This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
By Georg Ebers
Everything in Barbara's residence had remained as it was when shearrived, only the second story, since the departure of the marquise, hadstood empty. Two horses had been left in the stable, the stewardperformed his duties as before, the cook presided in the kitchen, andFrau Lamperi attended to Barbara's rooms.
Nevertheless, at Wolf's first visit he was obliged to exert all hispowers of persuasion to induce his miserable friend to give up herresolution of moving into her former home. Besides, after theconversation with Charles's messenger, she had felt so ill that novisitor except himself had been received.
When, a few days later, she learned that the Emperor had set out forLandshut, she entreated Wolf to seek out Pyramus Kogel, for she had justlearned that during her illness her father's travelling companion hadasked to see her, but, like every one else, had been refused. Shegrieved because they had forgotten to tell her this; but when shediscovered that the same stately officer had called again soon after therelapse, she angrily upbraided, for the first time, Frau Lamperi, who wasto blame for the neglect, and her grief increased when, on the same day,a messenger brought from the man who had twice been denied admittance aletter which inclosed one from her father, and briefly informed her thathe should set out at once for Landshut. As she would not receive him,he must send her the captain's messages in this way.
It appeared from the old man's letter that, while leaving the ship atAntwerp, he had met with an accident, and perhaps might long be preventedfrom undertaking the toilsome journey home. But he was well cared for,and if she was still his clear daughter, she must treat Herr PyramusKogel kindly this time, for he had proved a faithful son and goodSamaritan to him.
A stranger's hand had written this letter, which contained nothing moreabout the old soldier's health, but reminded her of a tin tankard whichhe had forgotten to deliver, and urged her to care for the ever-burninglamp in the chapel. It closed with the request to offer his profoundreverence at the feet of his Majesty, the most gracious, most glorious,and most powerful Emperor, and the remark that there was much to sayabout the country of Spain, but the best was certainly when one thoughtof it after turning the back upon it.
As a postscript, he had written with his own hand, as the crooked lettersshowed: "Mind what I told you about Sir Pyramus, without whom you wouldnow be a deserted orphan. Can you believe that in all Spain there is nofresh butter to be had, either for bread or in the kitchen for roastmeat, but instead rancid oil, which we should think just fit forburning?"
With deep shame Barbara realized through this letter how rarely sheremembered her father. Only since she knew positively what joy and whatanxiety awaited her had she again thought frequently of him, but alwayswith great fear of the old man whose head had grown gray in an honourablelife. Now the hour was approaching when she would be obliged to confessto him what she still strove to deem a peerless favour of Fate, for whichfuture generations would envy her. Perhaps he who looked up to theEmperor Charles with such enthusiastic devotion would agree with her;perhaps what she must disclose to him would spoil the remainder of hislife. The image of the aged sufferer, lying in pain and sorrow far fromher old his home, in a stranger's house, constantly forced itself up