Emperor. A youth from the school of poets, attired as the goddess of
Fame, bewailed in well-rhymed verses that for a long time no one had
given her so much to do as the Emperor Charles. His comrade, who,
bearing a cornucopia in his arms, represented Fortune, assured her
companion, in still more bombastic verse, that she should certainly
expect far more from her, the goddess of Fame, in favour of his Majesty.
This would continue until her own end and that of all the Olympians,
because the Emperor Charles himself was an immortal. He had made them
both subject to him. Fortune as well as Fame must obey his sign. But
there was another younger friend of the gods for whom, on account of the
shortness of his life, they had been able to do less, but for whom they
also held in readiness their best and greatest gifts. He, too, would
succeed in rendering them his subjects. While speaking, Fortune pointed
with the cornucopia and Fame with the trumpet to Duke Maurice, and
besought their indulgent lord and master, the Emperor Charles, to be
permitted to show some of their young favourite's possessions, by whose
means he, too, would succeed in retaining them in his service.
Then Pallas Athene appeared with the university city of Leipsic, the
latter laden with all sorts of symbols of knowledge. Next came Plutus,
the god of Wealth, followed by Freiberg miners bearing large specimens of
silver ore in buckets and baskets; and, lastly, Mars, the god of War,
leading by a long chain two camels on which rode captive and fettered
Turks.
During these spectacles, which were followed by other similar ones,
Barbara had been thinking of her own affairs, and gazed more frequently
at her lover and his distinguished guests than at the former.
But the next group interested her more because it seemed to honour the
Emperor's taste for astronomy, of which he had often talked with her.
On a long cart, drawn by powerful stallions, appeared a gigantic
firmament in the shape of a hemisphere, on whose upper surface the sun,
moon, and stars were seen shining in radiant light. The moon passed
through all her changes, the sun and planets moved, and from the dome
echoed songs and lute-playing, which were intended to represent the music
of the spheres. Another chorus was heard from a basket of flowers of
stupendous size. Among the natural and artificial blossoms sat and lay
upon leaves and in the calyxes of the flowers child genii, who flung to
the Emperor beautiful bouquets, and into the laps and at the feet of the
ladies in the tent smaller ones and single flowers.
Barbara, too, did not go with empty hands. The Cupid who had thrown his
to her was the little Maltese Hannibal, who sang with other boys as
"Voices of the Flowers," and later was to take part in the great chorus.
This friendly remembrance of her young fellow-artist cheered Barbara,
and when a fight began, which was carried on by a dozen trained champions
brought from Strasburg expressly for this purpose, she turned her
attention to it.
At first this dealing blows at one another with blunt weapons offered her
little amusement; but when shouts from the tent and the stands cheered
the men from the Mark, and powerful blows incensed to fury those who were
struck, the scene began to enthral her.
A handsome, agile youth, to her sincere regret, had just fallen, but
swiftly recovered his elasticity, and, springing to his feet, belaboured
his opponent, a clumsy giant, so skilfully and vigorously that the bright
blood streamed down his ugly face and big body. Barbara's cheeks flushed
with sympathy. That was right. Skill and grace ought everywhere to
conquer hideous rude force.
If she had been a man she would have found her greatest happiness, as her
father did, in battle, in measuring her own strength with another's. Now
she was obliged to defend herself with other weapons than blunt swords,
and when she saw the champions, six against six, again rush upon one
another, and one side drive the other back, her vivid imagination
transported her into the midst of the victors, and it seemed as if the
marquise and the whole throng of arrogant dames in the tent, as well as
the Ratisbon women on the stands who had insulted her by their haughty
airs of virtue, were fleeing from her presence.
How repulsive these envious, hypocritical people were! How she hated
everything that threatened to estrange her lover's heart! To them also
belonged the scoundrel who, she supposed, had betrayed the sale of the
star to the Emperor. She resolved to confess to Charles how she had been
led to commit this offence, which was indeed hard to forgive. Perhaps
all would then be well again, for in this unfortunate action she could
recognise the sole wrong which she had ever inflicted upon her lover.
She could not help attributing his humiliating manner to it alone, for
her love had always remained the same, and only yesterday, after she had
sung before the Duke of Saxony, Appenzelder, who never flattered, had
assured her that her voice had gained in power, her expression in depth,
and she herself felt that it was so.
