t into the noble mind and firm character of her
father. In his many soothing talks Count Eberhard told her of his
regrets at having been forced by circumstances--her mother's death
before Irma had reached the age of three, and his inability to give her
a proper education in his mountain retreat--to send her first to her
aunt, then to the convent, and thus neglecting his duties as father. A
word from him would have decided her to remain under his roof, but the
old philosopher held that each intelligent being must work out its own
destiny, and would not influence her decision. His slighting remarks
about the monarchic system, about the impossibility of the king, with
all his noble intentions, being able to see the world as it is, since
everybody approaches him in pleasing costume, struck the final jarring
note and destroyed the complete understanding between father and
daughter. A half jocular joint letter from the king and his _entourage_,
in which the signatories expressed in exaggerated terms their longing
for her presence at court, decided her to return.

The carriage having been sent to the valley in advance, Count Eberhard
walked down with Irma, until they came to the apple-tree which he had
planted on the day of his daughter's birth. He stopped, and picked up a
fallen apple. "Let us part here," he said. "Take this fruit from your
native soil. The apple has left the tree because it has ripened; because
the tree cannot give any more to it. So man leaves home and family. But
man is more than the fruit of a tree. Come, my child, I hold your dear
head; don't weep--or weep! May you never weep for yourself, and only for
others! Remain faithful to yourself! I would give you all my thoughts;
remember but the one: Yield only to such pleasures as will be pleasure
in recollection. Take this kiss. You kiss passionately. May you never
give a kiss that does not leave your soul as pure and full as it is now.
Farewell!"

_III.--Walpurga Returns Home_

Twelve months had passed since Walpurga's arrival at court. Her trunks
were now packed; she had given a last kiss to the boy prince; and now
she asked her Hansei, who had brought a carriage from the village to
take her home, to wait in the corridor while she took leave from
Countess Irma. She found Irma still in her bed, very pale, with her hair
in loose strains on the pillow.

"I wanted to give you a souvenir," said Irma, "but I think money will be
best for you. Look on the t