f truth to which we appeal, or rather to whose appeal we
give utterance."

There was a long pause. Bronnen's face glowed with excitement. The king
was chilly, and wrapped himself in his mantle. His eyes were closed. At
last he sat up and said:

"I thank her; she has given me a friend, a true man. You will remain to
me."

The king's voice was hoarse. He wrapped his mantle yet more closely
about him, lay back in the corner of the carriage, and closed his eyes.
Not another word was uttered until they reached the hunting-seat. The
king told his suite that he felt unwell and would not take part in the
hunt. The rest of the party plunged into the forest, while the king
remained alone with Bronnen.

CHAPTER IV.

It was after breakfast. The queen, attended by the ladies of the court,
was in the music room.

The first mist of early autumn obscured the landscape, and the morn
gave promise of a lovely, bracing day.

Various journals were lying before the queen. She pushed them away,
saying:

"How terrible these newspapers are! What license! This sheet is usually
so unobjectionable; but even here it is stated that Count Wildenort
died of grief because of the conduct of his unmarried daughter. Can
such things be permitted? Was such a thing ever heard of--Ah, dear
councilor!" added she, addressing her private secretary, "there's a
sealed letter for Countess Irma on my desk upstairs. Let a messenger
take it to her at once. If she could only be kept in ignorance of these
terrible newspapers stories; I hope she may, at all events."

The ladies of the court were engaged with their embroidery. They
replied their needles more nimbly than before and did not look up from
their work.

Countess Brinkenstein was called away. After some time she returned,
accompanied by the doctor.

"Ah, welcome!" cried the queen.

At a sign from Countess Brinkenstein, the ladies retired.

"How charming! you've come just in the nick of time," said the queen. "I
am just about to send off a letter for Countess Irma; you might add a
few kind words."

"Your Majesty, Countess Irma will not be able to read your letter of
condolence."

"Why not?"

"The countess is--very ill."

"Very ill? You say it in such a--not dangerously, I hope?"

"I fear so."

"Doctor! your voice--what is it? The countess is not--"

"Dead--!" said the doctor, covering his face with his bands.

For a few moments there was breathle