Barbara Blomberg — Complete by Georg Ebers (phonics reading books .TXT) 📕

pace while the lanterns on the lindens and poles, the torches, and pitch pans were lighted.

Had not the gentlemen and ladies been so completely separated, it might perhaps have been a little gay. But, as it was, no one of the aristocratic women who surrounded her granted her even one poor word; but the number of glances, open and secret, cast at her became all the greater as one noble dame whispered to another that she was the singer whom his Majesty condescended to distinguish in so remarkable a manner.

To know that she was thus watched might be endured, as she was aware that she could be satisfied with her appearance, but vanity compelled her to assume an expression and bearing which would not disappoint the gazers, and after the performances began this imposed a wearisome restraint.

Once only was her solitude in the midst of this great company pleasantly interrupted, for the Bishop of Arras, without troubling himself about the separation of the sexes, had sought her out and whispered that he had something to ask of her, whose details they would discuss later. On the evening of the day after to-morrow his Majesty’s most distinguished guests, with their ladies, were to assemble at his house. If she desired to place him under the deepest obligations, she would join them there and adorn the festival with her singing. Barbara asked in a low tone whether the Emperor would also be present, and the statesman, smiling, answered that court etiquette prohibited such things. Yet it was not impossible that, as a special favour, his Majesty might listen for a short time in the festal hall, only he feared that the gout might interpose—the evil guest was already giving slight warnings of its approach.

Then, without waiting for a reply, the young minister went back to his royal master; but his invitation exerted a disturbing influence upon Barbara. She would have been more than glad to accept, for the entertainments of the Bishop of Arras were unequalled in varied attractions, magnificence, and gaiety, and what a satisfaction to her ambition it would be to sing before such an audience, dine at the same table with such ladies and gentlemen! She knew also how heavily this man’s favour would weigh in the scales with the Emperor, yet to appear at the banquet without her lover’s knowledge was utterly impossible, and just now she felt reluctant to ask his permission. What heavy chains loaded the favoured woman who possessed the love of this greatest of sovereigns!

However, reflections concerning Granvelle’s invitation passed away the time until the lighting of the Lindenplatz was completed. Then the shrill blare of trumpets again rent the air, the city pipers in the towers struck up a gay march, and the entertainment began.

The gods of Olympus, led by Fame and Fortune, offered their homage to the 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