Music was still the firmest bond that united her to her lover. So long
as her art remained faithful, he could not abandon her. This conviction
was transformed into certainty when the final performance began, and the
Ratisbon choir, under the direction of Damian Feys, commenced the mighty
hymn with which the composer, Jean Courtois, had greeted the Emperor
Charles in Cambray:
"Venite populi terrai"--"Come hither, ye nations of the earth"--this
motet for four voices called imperiously to all mankind like a joyous
summons.
"Ave Cesar, ave majestas sacra," sounded in solemn, religious tones the
greeting to the greatest of monarchs. It seemed to transport the
listener to the summit of the cathedral, as the choir now called to the
ruler that the earth was full of his renown. The Ratisbon singers and
the able Feys did their best, and this mighty act of homage of all the
nations of the earth by no means failed to produce its effect upon him to
whom it was addressed.
While Barbara listened, deeply agitated, she did not avert her eyes from
her lover's face, which was brightly illumined by a pyramid of candles on
each side of the two thrones.
Every trace of weariness, indifference, and discomfort had vanished from
Charles's features. His heart, like hers--she knew it--was now throbbing
higher. If he had just been enduring pain, this singing must have driven
it away or lessened it, and he had certainly felt gratefully what power
dwells in the divine art.
This noble composition, Barbara realized it, would again draw her near
her lover, and the confirmation of this hope was not delayed, for as soon
as the last notes of the motet and the storm of applause that followed
had died away, the Emperor, amid the renewed roar of the artillery, rose
and looked around him--surely for her.
The good citizens of Ratisbon! No matter how much more bunting they had
cut up in honour of the Saxon duke than of the Emperor, how bombastic
were the verses composed and repeated in praise of Maurice, this paean of
homage put all their efforts to shame. It suited only one, lauded a
grandeur and dignity which stood firm as indestructible cliffs, and which
no one here possessed save the Emperor Charles.
Who would have ventured to apply this motet to the brave and clever
Saxon, high as he, too, towered above most of his peers? What did the
nations of the earth know about him? How small was the world still that
was full of his renown!
This singing had reminded both princes of Barbara, and they looked for
her. The Emperor perceived her first, beckoned kindly to her, and, after
conversing with her for a while so graciously that it aroused the envy of
the other ladies in the tent, he said eagerly: "Not sung amiss for your
Ratisbon, I should think. But how this superb composition was sung six
years ago at Catnbray, under the direction of Courtois himself!--that,
yes, that is one of the things never to be forgotten. Thirty-four
singers, and what power, what precision, and, moreover, the great charm
of novelty! I have certainly been permitted to hear many things----"
Here he paused; the Cardinal of Trent was approaching with the Bishop of
Arras.
The younger Granvelle, with his father, had also been present at the
performance of this motet of homage at Cambray, and respectfully
confirmed his Majesty's remark, speaking with special warmth of the
fervour and delicacy with which Jean Courtois had conducted the choir.
The cardinal had no wish to detract from the merits of the Netherland
maestro, but he called the Emperor's attention to young Orlando di Lasso,
the leader of the orchestra in the Lateran at Rome, who, in his opinion,
was destined as a composer and conductor to cast into the shade all the
musicians of his time. He was born in Hennegau. The goddess of Music
continued to honour the Netherlands with her special favour.
During this conversation Barbara had stepped modestly aside. Charles
glanced toward her several times to address her again, but when the
Bishop of Arras whispered that, before the commencement of the festival,
the cardinal had received despatches from the Council and from Rome, he
motioned to both prelates to follow him, and, paying no further heed to
Barbara--nay, without even vouchsafing her a farewell wave of the hand--
conducted them to the rear of the tent.
Again the girl's heart ached in her abandonment. Duke Maurice, too, had
vanished. When he saw the Emperor address her he had left the tent.
Dancing had begun, and he was now accepting the invitation of the
magistrate Ambrosius Ammann to inaugurate the young people's pleasure as
leader of the Polish dance.
For a time Barbara stood as if spellbound to the spot where her lover had
so suddenly turned away from her.
She was again experiencing what Adrian had predicted--politics made
Charles forget everything else, even love. How would it be when war
actually came?
