"The grandeur that dwells in this figure will show posterity what our days have beheld. I am proud of such contemporaries."

Irma felt that the words applied to her as well. Her heart throbbed.

The plaster of Paris which stood before her suddenly seemed to gaze at her with a strange expression.

"I should like to compare the finished work with the first models,"

said the king to the artist.

"I regret that the experimental models are in my small atelier. Does Your Majesty wish me to have them brought here?"

"If you will be good enough to do so."

The master left. The king and Irma were alone. With rapid steps, he mounted the ladder and exclaimed, in a tremulous voice:

"I ascend into heaven--I ascend to you. Irma, I kiss you, I kiss your image, and may this kiss forever rest upon those lips, enduring beyond all time. I kiss thee, with the kiss of eternity."

He stood aloft and kissed the lips of the statue. Irma could not help looking up, and, just at that moment, a slanting sunbeam fell on the king and on the face of the marble figure, making it glow as if with life.

Irma felt as if wrapped in a fiery cloud, bearing her away into eternity.

The king descended and placed himself beside her. His breathing was short and quick--she did not dare to look up--she stood as silent and as immovable as the statue. Then the king embraced her--she lay in his arms and living lips kissed each other.

When the artist returned, the king was alone. Irma crossed the street, on her way to the palace, as if dreaming. She felt herself borne on wings, and likened herself to Semele whom the ardent kisses of Jupiter had made immortal.

"The greatest happiness has been mine," said she to herself. "I can easily give up all else, for the kiss of eternity rests upon my lips."

The people and the houses seemed like so many shadowy forms, and she felt as if flying through the air above them.

It was not until she had gained her apartment and beheld her costume, that she was reminded of the ball that was to take place that very night. Her lips were wreathed in smiles, while her maid attired her in the full, cloudlike, white robe, trimmed with rushes set with diamonds.

"My lady promised the crown prince's nurse," said the maid, "that she should see her in her ball-dress. Shall I send for her now?"

Irma nodded a.s.sent. All that she heard seemed as if in a dream; all that she saw, as if in a cloud. She felt it a torture to be obliged to display herself to so many people. She wished to appear to him only. To him who was all the world to her.

Walpurga came, and gazed upon her like one entranced. There stood a maiden, so beautiful, so charming, so brilliantly and wonderfully encircled with reeds, and with diamond drops hanging from those reeds and from red coral branches. The girdle was a green serpent, with large glittering diamond eyes that sparkled so that it dazzled one's eyes to look at them. Her long hair was loosened, and fell down over her bare neck. It was held together at the top by a wreath of water-lilies glittering with dew-drops, and on her brow was a star which flashed and sparkled, while the face of the beautiful maiden was more radiant than all her jewels. Irma had never before looked so beautiful. She seemed so n.o.ble, so far away, as if smiling, from the clouds above, upon mortals below.

"Dear me! Why, you're the Lady of the Lake," exclaimed Walpurga.

"Ah! So you recognize me," said Irma, holding out her hand. Her voice sounded strangely.

Walpurga pressed her hand to her heart. She felt grieved that Irma should a.s.sume this character. It was defying G.o.d, and would end in evil. But Walpurga said nothing; she merely folded her hands and moved her lips in silent prayer for Irma.

"Dear me!" she exclaimed, after pa.s.sing her hand across her eyes, "dear me, how the people can fix themselves up. Where do they get everything from? How is it possible?" She walked round and round Irma.

"When I tell 'em at home, they'll never believe I've seen anything like this. The Lady of the Lake wears an undergarment of sea-foam and loose hair just like this. If only mother and Hansei were here."

Irma made no reply. She walked about the room, and when she saw herself reflected in the great mirrors her own figure seemed like a strange apparition, and the rustling of the reeds bewildered her.

"I would like to jump into the lake, just as I am, and quench the burning flames," thought she to herself.

Walpurga seemed dazzled by so much splendor, and returned to her apartments.

"I can easily imagine," she said to herself, "that the people here don't understand the world, and that the queen herself doesn't understand it, either. They make a new world every day, and turn everything upside down and inside out, and disguise and mask themselves. How are they ever to get rest and keep their senses? The queen's right; it's better that I should go home again. I'd go crazy here."

When Walpurga reached her room, she found a letter from home awaiting her. She had been joyfully looking forward to this letter for weeks.

