ounts with
each other, as if to say: 'You are worth so much and I am worth so
much; this is yours and this is mine--'"

"Ah, these state affairs," interposed the king, as a lackey announced
the arrival of the minister. "We will speak of this subject again," he
added, taking leave of Irma and politely greeting the ladies and
gentlemen whom he passed on his way. He offered his hand to his prime
minister and, accompanied by him, went into the palace.

Irma's friendly relations with the king seemed to have acquired new
life since her return. Her daily greeting seemed filled with the joy of
meeting after long separation.

When the king would say: "Good morning, Countess," and Irma would
answer: "Thanks, Your Majesty," there lay a wealth of unuttered thought
in those simple words. The king had never before been in so pleasing
and witty a mood, and Irma, it was justly said, had brought the
mountain breezes with her. The queen would never tire of telling the
ladies and gentlemen of the court how pleased she was with Irma, who,
although simple and unaffected, possessed the highest intellectual
gifts.

Like melodies that have sunk deep into the soul and which gradually
return and harmoniously blend, so did her father's words and ideas now
recur to Irma. She had spent weeks in a strict school, where idle talk
and trifling were of no value and where distinctness and certainty were
insisted upon. Formerly, Irma had been regarded as a child of nature,
freely pouring forth whatever engaged her thoughts; but now they
recognized in her a mind whose groundwork was solid and comprehensive,
and which, nevertheless, was full of the simplicity of nature. She was
full of sympathy and kindness, but did not concern herself about
prevailing modes of thought. She freely expressed her likes and
dislikes, and one was obliged to admit that she was something more than
a mere original or artless hoyden, and that she really possessed
intellectual self-consciousness to a great degree.

Irma often changed her style of dressing her hair. This was naturally
censured as coquetry, and as an attempt to draw the glances of all upon
her. But it was simply a desire to appear different every day, even
though it were in unimportant and subordinate matters.

It was very fortunate for Irma that she had become so attached to
Walpurga; for, on sunny afternoons, the queen would scarcely ever
suffer Walpurga to leave her; and then Irma would be seated with them