Part 88 (2/2)

”My dear child,” said Madame Gunther, placing her hand upon Irma's arm.

Irma started--”there are many of G.o.d's creatures on earth, so that the sympathy of those whom misfortune has spared may serve as a support to the afflicted, and as a light in the hour of darkness. I beg of you, do not be proud in your grief. Let me share in all that the next few days may have in store for you.”

”Proud? proud?” asked Irma, suddenly grasping Madame Gunther's hand and as suddenly dropping it again. ”No, dear honored madame. I appreciate your affectionate motives. I understand--I know--all. I could calmly accept your kindness. I know--at least I think--that I, too, would have just acted as you do, if--”

”This is the best and the only thanks,” interposed Madame Gunther, but Irma motioned her to stop, and continued:

”I entreat you, do not torture me. Your husband and my brother will accompany me. I beg of you, say nothing more. I thank you; I shall never forget your kindness.”

Gunther entered the room again and Irma said:

”Is everything ready? We have no time to lose.”

She bowed to Madame Gunther, and would gladly have embraced her, but could not.

Madame Gunther, who had never, before this, set foot in the palace, had only come to succor a ruined one. Never had the thought of herself so filled Irma with anguish and remorse, as when this embodiment of loving-kindness had held out her hand to her.

The thought that she no longer dared approach the pure pained her as if demons were tearing her to pieces. Her first impulse was to throw herself at Madame Gunther's feet.

She controlled herself, however, and, looking at her with a fixed gaze, pa.s.sed on.

The parrot in the anteroom spread out its wings, as if it, too, wanted to go along, and screamed; ”G.o.d keep you, Irma!”

As if veiled in a cloud, Irma walked through the corridor. At the palace gate, she met the king coming out of the park with Schnabelsdorf, who had a number of dispatches in his hand, and whose cheerful looks were owing to the news of victory which he had just received.

To Irma, the king and Schnabelsdorf seemed like misty forms. She wore a double black veil, for she did not care to gratify the idle curiosity of the court, by making a show of the face on which grief had done its work.

The king drew near. She could not remove her veil. He seemed far, far away. She heard his friendly and, of course, kind words, but she knew not what he said.

The king extended his hand to Gunther, then to Bruno, and, at last, to Irma. He pressed her hand tenderly, but she did not return the pressure.

They got into the carriage. Just as they were about to start, Irma, noticing Madame Gunther's hand on the carriage door, bent down and kissed it. The next moment they were gone.

They were silent for some time. After they had pa.s.sed the first village, Bruno took out a cigar, saying to Irma, who sat opposite him: ”I'm a man, and a man must calmly accept the inevitable. Show that you, too, have a strong mind.”

Irma did not reply. She threw back her veil and looked out of the window. Her departure had been so hurried that she was just beginning to recover herself.

”You ought to have taken leave of the queen in person,” said Bruno, in a calm tone. The long silence was irksome to him. Such dark hours should be made to pa.s.s as agreeably as possible. When he found that Irma still remained silent, he added: ”For you know that the queen's tender nature is so easily offended.”

Irma still made no reply, but Gunther said:

”Yes; it were sacrilege to offend the queen. No one but a savage would dare to weaken her faith in human goodness and veracity.”

Gunther expressed himself with unwonted energy, and his words cut Irma to the heart. Was it she who had committed sacrilege? And then the thought gradually dawned upon her; the queen is his ideal; the king is mine. Who knows whether the mask of intellectual affinity may not have served to screen--Quick as thought, she dropped her veil; her breathing was short and fast; her cheeks were burning. He who knows himself to be--must judge others--nothing is perfect--no one--She felt as if she must speak, and at last said: ”The queen deserves to have a friend like you.”

”I place myself beside you,” said Gunther calmly. ”I believe that we both deserve the friends.h.i.+p of that pure heart.”

”And so you believe that friends.h.i.+p can exist between married people of different s.e.x?” inquired Bruno.

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