My good mother, in her devout manner, used to
say: 'May God help us, until we can help ourselves.'"

"I thank you!" said the queen. "I thank you," she repeated, and closed
her eyes.

CHAPTER XV.

On the same morning on which the king and Bronnen were closeted
together at the hunting-seat, the queen sent for Gunther. He found her
clad in white and resting on her couch. She looked pale and feeble, and
told him how provoked she felt at the vanity and conceit which had
induced her, a young queen, to regard herself as wise and good, and had
led her to imagine herself as gifted with unusual endowments.

"Did you know of what was going on here?" she asked the physician.

"No; I would not have believed it possible, and it is only now that I
understand the terrible death of my dear friend Eberhard. A father in
such grief--"

The queen did not enter into this view of the matter and went on, as if
speaking to herself:

"When I recall the days, the hours, in which she sung, I must
ask myself, can it be possible to sing such songs and such
words,--breathing naught but love, kindness, exaltation, purity--and
at the same time have nothing in one's soul? Aye, worse than
nothing--falseness and hypocrisy? Every word seems false. Have we a
right to be princes, to regard ourselves as superior to others and
entitled to rule them, if we do not elevate ourselves above them by
purity and greatness of soul? I have become a changed being since
yesterday. My soul then lay at the bottom of the sea, and the waves of
death and despair raged above me; but now I wish to live. Only tell me
how to endure it all. You've been at court so long and despise
everything. Don't shake your head; you despise it all--! Tell me, how
is one to endure it? How can one manage to live on and yet remain here?
You surely possess the mystery; impart it to me, for that alone can
save me."

"Your Majesty," replied the physician, "you are still feverish and
excited."

"Indeed, is that the sum of all your science? Princes are right when
they abuse their fellow-creatures, for even the best of men are naught
but polite shadows. I had placed all my dependence upon you; I had
looked up to you as one exalted far above me; and where I had hoped to
clasp a hand, you offer me an empty glove. You smile; I am not
delirious, I've merely awakened to the truth; I have just passed
through hours in which the beautiful world--ah! how full of b