hought this
out so, a contentment that he had discovered something beautiful in
life: a beautiful secret. Everybody knew it perhaps, but nobody let it
be perceived. Oh yes, people were good; the world was good, in its
essence! Only a strange mystery compelled it to seem different, a
strange tyranny of the universal order of things.

He glanced around the long table. Every face wore a look of kindness and
sympathy. He was attached to his uncle so calm, gentle and strong, with
the seeming dogged silence of his Norse character, with his tranquil
smile and now and then a little gleam of fun, aimed especially at the
old aunts, but also at the children and even at the equerries, the
ladies-in-waiting. He knew that his uncle was a thinker, a philosopher;
he would have liked to have a long discussion with him on points of
philosophy. He was fond also of his aunt, a first-rate queen: what a lot
she did for her country, what a number of charities she called into
existence; a first-rate mother: how sensibly she performed her difficult
task, the bringing up of royal children! She was more beloved in her
country than was his mother, whom yet he adored, in hers; she had more
tact, less fear, less haughtiness also towards the crowd. It should
perhaps have been the other way about: his mother queen here, her sister
empress yonder....

And the crown-prince, with his simple manliness; Herman, with his
joviality; the younger brothers, with their vigorous, boyish chaff: how
fond he was of them! Sofie, Wanda, the children: how he liked them all!
He even liked the aunts and the devoted old mistress of the household.
Oh, the world was good, people were good! And Valerie was not
indifferent, but suffered in quiet silence, as a princess of the blood
must suffer, with unclouded eyes and a smile!

After dinner Queen Olga took Othomar's arm:

"Come with me for a moment," she said.

The rain had ceased; a footman opened the French windows. Behind the
dining-room lay a long terrace looking upon the woods. The queen put her
arm in Othomar's and began to walk up and down with him:

"And so you are going to leave us?" she asked.

He looked at her with a smile:

"You know I am, aunt; with much regret. I shall often long for
Altseeborgen, for all of you. I feel so much at home in your circle. But
yet I am anxious to see mamma again: it's nearly four months since I saw
her last."

"And are you feeling better?"

"How could I but feel better, a