iding, and will be at the waterfall at
dinner-time. Will Your Majesty not wait until then?"

"No," replied the queen, in a determined voice, as if the question had
interrupted a train of thought. "I desire," said she, "to be permitted
to act upon my own responsibility."

"Your Majesty, there is no carriage-road to the mountain meadow,"
mildly added Countess Brinkenstein.

"But there's a bridle-path almost all the way up to the cottage,"
replied Walpurga. "And there's Stasi's husband; he's a forester and
knows all the roads; I'll call him."

She hurried to the inspector's office and brought him out with her. He
confirmed her statement that they could drive for a good distance, and
that then they could ride.

The queen ordered him to precede them with saddle-horses. She retired
to her apartments, and soon afterward, accompanied by Paula, Sixtus,
and Walpurga, drove up the mountain. Two lackeys were sitting upon the
rumble.

The betrothed of the man who had once loved Irma, and the wife of
him whose love Irma had returned, sat side by side, hurrying to her
death-bed. It was not until they were well on their way that they
regained their composure.

There was but little that Walpurga could tell them about Irma's simple
life, and she, therefore, made so much the more of the uncle's account
of how Irma had traveled to the capital with him, in disguise, and how,
at the summer palace, she had once more beheld the queen and the
prince. Her recital was frequently interrupted by tears, while she went
on to tell them how Irma had nursed her dying mother, and how her
mother, who had known all, had, on her death-bed, given Irma her
blessing.

The queen held her handkerchief to her eyes and silently extended her
hand to Walpurga.

The more Walpurga told them, the more pure and exalted did Irma appear.
Turning to Paula, the queen said:

"That is life in death--it must have required inconceivable courage."

"There are saints even in our days," replied Paula. "All that olden
times knew of the great, the beautiful and the true, still exists in
the world, even though it be scattered and hidden from view."

In the depth of her sorrow, the queen's eye beamed with conscious
delight at the thought that, although Gunther was no longer with her,
that which was best in him was now beside her in his child.

Walpurga was again obliged to tell them of that morning by the lake.
And then she went on to speak of Irma's beautiful work, b