these saucy scions of the noblest houses, and hoped that her father’s presence would hold their insolence in check. Therefore he had endeavoured to give to his outer man an appearance which would command respect, for he wore his helmet, his coat of mail, and over it the red scarf which his dead wife had embroidered with gold flowers and mountains-his coat-of-arms. In spite of the indispensable cane in his right hand, he wore his long battle sword, but he would have been wiser to leave it at home. While pacing up and down before the Golden Cross in the silent night to wait for his daughter, the halberdiers at the entrance noticed him. What was the big man doing here at this late hour? How dared he venture to wear a sword in the precincts of the Emperor’s residence, contrary to the law, and, moreover, a weapon of such unusual length and width, which had not been carried for a long while?