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.