the great question. But the world must
not force us to be different from what we are."

"Mathilde, you speak like a martyr. Your feelings are exalted and
worthy of all reverence. You are both good and noble; but, believe me,
the best actions, indeed, the only proper ones, are those which require
neither explanations nor apology. We are not hermits. Although your
motives are pure and lofty, the world will be unable and unwilling to
understand them. Nor dare we make explanations. A prince degrades
himself by stooping to explain his actions. You regard the world with
heavenly feelings; but the heaven lies in your way of looking at
things, not in the world itself. I should be sorry to reveal the
world's wickedness to you, and thus cast a gloom over your kindly views
of life. Hold fast to your belief in the Highest, but do it after the
forms of your own faith."

"And must I, all my life, walk in one path, while you and the child
take another?"

"Mathilde, we are not anchorites; we are not even private citizens. Our
position is an exposed one. A sovereign can have no private actions--"

"Do you mean that all we do is to be as an example to others?"

"I mean that, too," said the king, hesitating; "but what I meant to say
was, that, in whatever you do, it is not yourself alone, but the queen
who acts. Its effects are felt far and near. I am happy to be the
object of so much love. You feel it, do you not, Mathilde?"

"Don't speak of it. Our best and deepest feelings do not seek
expression in words."

"Bear this well in mind--the wife of a private gentleman can perform
such an action in secret. You cannot. You would be obliged to close the
Protestant court chapel, and would thus offend all throughout the land
who hold your present faith."

"I don't wish to offend any one. The world can't ask me to make such a
sacrifice. My highest, my only aim, is to be one with you, on earth and
in heaven, now and hereafter."

"Very well, then; promise me one thing."

"Whatever you wish."

"Promise me that you will defer acting on your resolve, for at least a
month. It would be wrong to allow a passing mood to change the course
of one's life."

"You're a noble creature," said the queen; "I'll obey you."

"So you give up your resolve?"

"No, I shall wait. I don't wish it to be what you imagine it--the
outgrowth of a sickly mood, engendered by the seclusion of my chamber.
I'll allow it to ripen in the sunlight, and you will then