he paths were neatly kept. The flowers were sparkling with the dews of
morning; birds were singing and the air was laden with the fragrant
perfume of the new-mown grass. Swans, and rare varieties of ducks from
foreign lands, were swimming in the large lake, on the banks of which
the bright-hued flamingo might also have been seen. The fountain in the
center of the lake sent its waters to such a height that they were lost
in spray.

A clear mountain brook, running between alders and weeping-willows, and
under many a rustic bridge, emptied into the lake, flowing thence
through the valley until it reached the river, bright glimpses of which
might here and there be caught through openings in the shrubbery.

Tables, chairs and benches of graceful form had been placed under the
trees and at various points that commanded a fine prospect.

Seated near the chapel there was a man of impressive appearance. His
dress betokened scrupulous care. His thick hair was as white as his
cravat. His eyes were blue and sparkling, and full of youthful fire. He
looked out upon the broad landscape, the valley crowded with fruit-trees,
the near-lying hills, and the mountain beyond, whose lines stood
out in bold relief against the blue sky above. He had a book in his
hand, but now laid it aside and drank in the peaceful influences of the
scene before him.

The great door of the chapel was open: the mighty sounds of the organ
were heard; a soft cloud of incense floated out on the morning air and
then vanished into space.

This impressive-looking man was the king's physician, Doctor Gunther,
who, being a Protestant, had not attended mass.

Just then, a beautiful woman, carrying an open sunshade, stepped out
from the veranda which was almost concealed by trellised vines. She
wore a full, white robe, and her headdress was a simple morning cap
with blue ribbons. Her bright, rosy face beamed with youth and beauty;
her hair was of a golden hue and she seemed the very incarnation of
glorious day.

The doctor, hearing the rustling of her dress, had at once advanced and
made his obeisance.

"Good-morning, doctor!" said the lady, whose two female companions had
kept a few steps to the rear. Her voice was not clear and bright, but
suggestive of the soulful violoncello-tone which is more properly the
vehicle of intense and fervent feeling, than of loud-voiced joy.

"What a charming day!" continued the lady; "and yet, for that very
reason, doubly sad