Now, after the Emperor had showed her that he still deemed her worthy of
regard, she felt for the first time thoroughly neglected, and with
difficulty restrained her tears. She would have liked to follow Charles,
and at every peril whisper softly, so that he alone could hear, yet with
all the sharpness of her resentment, that it was unchivalrous to leave
her standing here like an outcast, and that she demanded to learn why she
had forfeited his love.
The wild throbbing of her heart impeded her breathing, and, in the
indignation of her soul, she longed to escape fresh humiliation and to
leave the festival.
But again Baron Malfalconnet appeared as a preserver in the hour of need,
and, with the profound submissiveness bordering upon mockery which he
always showed her, asked why she had so speedily deprived his Majesty of
the pleasure of her society. Barbara gave way to her wrath and, while
vehemently forbidding the unseemly jibe, glanced with a bitter smile
toward the Emperor, who, in conversation with the two dignitaries, seemed
to have forgotten everything around him.
"The destiny of the world," observed the baron, "can not be set to dance
music. The domain of your obedient admirer, Malfalconnet, on the
contrary, obeys solely the heart throbs in this loyal breast; and if you,
fairest of women, will allow yourself to be satisfied with so small a
realm of sovereignty, it is at your disposal, together with these
tolerably agile feet, which still wait in vain for the well-merited
imperial gout."
The sharp refusal which this proposition received amused the baron
instead of offending him, and passing into a more conversational tone, he
proposed to her to leave this abode of ennui, where even the poor satyrs
on the hangings were holding their big hands over their mouths to hide
their yawns, and go with him to the dancing floor.
Barbara laid her hand on his arm and followed him to the pleasure ground
under the lindens, where the pretty daughters of the Ratisbon noble
families had just commenced a dance with the gentlemen belonging to their
circle.
Barbara had gone to school, exchanged kisses, and was a relative or
friend of most of these young girls in light gala dresses, adorned with
coloured flowers, whose names Malfalconnet asked, yet, after an interval
of these few weeks, she met them like a stranger.
The love which united her to the Emperor had raised her far above them.
Accustomed to give herself up entirely to the gifts which the present
offered, she had turned her back on Ratisbon and its inhabitants, with
whom, during this period of happiness she could easily dispense, as if
they were a forgotten world. There was no one in her native city whom
she seriously missed or to whom she was strongly drawn. That she, too,
offered these people little, and was of small importance, self-love had
never permitted her to realize, and therefore she felt an emotion of
painful surprise when she perceived the deep gulf which separated her
from her fellow-citizens of both sexes.
Now her old friends and acquaintances showed her plainly enough how
little they cared for her withdrawal.
Pretty Elspet Zohrer, with whom she had contended for the recruiting
officer, Pyramus Kogel, was standing opposite to her, by her partner's
side, in the same row with charming little Mietz Schiltl, Anne Mirl
Woller, her cousin, Marg Thun, and the others.
The Zauner, which they were dancing with a solemn dignity that aroused
the baron's mirth, afforded them an opportunity to look around them, and
they eagerly availed themselves of it; nay, they almost all glanced at
Barbara, and then, with evident intention, away from her, after Elspet
Zohrer, with a contemptuous elevation of her dainty little snub nose, had
ignored her schoolmate's greeting.
Barbara drew herself up, and the air of unapproachable dignity which she
assumed well suited the aristocratic gentleman at her side, whom every
one knew as the most brilliant, witty, and extravagant noble at the
Emperor's court. At the same time she addressed the baron, whom she had
hitherto kept at a distance, with unconstrained familiarity, and as the
eyes of the mothers also rested upon her, remarks which might have driven
the blood to her cheeks were made upon the intimate terms existing
between the "Emperor's sweetheart" and the profligate and spendthrift
Malfalconnet.
True, Barbara could not understand what they were saying, but it was easy
enough to perceive in what way they were talking about her.
Yet what gave these women the right to condemn her?
They bore her a grudge because she had distinguished herself by her art,
while their little geese were idle at home or, at most, busied themselves
in the kitchen, at the spinning wheel, in dancing, and whatever was
connected with it while waiting for their future husbands. The favour
which the most illustrious of mortals showed her they imputed to her as a
crime.