She had fancied how delighted her mother and Hansei would be, and how the villagers would come and admire their new clothes, and express their astonishment. She had placed a cheerful letter in the breast-pocket of Hansei's jacket, and this was the answer. Stasi had written it, but the mother had dictated every word. It read thus:

"Oh, child, I'm sure you meant well enough, but it didn't turn out well. I and Hansei wore the beautiful clothes when we went to church on New Year's day. I didn't want to; I felt sure something would happen; but Hansei said we must put them on, for the king would think ill of it, if we didn't wear the clothes he sent us, and so, for peace's sake, I went to church with him. But the people kept looking at us so strangely, and didn't say a word; and after church, they were standing together in crowds and we could hear them say, while they pointed their fingers at us: 'It's all very fine. Such things can be got at the capital, but every one knows how; not in an honest way, that's certain.

The old fool and that blockhead there are proud of it in the bargain, and show off their new clothes.' Old Zenza was worse than any of them, and people who never listen to her at other times, were quite willing to hear all she had to say, and urged her to go on.

"Oh, my dear child! you don't know how bad people can be. I know that you're good, but some people are bad and begrudge one everything, and what they can't take from you they befoul. You meant well enough, I'm sure, but I won't even venture out of the house in my own clothes now.

The people are so envious, so cunning and so willing to speak evil. As long as you're poor you know nothing of it, but now I see it. And, dear child, that's not the worst of it. The worst of all is that they want to fill one's heart with mistrust, but I have none toward you; I know you're good. Remain so, and bear in mind, that if your heart is troubled you can't find rest, though you sleep in a golden bed and on pillows of silk. It were far better to lie on thorns, or in the grave.

The innkeeper came and offered to buy the clothes for himself and his wife, but I won't let him have them. And now, dear child, keep honest, and don't touch a thread or a penny to which any evil clings. I know you wouldn't do it, but I can't help telling you; and don't take it so much to heart that people are so bad, and I shan't either."

Walpurga cried bitterly while she read the letter. "The peasants are the worst people in the world," thought she. "Of course, there are bad people among the court folk, but they're not that bad. Just let one of 'em come again and ask for pardon. I'll send them home again." She felt like asking the king to have a sound thrashing administered to every one of the villagers. She only wished that the king's power could be hers for one short hour, so that she might show these silly, infamous people who really was their master.

CHAPTER VIII.

Walpurga was sitting in her room, weeping with anger. Now and then she would clench her fists and speak her mind to the folks at home, in such a manner that they would have trembled with fear, if they could only have heard her.

But she soon regained her self-control and repressed all emotion, lest the excitement occasioned by the wicked folk at home should injuriously affect the child.

Meanwhile, there were sounds of music far away in the brightly illuminated and elegant apartments of the palace, and also in the winter garden. There were thousands of lights, a perfect sea of velvets and silks, pearls and diamonds, flowers and wreaths, and smiling, joyous faces; but the king outshone them all.

He knew that he was handsome, and took an almost childlike delight in the fact. He was always in a good humor when attired in becoming uniform. At the great _fetes_ which were given on the various regimental anniversaries, he always wore the uniform of the regiment thus honored. He was best pleased with himself, when in the dress of the hussars, for that displayed his fine figure to great advantage. On this occasion, he appeared in the fantastic costume of the mythic king Artus, in a golden coat of mail and flowing purple mantle. At his side, was the queen, refined and delicate as a lily, and wearing a light, flowing white veil.

The king observed the pleased expression of all who beheld him. He was happy, for he knew that their admiration was not flattery. When Irma first saw him and made her obeisance to the royal couple, it required all her self-command, to refrain from sinking on her knees at his feet.

Then she looked up into his face, with a happy, beseeching air.

She could scarce refrain from expressing her admiration and devotion.

The queen greeted her cordially, and said:

"I am sorry, Irma, that you can't see yourself; you're enough to make one believe in miracles."

The king said nothing, but Irma felt his glance resting upon her. She could not conceive how it was that his glances and the queen's words did not destroy her. With an effort to regain her composure, she said:

"Ah, Your Majesty, I find my costume oppressive. A spirit should stay but a minute and then vanish in a burst of flame."

"There is a minute which is as eternity."

Irma had, indeed, felt a conscious pride in her beautiful appearance, but now she experienced a higher joy. He who was so tall and handsome, a knight more perfect than fancy could devise, could give the kiss of eternity; for he alone, was the highest embodiment of the idea of royalty.

Irma scarcely noticed what was going on about her.