from his seat and walked up and down the room. Then he
came toward Baum, who felt as if the hour of judgment had come--as if
his life hung in the balance. He tried to loosen his cravat; it seemed
too tight for him. He almost felt as if a sword were passing through
him.

"Do you know what was in the letter to the queen?"

"No, Your Majesty."

"Was it sealed?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And have you nothing more?"

"Yes, Your Majesty; I was almost obliged to use violence to get this
from the maid; and here, Your Majesty, there is something more. Beside
the shoes, there was a pool of blood, and on this little plant there
are drops of her blood."

A heart-rending cry of pain escaped the king; then, taking the letter
and the plant with him, he went into the adjoining room.

Baum remained standing there waiting.

In the next room, the king sat reading, with tearful eyes.

"She loved me intensely. She was great and beautiful," said he to
himself, with pale and trembling lips. His mind was filled with
thoughts of her beauty, her voice, her gait, and all her varied charms.
And were they all now dead?

The king looked at his hand; the hand which she had so fondly kissed.
He took up the letter again and once more read the words: "To my
friend." He knew not how it came about, but when he again became
conscious of himself, he was kneeling by the chair.

What was to come next?

He remembered that the lackey was waiting in the cabinet. The king felt
deeply humbled at the thought of his being obliged to take such a
creature into his confidence; but had not men of all kinds long known
of his crime? They knew of it, but were silent. A thousand eyes were
upon him, a thousand lips were speaking--and all were telling this
terrible story. The king looked about him, bewildered. He could
scarcely rise. And among the many thousands who had laid their hands in
his, and who looked up to him, there was one--Ah! how heavily her hand
and her glance now weighed upon him. And her lips; what might they say?

How was he now to approach the queen? If she only knew his deep
contrition, she would fall weeping on his neck; for she was divine
goodness itself. And yet, how had he acted toward her!

He was on the point of sending Irma's last words to the queen. He meant
to add some words expressive of his contrition--to lay bare his
thoughts and feelings. It is best, thought he to himself, not to act
precipitately, and when he was again on his