How could they know that she was more to the Emperor than the artist
whose singing enraptured him?
The girls yonder--her Woller cousins certainly--merely held aloof because
their mothers commanded them to do it. Only in the case of a few need
she fear that jealousy and envy had taken possession of them. Yet what
did she care for them and their behaviour? She looked over their heads
with the air of a queen.
But what was the meaning of this?
As soon as the dance was over, a pretty young girl, scarcely seventeen
years old, with blue forget-me-nots in her fair hair and on her breast,
left her partner and came directly toward Barbara.
Her head drooped and she hesitated shyly as she did so, but her modest
timidity was so charming that the dissolute courtier at Barbara's side
felt a throb of sympathy, and gazed down at her like a benevolent
fatherly friend as she held out her hand to his companion.
He did not think Martina Hiltner actually beautiful as she stood close
before him, but, on the other hand, inexpressibly charming in her modest
grace.
That it was she who came to Barbara so confidingly increased his good
opinion of the self-reliant, hot-blooded girl who had won the Emperor's
love, and therefore he was deeply angered when the latter answered
Martina's greeting curtly and coldly, and, without vouchsafing her any
further words, requested him to summon one of the attendants who were
serving refreshments.
Malfalconnet glanced significantly toward Martina, and, while offering
Barbara a goblet of lemonade, said, "There is candied lemon and other
seasoning in it, so it will probably suit your taste, exacting beauty,
since you appear to dislike what is pure."
"Only when poison is mixed with it," she answered quickly, tossing her
head arrogantly. Then, controlling herself, she added in an explanatory
tone: "In this case, Baron, your far-famed penetration deceived you. It
gave me more pain than you will believe to reject the friendly advances
of this lovely child, but her father is the head of the Lutheran heresy
here, and the almoner----"
"Then that certainly alters the case," the other interrupted. "Where the
Holy Inquisition threatens, I should be capable of denying a friend
thrice ere the cock crew. But what a number of charming young faces
there are on this Lindenplatz! Here one can understand why Ratisbon,
like the French Arles, is famed for the beauty of her daughters. It was
not easy for you to earn the reputation of the greatest beauty here.
You have also gained that of the most cruel one. You make me feel it.
But if you wish to cast into oblivion the poisoned cup proffered just
now, do me the favour to trust yourself to my guidance in the next
dance."
"Impossible," answered Barbara firmly. "If I were really cruel, I would
yield to your skill in tempting, and render you the base betrayer of the
greatest and noblest of masters."
"Does not every one who gazes at your beauty or listens to your song
become such a monster, at least in thought?" asked the baron gaily.
"Are you really so inexorable about the dance?"
"As this statue," Barbara answered with mirthful resolution, pointing to
a plaster figure which was intended to represent the goddess Flora or the
month of May. "But let us stay here a few minutes longer, though only as
spectators."
Barbara expressed this wish because a group of young gentlemen, who had
always been among those who sought her most eagerly for a partner at the
dances in the New Scales, had attracted her attention. They were engaged
in an animated discussion, which from their glances and gestures
evidently concerned Barbara.
Bernhard Trainer, the tall son of an old and wealthy family, who loved
Martina Hiltner, and had been incensed by Barbara's treatment of her,
seemed to gain his point, and when the city pipers began to play again,
all of them--probably a dozen in number--passed by her arm-in-arm in
couples, with their eyes studiously fixed upon the opposite side of the
dancing floor.
Barbara could entertain no doubt that this insulting act was intended to
wound her. The "little castle," as it was called in Prebrunn, owned by
Bernhard Trainer's family, was near the bishop's house which she
occupied. Therefore the Trainers had probably heard more than others
about the visits she received. Or did the gentlemen consider that she
deserved punishment for not treating Martina more kindly?
Whatever might have caused the unseemly act, in Barbara's eyes it was a
base trick, which filled her with furious rage against the instigators.
Had she shared the Emperor's power, it would have been a delight to her
in this hour to repay the malignant insult in the same or far heavier
coin. But, on Malfalconnet's account, she must submit in silence to what
had been inflicted upon her.
So, in a muffled tone, she requested the baron to take her back to the
tent, but while fulfilling her wish he wondered at the long strides of
the capricious young lady at his side, and the mortifying inattention
with which she received his questions.
