talent, regard themselves as belonging
to a higher order of beings, privileged to disregard ordinary barriers
and to step beyond their allotted sphere of duty. To acknowledge myself
as mediocre and to shape my own actions, and my judgment of others,
accordingly, has ever been my rule in life; and I must beg Your Majesty
to regard me in the same way. There are thousands of women like me. It
is just as it is in singing. I've sung in a chorus, and know there are
many good voices who never aspire to solos."

The queen was silent. The words which Madame Gunther had uttered in
perfect sincerity, might be applied in so many different ways--to
herself, to the king, and to her who was still unforgotten.

At last she looked up frankly.

"I have a request to make of you," she said, with faltering voice,
while she took out a breastpin with a large pearl. "Oblige me by
accepting this memento of this hour and of the truth which you have
just imparted to me."

"Your Majesty," replied Madame Gunther, "I have never in all my life,
accepted a present of this kind. But I can easily understand that you,
as a queen, are accustomed to experience the joy of bestowing gifts on
others and of thus making them happy. I accept it as a symbol, as if it
were an unfading flower from your garden."

Madame Gunther wended her way homeward in a calm and contented mood.
When she arrived before the house, she suddenly stopped. The windows of
the large drawing-room were open. Some one was playing the piano with
powerful, masterly touch and expression. It could not be Paula. Who
could it be?

Madame Gunther's nephew, the young man whose song Irma had sung years
before, and who, on a previous visit to his relatives, had sought the
freeholder's dwelling as a refuge from the storm, and had there met
Irma without knowing who she was, had now, as had been foretold him,
become totally blind. He had become a master of the piano, and bore his
sad fate with manly fortitude. The meeting between Madame Gunther and
her nephew was deeply affecting.

That evening, she introduced him to the queen, who, as her first act of
friendship to the doctor's wife, appointed him "pianist to the queen."
All that remained was to submit the appointment to the approval of the
king, who was expected to arrive in a few days.

CHAPTER XIII.

The king had arrived during the night. In order to avoid the pomp of a
reception, he came unannounced.