fore the holy of holies in the church. Oh, what a heavenly creature
you are! You're all heart! I'll tell the child of it, and though it
doesn't understand what I say, it'll feel it all. From me it shall get
only good thoughts of you! I beg your pardon now, if I should ever
offend you, even in thought or do anything out of the way--" She could
say no more.

The queen motioned Walpurga to be quiet and held out her hand to her;
neither spoke another word. Angels were indeed passing through the
silent room.

Walpurga went away. It was self-confidence, not boldness, that made her
look straight into the faces of the courtiers whom she passed by the
way. As far as she was concerned, they did not exist.

When she was with the child again, she said:

"Yes, drink in my whole soul! It's all yours! If you don't become a man
in whom God and the world can take delight, you don't deserve a mother
like yours!"

Mademoiselle Kramer was amazed at Walpurga's words. But the latter did
not care to tell what was passing in her mind. There was perfect
silence, and yet she sat there, motionless, as if she could still hear
the organ and the singing of the angels.

"It isn't this that makes me so happy," said she, looking at the money
once more. "It must be just this way when one gets to heaven and the
Lord says: 'I'm glad you've come!' Oh, if I could only fly there now! I
don't know what to do with myself."

She loosened all her clothes; the world seemed too close and confined
to contain her.

"God be praised! the day's over," said she, when she lay down to rest
that evening. "It was a hard day, but a beautiful one; more beautiful
than I'll ever see again."

CHAPTER XVIII.

(IRMA TO HER FRIEND EMMA.)

"You ask me how I like the great world. The great I world, dear Emma,
is but a little world, after all. But I can readily understand why they
term it 'great.' It has a firmament of its own. Two suns rise daily; I
mean their majesties, of course. A gracious glance, or a kind word,
from either--and the day is clear and bright. Should they ignore you,
the weather is dull and dreary.

"The queen is all feeling, and lives in a transcendental world of her
own into which she would fain draw every one. She suggests a 'Jean
Paul' born after his time, and is of a tender, clinging disposition,
constantly vacillating between the dawn and twilight of emotion, and
always avoiding the wh