ut she soon
noticed that the queen was not listening, and stopped.

They drove on in silence.

They reached the end of the carriage road, and now continued the
journey on horseback.

Soon after the queen's departure, the king and Bronnen returned from
the chase. They felt refreshed and invigorated by the sport, and the
king inquired whether the queen had already repaired to the waterfall,
for she had expressed a desire to sketch there.

For the first time in her life. Countess Brinkenstein was so
embarrassed that she almost lost her presence of mind. She, of course,
felt a proper sympathy for Irma, but as long as she had lived in
concealment she should have died in concealment. Why should she thus
agitate them all anew? She shook her head in deprecation of this
eccentric being who, long after one had mourned and forgotten her, was
not even decently dead.

With faltering voice, she informed the king of what had happened, and
scarcely ventured to tell him that on her own responsibility, and
contrary to all court regulations, the queen had gone away, attended by
no one but Paula and privy councilor Sixtus.

For some moments, the king neither moved nor uttered a word, but stood
there with his eyes bent on the ground. The very earth at his feet
seemed to tremble. Everything seemed unsteady as if in an earthquake,
and terrors and despair overwhelmed him.

All that he had experienced, during long years of suffering and
expiation, now rose before him again. He had striven and wrestled and
made sacrifices, and no one had thanked him for all this; least of all
his own heart, for he was burdened with guilt and yet anxious to do
good, and forced to acknowledge, in all humility, that the power to do
good was yet left him.

Trembling with agitation, he pressed his clenched hand against his
brow. His cheeks burned, while his limbs shook with a feverish chill.
God be thanked, she still lives! The guilt of death is lifted from my
soul; and she, too, will see what I have suffered, and what I have
become--

During the last few moments, he had lived the secret torments of past
years over again. He now looked about him, as if emerging from another
world. There had been no earthquake; the trees, the houses, the
mountains still stood in their old places. He looked at Bronnen and,
offering his icy cold hand, whispered almost inaudibly:

"And so the presentiment that you expressed at the hunting-seat, is
true."

His voice was th