e
maidens, from their domestic duties, were enjoying themselves in
common.

"One thing yet remains mine and it is the best," exclaimed Irma,
suddenly rising: "solitude is mine. I can yet be lonely, strong,
self-contained."

Her waiting-maid entered and announced a lackey sent by the queen.

"Does the queen want to see me at once?"

"Yes, gracious Countess."

"Very well, I'll be there directly."

"Walpurga was right, after all," said she to herself; "I, too, serve."

She felt vexed while she stood before the mirror to have her dress
adjusted. She assumed a cheerful expression with which to appear before
the queen. She was obliged to do so.

She hastened to obey the queen's orders. When she got near the door,
she drew herself up and again fixed her features in the cheerful,
smiling expression that she wished them to have, and then entered the
room, which, as usual, was dimly lighted.

The queen was sitting in a large arm-chair. She was clad in a dress of
snowy white, and a lace handkerchief had been twined about her golden
hair.

"Come nearer, dear Countess," said the queen. "I am delighted to see
you again. When I see my dear friends, it seems as if I'd been spending
the last few weeks in another world. Unfortunately, I am somewhat
indisposed again. I owe you special thanks, for I understand that
you've kindly interested yourself in the nurse; by keeping her
cheerful, you do the prince a service. The king quite agrees with me
that you're a real treasure to us. I shall write as much to your father
and tell him how happy we are to have you with us. That will surely put
him in a better humor with you."

Irma was glad that the queen had so much to say, for she was thus
enabled to recover her composure.

"Pray give me the letter that lies on the table," said the queen.

Irma brought it and the queen added:

"Just read these lines of the king's."

Irma read: "Pray tell Countess Irma to keep me constantly informed as
to the condition of our son. Remember me to the dear fourth petal of
our clover-leaf."

Irma returned the letter with thanks. She felt deeply humiliated to
think that the king was trying to force her to write, and at the method
he had chosen. Walpurga was right when she spoke of love-glances at the
cradle.

Irma almost fainted with grief and shame.

"Won't you do us the favor to write, dear Countess?"

Irma bowed deeply, and the queen continued:

"Of course there will be very little to w