Meanwhile the Emperor had returned to the throne, and Maurice of Saxony
was again standing beside him, while the chamberlain Andreas Wolff was
humbly, inviting the monarch to make the Ratisbon young people happy by
visiting the scene of the dancing.
After a dance of inquiry at the duke, Charles assented to this request.
But they must pardon him if he remained a shorter time than he himself
would desire, as the physician was urging his return home.
While the chamberlain was retiring, Charles saw Barbara leaning on
Malfalconnet's arm, beckoned to them, and asked her whether she had
yielded to her love for dancing.
A brief "No, your Majesty," assured him of the contrary, and led him to
make the remark that whoever exercised a noble art so admirably as she
would be wise to refrain from one which could afford nobody any higher
pleasure than the peasant and his sweetheart, if they only had sound
feet.
The counsel sounded harsh, almost warning, and the already irritated girl
with difficulty restrained a sharp reply; but the Emperor was already
rising, that, leaning on Quijada's arm, he might seek the dancing ground.
Meantime the young Saxon duke had approached Barbara, and expressed his
admiration of the successful festival, but she scarcely heard what he
said. Yet when she turned her face toward him, and his ardent gaze
rested yearningly upon her, she felt that the opportunity had now come to
carry out her half-forgotten intention of arousing the jealousy of her
royal lover.
Whatever it might cost, she must undertake the risk.
Summoning all her strength of will, she silenced the bitter resentment
which filled her heart, and a sunny glance told Duke Maurice how much his
escort pleased her. Malfalconnet had watched every look of the lady on
his arm, as well as the duke's, and as they approached the scene of the
dance he asked the latter if his Highness would condescend to relieve him
for a short time of a delightful duty. An important one in the service
of his imperial Majesty----
Here the duke's eager assent interrupted him, and the next moment Barbara
was leaning on the arm of the handsome young prince.
She had found in him the tool which she needed, and Maurice entered into
her design only too readily, for the baron had scarcely retired ere he
changed his tone of voice and began an attack upon her heart.
He had no need to respect the older rights of his imperial host, for
Charles had distrustfully concealed from him the bond which united him
to the beautiful singer. So, with glowing eloquence, he described to
Barbara how quickly and powerfully the spell of her beauty and her
wonderful art had fired his brain, and besought her to aid him not to
commence one of the most important periods of his life with a sore heart
and sick with longing; but she allowed him to speak, without interrupting
him by a single word.
She could not misunderstand what he desired, and many a glance permitted
him to interpret it in his favour; but resentment still continued to stir
in her soul, growing and deepening as the Emperor, seated on the throne
erected for him, without noticing her appearance, sometimes listened to
the chamberlain, who mentioned the names of the handsomest dancers,
sometimes addressed a question to the Bishop of Arras and the other
gentlemen who had followed him.
Her royal lover deprived her of even the possibility of rousing him by
jealousy from the consciousness of the secure possession of her person.
Besides, the flushed faces of the young men who had so shamelessly
insulted her were beaming before her with the joy of the festival.
But the expression of their features was already changing. Duke Maurice
had been recognised, and now all who felt entitled to do so approached
him, among them her foes, at their head Bernhard Trainer, who were
obliged to bend low before him, and therefore before her also.
Just then the city pipers struck up a gagliarde, and the music was the
air of the dancing-master's song by Baldassaro Donati, which had roused
the Emperor's indignation a few days ago. In imagination she again heard
his outburst of anger, again saw him rise from his seat in wrath at the
innocent "Chi la gagliarda vuol imparare."
The time of reckoning had come, and he should pay her for the bitterness
of that hour! Yonder malevolent fellows, who now looked bewildered and
uneasy, should be forced to retreat before her and perceive what power
she had obtained by her beauty and her art.
With fevered blood and panting breath she listened to the gay music of
the enlarged band of city pipers, and watched the movements of the
couples who had already commenced the gagliarde, and--how was it possible
in such a mood?--a passionate desire to dance took possession of her.
Without heeding the many persons who stood around them, she whispered
softly to the duke, "It would be a pleasure to keep time to the music of
the gagliarde with you, your Highness."
An ardent love glance accompanied this invitation, and the bold Saxon
duke was a man to avail himself of every advantage.