known Countess Irma?"

"From childhood. She was the friend of my cousin Emma, with whom she
was at the convent."

"It comforts me to be able to speak to you of our friend. You
understood her character. It was great, almost supernaturally so.
Suffer me to inherit your friendship for her."

"Your Majesty--" replied Bronnen with constrained composure; for his
heart was boiling with indignation at the man who had corrupted this
noble creature and had driven her to self-destruction. But his military
feeling of respect for his superiors held him in check.

"Ah, dearest Bronnen!" continued the king, "no death has ever affected
me so. Did she ever speak to you of death? She hated it. And yet, when
I look about me, all is life. When a great heart ceases to beat, the
whole world should pause, though it were but for a moment. What are we,
after all?"

"Each of us is but a small, limited portion of the world. Everything
about us has its due sphere of development and right. We are masters
only of ourselves, and how few of us can claim to be even that!"

The king looked at Bronnen in surprise. Every one has a sphere of
right--What could he have meant by it? Hastily collecting himself, the
king replied: "She might have used the very same words. I can easily
imagine how much you sympathized with each other. If I understand
rightly, you regard suicide as the greatest of crimes?"

"If that which is most unnatural is, therefore, the greatest crime, I
certainly do. 'Self-preservation is the first law of nature.' I shall
never forget a conversation I had with old Count Eberhard, last winter,
upon this very subject."

"Ah yes, you knew him. Was he really a great man?"

"He was a man of one idea, of grand one-sidedness. But perhaps this is
a necessary condition of greatness."

"When did you speak with Countess Irma for the last time?"

"After her father's death, when she had shut herself up in impenetrable
darkness. I spoke to her, but could not see her, although she extended
her hand to me. I believe that I am the last man who held her hand in
his."

"Then let me take your hand in mine!" exclaimed the king.

He held Bronnen's hand in his for a long time, until the latter said:

"Your Majesty, confession for confession.--I loved Irma!"

He spoke in a curt and bitter tone. The king hastily withdrew his hand.

"I see," continued Bronnen, gathering all his strength, "that the
countess has mentioned nothing of my suit. I thank