hat
makes for beauty and the common weal.

As a singer, Madame Gunther had been a great favorite, both in social
circles and at important vocal performances. Her voice was a full,
resonant soprano and, although she had given up singing solos, she and
her daughters would still take part when great musical works were
performed. When fresher voices had taken the solo parts, she had,
without a murmur of regret, retired to her place in the chorus.

And thus, too, was her life. Self-reliant and diligent at home, she
took an active interest in all public institutions in which women were
permitted to take part. She had preserved one priceless heirloom--she
was free from nervousness and, with her, public spirit was a duty. She
educated her children, managed her household, was a kind and attentive
hostess, and performed all this as if obeying the simple instincts of
her nature.

She honored her husband. Whatever he said was always of special weight,
but still she held fast to her own judgment. Although she had been
living in the capital for nearly twenty years, she had remained a
stranger to the whole of the hodge-podge system of caste and the
granting of favors by the grace of this or that one. She was not
opposed to the system, but she left such matters to those in whose eyes
they possessed value and importance; as for herself, she regarded them
with absolute indifference.

She was pleased at the honors shown her husband, but that seemed, to
her, a matter of course. He was a great man, and if the world had
withheld its praise, he would, in her eyes, still have been the
greatest and best of men. Her whole bearing expressed this feeling. She
had never had the slightest desire to appear at court, and when her
husband was obliged to be away from home by day or at night, and often
for weeks at a time, she accepted his absence as unavoidably incident
to his calling, and refrained from adding to his discomfort by
complaining thereat.

When the doctor returned, it was always to a well-ordered home.
Refreshed and invigorated by its influence, he would go back to the
smooth and slippery precincts of the court.

Irma was now introduced to this home. In appearance, she was all beauty
and dignity, and no one would have guessed how forlorn and homeless she
felt within her heart. In her hand, she held the bouquet which had, as
usual, been sent to her that day, by the king's orders. Gunther had
told her that this was his daughter Paula