Part 33 (1/2)
Irma sang it again, but this time her mind was more at ease. The queen thanked her heartily. ”The doctor has unfortunately forbidden my conversing for any length of time, even with those who are dear to me.
I am delighted to think that we shall soon go to the summer palace.
Then we will spend much of our time together and with the child. Adieu!
dear Countess, write soon, and sing your lovely soul into the child's heart.”
Irma went away. While pa.s.sing through the long corridors, she stopped several times, as if to remember where she was. At last she reached her room, and gave orders that her horse be saddled at once and that a groom be in waiting.
Irma had just changed her dress when a servant brought her a letter.
She broke the seal with a trembling hand and read:
”_My child_: You have now been at court for eighteen months. I have left you free and uncontrolled. There are many things which I would like to say to you, but cannot write. Writing estranges. Your rooms are ready, and flowers await you. It is now lovely summer and apples on your tree are getting ruddy cheeks like your own, and I should like to see yours again. Come to
”YOUR FATHER.”
Irma threw up her hands. ”This is deliverance! Yes, I still have a home, and there is still a heart against which I can rest my head. I am coming, father! I am coming!”
Her brain whirled with excitement. She rang for her servant and sent word to the groom that she would not ride out. Then, after having ordered the waiting-maid to pack up enough clothes for several weeks, as quickly as possible she presented herself before the queen and asked for leave of absence.
”I am sorry that you, too, leave me,” said the queen, ”but I shall gladly part with you if it only helps, as I hope it will, to make you happy. Do all that lies in your power to be in full accord with your father. Believe me, Irma, in the various relations of life, be it as wife or as mother, one is sensible of a constant desire to grow and expand with each succeeding day; the child alone is perfectly satisfied with itself.”
The queen and Irma were not in accord that day. Irma was restless and anxious to depart. Whatever detained her, though it were only for a second, excited her resentment.
What the queen was saying might have been interesting to one who was not in a hurry, but not to her whose foot was already on the carriage step.
The parting was, nevertheless, an affecting one, the queen kissing Irma.
All that now remained was to ask Countess Brinkenstein's formal a.s.sent That, too, was obtained.
She had not yet said farewell to Doctor Gunther and his family. She wished to say good-by through Colonel Bronnen, or Baron Schoning, who had told her that he often visited the doctor's house. It was also necessary to take leave of these men and her companions at court. Now that she was about to go, she found out how many acquaintances she had.
But where are they when you need them? They are here, simply that you may not need them. Such is the world; but stop! There's one to whom, of all others, you must say farewell. She hurried off to Walpurga.
”Walpurga,” she exclaimed, ”when you get up tomorrow, shout as loud as you can. By that time, I'll be at our mountain home, and I'll shout back to you until the whole world rings with laughter. I'm going to my father.”
”I'm glad of it.”
”And aren't you sorry to see me go?”
”Of course; but if your father's still alive you oughtn't miss looking into the eyes that are only once in the world for you. I'm glad, for your father's sake, that he's able to look on such a child as you are.
Oh! if my Burgei were only as tall.”
”Walpurga, I'll also go to see your husband, your child and your mother. I'll sit down at your table and remember you to your cow and your dog. I shall; depend upon it.”
”Oh! how happy they'll be! If Hansei's only at home and not in the woods.”
”If he is, I'll have them send for him; and now farewell! don't forget me!”