ion of all who beheld him. He was
happy, for he knew that their admiration was not flattery. When Irma
first saw him and made her obeisance to the royal couple, it required
all her self-command, to refrain from sinking on her knees at his feet.
Then she looked up into his face, with a happy, beseeching air.

She could scarce refrain from expressing her admiration and devotion.

The queen greeted her cordially, and said:

"I am sorry, Irma, that you can't see yourself; you're enough to make
one believe in miracles."

The king said nothing, but Irma felt his glance resting upon her. She
could not conceive how it was that his glances and the queen's words
did not destroy her. With an effort to regain her composure, she said:

"Ah, Your Majesty, I find my costume oppressive. A spirit should stay
but a minute and then vanish in a burst of flame."

"There is a minute which is as eternity."

Irma had, indeed, felt a conscious pride in her beautiful appearance,
but now she experienced a higher joy. He who was so tall and handsome,
a knight more perfect than fancy could devise, could give the kiss of
eternity; for he alone, was the highest embodiment of the idea of
royalty.

Irma scarcely noticed what was going on about her.

The royal couple passed on, and Irma, in spite of her splendid attire,
felt as if deserted and forlorn. The king was no longer near her. In
the distance she could still see him, radiant as a god.

Those who were near Irma, praised her ingenious and poetical costume.
She did not hear a word of what was said. The queen sent for her. The
king had wished the queen to open the ball with him, but she had
declined. He always asked her, as a matter of form, but she never
danced.

She now begged Irma to open the ball in her stead.

Irma bowed her thanks, but a proud feeling of superiority filled her
breast. "You have nothing to give me. It is I who am giving. It is I
who am renouncing. He is mine. The priest gave him to you; nature has
given him to me. You are a tender, delicate flower, but we are eagles,
who soar into the clouds."

She could hardly conceive how she could bear it all. Every drop of
blood in her veins had turned to fire.

The quadrille began.

Irma felt the king's warm breath against her cheek. He pressed her
hand, indulged in various pleasantries, and remarked that it was
charming to be able to indulge one's fancy in conjuring up a fantastic
world. Irma felt that both she and the