"Dead! Was it grief at her father's death?"

The doctor nodded affirmatively.

The flower-table which Irma had painted stood by the queen's side. The queen looked at it for a long while. At last, completely forgetting those about her--her gaze still fixed upon the table which, now that she was weeping bitterly, was wet with her tears--she cried out, in heart-rending accents:

"Oh, how beautiful she was; how radiant her eyes, how bright her glance, how musical her voice! Her singing was like the warbling of the lark! And all this beauty, all this love and goodness is no more! I would love to see her, even in death. She must be beautiful, a very image of peace. And you say that she died of grief at her father's death; of a broken heart? Was it one great, convulsive throb of feeling that broke her ardent, n.o.ble heart? Oh, my sister--for I loved her as such--forgive me that even the shadow of doubt--Oh, my sister!--the lovely flowers on this table were conjured up by your hand--And you are faded, withered, decayed! You were lovelier than any flower! I can still see your eye, as it followed every stroke of the pencil. You meant to give me undying flowers, and as an undying flower you shall dwell in my heart."

Her tears fell on the marble flower-table. A little dog came up to her and she said:

"She decked you, too, with flowers. It was on my birthday. She sought to adorn everything that met her eye. And you loved her, too, poor Zephyr? every creature loved her, and now she's dead." She wept in silence for some time.

"May I wear mourning for my friend?" she inquired, looking up at Countess Brinkenstein.

"Your Majesty, it is not the custom for the queen to go into mourning alone."

"Of course; we are not alone. No, never! All must mourn with us; there must needs be a mourning livery."

She had spoken harshly, and now offered her hand to Countess Brinkenstein, as if in apology, and inquired:

"When is she to be buried, and where? I should like to lay the most beautiful garland upon her grave. I will go to her myself, and my tears shall drop upon her pale face. So fair a life, and so sudden an end!

Can it be possible? I must go to her!"

Her eyes seemed fixed on vacancy, while she asked:

"Has the king gone hunting?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"He, too, will weep, for he loved her as if she were his sister. I know it."

The look which Countess Brinkenstein now gave the doctor seemed to say: "I never gave the queen credit for so much tact and self-command. How naturally she acts, while trying to make us believe that she never knew or suspected that aught was wrong."

"I will go to her!" suddenly exclaimed the queen. "No one shall prevent it. I will go to her and stand by her coffin, by her grave."

Countess Brinkenstein stared at the queen.

The doctor approached and said:

"Your Majesty cannot see the countess. Grief for her father's death affected her mind--"

"Then she's not dead?"

"The countess has undoubtedly drowned herself in the lake."

The queen cast a look of horror at the doctor. She attempted to speak, but could not. Gunther added:

"She has not left us without a farewell; she left a letter, which I am to deliver to Your Majesty. It must surely be intended to atone for the frightful tidings; even in her last moments, she was true to her affectionate nature."

The queen stared at Gunther vacantly. She tried to rise, but could not.

She mutely motioned him to give her the letter. Gunther handed it to her.

The queen read it and turned pale as a corpse. Her features grew rigid; her hands fell to her side, as if palsied; her eyes closed, an expression as of death lay on her lips. Presently, she shook as if in a chill, and then her face became flushed, as if burning. She sprang to her feet and exclaimed:

"No! no! Have you done this? Could you act thus, Irma? You--"

She fell back in her chair, covered her face with both hands, and exclaimed:

"And she kissed my child, and he kissed it! Oh, they kissed that which was purest of all, well knowing how impure their own lips were. They talked in the loftiest strain, and yet the words did not cut their tongues like sharp knives! Oh, how disgusting! How disgusting, how tainted everything seems! How I loathe myself! And he dared to tell me that a prince could have no private actions, for his deeds are an example to others. Shame! shame! Everything is vile, everything is despicable! Everything!"

She looked around, bewildered. She was as terrible in her indignation as she had been beautiful in her grief.

With vacant gaze she regarded every object that had once met Irma's eye, and when her glance again fell upon the flower-table, she turned away with a convulsive start, as if serpents had darted from the flowers. Again she exclaimed:

"Oh, how loathsome! Oh, how vile, how disgusting! I beg of you, leave me alone! May I not be alone?"

"Let me remain with Your Majesty," said the Doctor, taking her hand, which hung as if lifeless at her side.

Countess Brinkenstein withdrew.

For a long while, the queen did not speak a word. She seemed to be staring at vacancy, breathed heavily and would, at times, start convulsively. She was suddenly seized with a chill, and fell back insensible.

The doctor bathed her forehead and wrists with a few drops of some restorative, and then called her maid. Accompanied by the latter, he conducted the queen to her apartments, and ordered that she should be put to bed.

"I shall never again see the light of day, nor a human face; and he--and he!" cried she; then she forced her lace handkerchief into her mouth and tore it to pieces with her teeth.

She lay thus for some time, the doctor sitting silently by her bedside.

At length she heaved a deep sigh, opened her eyes, and said:

"I thank you, but I would like to sleep."

"Yes, do so," said the doctor. He was about to leave, but she called to him:

"One word more. Does the king know--?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And he went to the hunt?"

"He is king, Your Majesty."

"I know, I know!--Anything to avoid creating a sensation. Yes, yes."

"I beg of you, Your Majesty, don't think now. Don't worry about anything. Try to sleep."

"We can give ourselves the sleep eternal, but not temporal sleep."

"I entreat you. Your Majesty; don't give way to this violent excitement; do try to sleep."