friend,--For the last time I speak to you. We have gone
astray--terribly. The atonement is mine. You belong to her and to the
people. Your atonement is in life; mine in death. Be calm, be one with
the law that ties you to her and to the people. You have denied both and
I have aided you. Be true again to yourself! This is my dying word, and
I die willingly, if you but listen. Listen to this voice, and do not
forget it! But forget her who speaks to you. I will not be remembered."

She sealed the letters, left them in her writing-case, and asked for her
horse to be saddled. She rode out, followed by a groom, whom, some
distance from home, she sent back on some pretext. When he was out of
sight, she galloped off at full speed, dismounted, struck her horse with
the whip to make it run away, and lost herself in the wood in the
direction of the lake.

_V.--A Court Scandal_

Irma's torn boots were found on a rock by the lake, her hat floating on
the waters. Although her body could not be recovered, there was no doubt
that the countess had committed suicide. Her father's death must have
bereft her of reason.

When the news was first brought to the king he trembled violently, and
had to seize the back of a chair for support. Then he requested to be
left alone, and with dim eyes he read Irma's farewell message. On the
impulse of the moment, he wanted to send the queen the last words of his
friend; he wanted to write under them, to pour out his whole heart, his
whole repentance. He decided not to act hastily. Even the heaviest task
must be fulfilled without loss of dignity. A chase had been arranged for
the morning. The hunting-party were waiting in the courtyard. With an
effort he pulled himself together, descended with firm step, and entered
his carriage, returning smilingly the salutations of his guests.

The queen was scarcely less shaken by the terrible news, which was
gently broken to her by Dr. Gunther. Her heart was filled with profound
pity for the unfortunate child, and she gave vent to her grief in sobs
and touching lamentations. Dr. Gunther tried to comfort her. "She is not
gone without farewell. She has left this letter for your majesty--surely
a letter that will bring balm in this terrible hour. Even to the last
she proved her loving nature."

The queen seized the letter, read it, and turned deathly pale, then
burning red. When she found words, she exclaimed: "And she has kissed my
child, and he has kissed h