ick. He ordered fresh saddle-horses and a second
carriage to be sent after him.

A few moments later, Bronnen and he were following in the wake of the
queen.

CHAPTER XIX.

The queen rode up the mountain, while Walpurga walked on by her side.
The sun was already sinking in the west. Its slanting rays shone
through the tree-tops and on the road which Gunther and the little
pitchman had taken on the night before, and there were now but few
signs of the rivulets that had yesterday traversed the path.

The queen did not utter a word, but she often gazed at Walpurga, and
many old memories and associations were awakened in her mind. There,
walking along beside me, is a woman who was brought from her home at my
request. In those days, when, with the king and Gunther, I was sitting
under the weeping ash, I was gentle and forgiving toward the fallen,
and Gunther said I deserved that thousands should pray for me. Did I
really deserve it then? Do I deserve it now? At that time, no one had
ever offended or injured me, and it was easy to appear forgiving. But
as soon as I was wronged, I gave way to scorn and hatred, and pride in
my own virtue, and encouraged myself in that feeling. He changed his
whole life, put all that was trivial and vain away from him, and
devoted his whole mind to faithful labors for the sake of his people,
while I became more and more austere and inflexible just because I was
so virtuous. Are you so virtuous, after all? What is the virtue that
lives for itself alone? And she who erred so bitterly; has she not
expiated still more bitterly? Sinner though she be, she stands far
above me. She died for my sake, and yet what has her death profited me?
I have left my husband to achieve his difficult work unaided and alone,
deserted him in the hour of greatest need. I have lived for myself
alone, for to live for my child was to live for myself. I have had
charity for the poor and helpless. But how as to my first duty? I could
not conquer myself--and am I the one who dares say that I am capable of
the highest, and "if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out?" Gunther was
right. No one can save you but yourself, for no one else can so often
tell you the truth.

During the many years in which she has been striving to perfect
herself, and in which he has strengthened himself in noble deeds for
his people, what have I been doing? It is I who have sinned. You shall
not die, Irma! You