"My equal in birth? So you, too, are an aristocrat?"
The doctor explained that equality of rights could be conceded without doing away with social distinctions.
"Whenever I leave you," said Irma, her face radiant with enthusiasm-"whenever I've been under the influence of your thoughts, all that I do or attempt seems petty and trifling. At such moments, I feel just as I do after listening to glorious music, and long to accomplish something out of the usual way. I wish I were gifted with artistic talent."
"Content yourself with being one of nature's loveliest works. That's the best thing to do."
The doctor was called away.
Irma remained seated for some time, and at last repaired to her room, where she amused herself with her parrot. Then, after looking at her flowers for a while, she began to copy them in colors on a slab of marble. She evidently intended it to be a rare work. But for whom? She knew not. A tear fell on a rose, the color in which was still wet. She looked up and left her work. Then she dried the tear, and found herself obliged to paint the rose anew.
On the day before the christening, Walpurga dictated the following letter to Countess Irma:
"To-morrow will be Sunday, and I'll try to be with you, too. In thought, I'm always there. It seems as if it were seven years since I left home. The day's ever so long here, and there are more than three times as many people in the palace as could get into our church. There are lots of married servants here who have servants of their own; there are none but tall, fine-looking men in service here. Mademoiselle Kramer tells me that their lordships don't care to have any but handsome people about them; and some of them are as prim and proper as a parson. They call them lackeys, and whenever the king goes near one of them, they bow very low and double up with a snap, just like a pocket-knife. Oh, what lots of good things I have! If I could only send you some of them. I'm ever so glad that we shall go to the country palace in four weeks and stay there till autumn. But how's my child, and how goes it with Hansei and with mother, and you too, Stasi? In my sleep at night, I'm always with you. I can't sleep much, for my prince is a real night-watchman, and the king's doctor said I mustn't let him cry as much as Burgei does at home. But he has good lungs, and to-morrow is the christening. The queen's brother and his wife are to be godfather and godmother, and there'll be lots of princes and princesses besides. And I've got beautiful new dresses and two green hats with gold lace, and two silver chains for my stomacher, and I can take them all home with me when I go, but that won't be for a long while. If all the weeks are as long as last week, I'll be seven hundred years old when I get home. I'm quite lively again. But, at first, it seemed as if I could always hear the lowing of the cow in the stable.
"She who writes this is the Countess Wildenort, from over beyond the Chamois Hill; she's a very good friend of mine. She knew our dear father, too, and you, mother, know of her family.
"And I've something to tell you, Hansei. Don't have too much to do with the innkeeper; he's a rogue, and he'll talk your money out of your pocket. There are good folks and bad everywhere; at home with us and here too; and the king's doctor says you mustn't give the cow any green fodder, nothing but hay, or else the milk won't agree with the child.
"I'm learning to write. Indeed I'm learning a great many things here.
"And tell me what the people say about my leaving home so suddenly, and about my having left at all.
"But I don't care what they say. I know I've done my duty by my child; my husband, and my mother.
"And, dear mother, take a servant-girl into the house; we can afford it now.
"And, Hansei, don't let the innkeeper wheedle you out of your money. Put it out safely at mortgage, till we have enough to buy a few acres of land.
"And don't forget, Wednesday's the day on which father died; have a mass said for him.
"We've got a church in the house here, and I hear the organ every morning, while I stand in the passage. Tomorrow will be a great day, and I remain your ever faithful
"I send you a little cap for my child; let her wear it every Sunday. A thousand greetings to all of you, from your
CHAPTER XVI
"Oh how lovely! How beautiful! – And is it all mine? – And is it you, Walpurga, of the cottage by the lake? – How proud she'll be!"
Such were Walpurga's extravagant expressions of delight, while she stood looking at herself in the full-length mirror. Mademoiselle Kramer was indeed obliged to hold her back, lest she should rush through the glass in her eager desire to embrace the figure she saw reflected in it.
The court tailor had sent home the new clothes. It was difficult to decide which was the most beautiful-the stomacher, the skirt, the collar, the shirt with the short, wide sleeves-but no! the narrow-rimmed hat, trimmed with flowers and gold lace and with gold tassels, was the most beautiful of all. It fitted perfectly, and was as light as a feather. "There, I'll just move it a little to the left. Gracious me! – Well, you are beautiful! The folks are right!" She placed her arms akimbo and danced about the room, like one possessed. And then, placing herself before the mirror, she stared into it, silently, as if lost in contemplation of her own image.
Ah, that mirror! Walpurga had never before seen her full figure, from head to foot. What could she see in the twopenny looking-glass at home? Nothing but the face and a little of the neck!
She lifted her hand to her throat. It was encircled by a necklace composed of seven rows of garnets and fastened in front with an agraffe. And how clever Mademoiselle Kramer was! How many things she could do!
She had placed a large mirror behind Walpurga, who could now see how she looked in the back, and on all sides. Oh, how clever these people are! What do they know out our way? Nothing of the world, and less about themselves!
"And this is how Walpurga looks to those who walk behind her? And so," turning herself on one side, "and so," turning again on the other. "I must say, I like your looks; you're not out of the way, at all! So that's Hansei's wife? He ought to feel satisfied with her; but then, he's good and true and has well deserved her."
Giddy with excitement, Walpurga thus talked to herself; it was the first time that she had ever seen a full length reflection of herself.
The first stranger who saw her thus was Baum.
He always wore shoes without heels and, putting down his whole foot at once, managed to step so softly that you could never know when he was coming. He always approached with a modest air, as if fearful of disturbing you, but always kept his own counsel and was an available tool, no matter what the nature of the service might be.
"Oh! how pretty!" he exclaimed, staring at her as if quite lost with admiration.
"It's nothing to you, sirrah, at any rate," said Walpurga; "you're a married man and I'm a married woman."
Assuming an air of command, and acting as if these were the first words uttered since he entered the apartment, Baum went on to say:
"It's the lord steward's pleasure that the nurse shall come to the court chapel immediately, if His Royal Highness the crown prince, is asleep. The rehearsal is about to begin."
"I've tried my clothes on," answered Walpurga.
Baum told her that it had nothing to do with trying on clothes, but that, excepting the highest personages, all who were to take part in the grand ceremonies of the morrow, were now to rehearse the order of the procession, so that there might be no confusion.
Walpurga went with Baum.
The ladies and gentlemen of the court were assembled in the throne-room. Most of them were eagerly engaged in conversation, and the confused sound of many voices was strangely echoed back from the high, vaulted ceiling. When Walpurga entered, she could hear them whispering on all sides. Some spoke French, but others used plain German, to say that the nurse was a fine specimen of a Highland peasant woman. Walpurga had a smile for every one, and was quite unembarrassed.
The