The school children were ranged under the fruit-trees on either side of
the road. Bells were ringing, music resounding, cannon firing, and the
rugged mountains echoed back the merry din.
It was the queen's entry.
She sat in an open carriage drawn by four white horses. The prince, a
boy with golden hair and fresh complexion, sat by her side. The
carriage stopped at the boundary line. A maiden dressed in the becoming
costume of the country, welcomed the queen in a poem of the
schoolmaster's composition, and presented her with a bouquet of Alpine
flowers. The queen graciously accepted the bouquet. She bowed in all
directions and held out her hand to the child. The prince followed her
example, saying in a voice loud enough to be heard by the town council
and all the catholic and evangelical ministers present: "God greet
you!"
Cheers resounded again and again, and their path was strewn with
flowers.
The queen drove through the little town, which was decorated with flags
and garlands. On her arrival, she found that the court cavaliers who
had preceded her were in waiting, and that Gunther was among them. For
the first time since his return, he wore the marks of the various grand
orders to which he belonged. After passing under a triumphal arch, the
carriage stopped and the queen alighted.
She held out her hand to Gunther, who would gladly have kissed it; but
he turned to the prince and kissed him. He was so agitated that he
could not speak a word. At last he said:
"I bid Your Majesty welcome to my home!"
"Wherever you are, there is home," replied the queen.
She passed, leading her boy by the hand.
Countess Brinkenstein, Lady Constance, and other court ladies, also
exchanged greetings with Gunther. There were others, however, who were
more recently appointed and whom Gunther did not know.
The queen and her immediate suite soon reached the great terrace, which
commanded a delightful view of mountain and valley. Gunther pointed out
the direction of the mountain range and the intervening valleys. He
also told her the names of the principal peaks and would, here and
there, add a few items of historical interest. He was presenting the
chiefs of his native home to the queen. Evening soon set in and the
lofty heights were bathed in the warm hues of the glorious sunset. They
were silent for a few moments, while they gazed up at the heights, and
little did they think of her who had been dreamily looking thence out
into the wide world, and who had just been startled by the echo of the
gun from the neighboring cliffs. There must be some joyous feast going
on down there, she thought, and she who had once moved among this
circle, and had not been the least admired in it, lived within herself,
in silence and solitude.
It seemed as if the whole population of the town and the outlying
neighborhood had gathered at the park railing, in order to catch a
glimpse of the queen. All that pertained to her, be it her horses, her
carriages, or her servants, inspired them with wonder and admiration.
At the sound of the evening bell, the men took off their hats and,
after a silent prayer, all proceeded homeward.
It was soon night. The party had dispersed, and the queen asked Gunther
if there was not some way to get to his house without going through the
town. Gunther replied that the king had had a path made around the
hill.
The queen looked down. The king's thoughtful care pleased her. Had he
been present at that moment, she would have spoken to him more kindly
than she had done for many a day.
"I should like to visit your family," said the queen.
"I shall have the honor of bringing them to Your Majesty to-morrow."
"The evening is so charming; let us go to them now."
The queen, attended by Gunther and numerous ladies and gentlemen of the
court, took the new path that led to the doctor's dwelling.
"Had you not better send word to your ladies that the queen is about to
visit them?" said Countess Brinkenstein to Gunther. Although the laws
of etiquette were sometimes relaxed during her visit to the country,
the informal manner in which the queen set about paying this visit
seemed opposed to all rules.
Gunther graciously declined following out her suggestion.
He was proudly conscious of the fact that, at whatever time the queen
and her suite might enter his house, they would find his wife, his
house and his children prepared to receive them.
Clever Stasi, the inspector's wife, had, however, heard where they were
going, and hurried to tell Madame Gunther who was coming.
When the visitors arrived, the garden saloon was brilliantly lighted
and, at the garden gate, they were met by Madame Gunther, who was
attended by both of her daughters. Their reception of the queen was
respectful and reverential, although it may not have been strictly in
accordance with that prescribed by court forms.
"I could not wait," said the queen.--Her voice seemed clearer and
brighter than before.--"I felt that I must see you to-day and offer you
my congratulations. You, I presume, are the affianced of Minister
Bronnen?" said she, addressing Paula.
Paula bowed so correctly that Countess Brinkenstein could not repress a
nod of approval. The queen extended her hand to Paula and kissed her on
the forehead.
"I shall now see you often," she added, "and it will be pleasant to
remember that I've known you in your home."
She beckoned Madame Gunther to draw near, and, accompanied by her,
walked about the garden.
"And so I see you to-day, for the first time," said the queen. "I trust
that you do not look upon me as a stranger?"
"Your Majesty, it is the first time in my life that I address a queen,
and I entreat you--"
"Your husband has been as a father to me, and I wish that you,
too-- But let us leave it to the future to determine our impressions of
each other. Permit me, however, to request you to cast aside a little
of your Swiss prejudice against royalty."
"Your Majesty, I am a citizen of your country."
"I am delighted that our first meeting is in your own house. Do you
still sing much? I've been told that you used to sing beautifully."
"Your Majesty, I've left that to the younger voices of my children.
Paula sings."
"How charming! I have long regretted that none of the ladies of our
more immediate circle sing well."
Like a passing shadow, the thought of Irma flashed through the queen's
mind. She was standing by the stream that flowed down from the mountain
meadow, and which here noisily rushed by.
The queen remained in the pavilion but a short time. When she was about
to leave, she said to Madame Gunther:
"Will you not accompany me part of the way?"
"No, I thank Your Majesty."
"Then I shall see you to-morrow. Good-night. Let us be good neighbors."
The queen left.
Gunther well knew how the ladies of the court would discuss his wife's
great breach of decorum in declining to comply with the queen's
expressed wish. But he did not say a word to his wife about it, for he
knew that he could permit her to have her own way. He felt sure that
she would always do what was right, and that, if she did disregard
certain conventionalities, she would nevertheless manage everything for
the best. Indeed, the very fact of her having gently repelled the
queen's exceedingly gracious advances, was doubly reassuring to him.
"I am glad," said Madame Gunther to her husband, when they were
together in the drawing-room, "that Paula becomes introduced to court
life while yet in her father's house. The queen really impresses me as
a noble creature."
Gunther assented, and added that Paula had already proven how well she
had profited by Bronnen's advice. For Bronnen had told her that, in
order to be free at court, one must make its trifling forms a sort of
second nature, so that they can be practiced without special stress or
difficulty; and that, in fact, they must be mastered just as one
masters the grammar of his native tongue.
In the silent moonlight night, Paula was heard singing, with full voice
and passionate expression, the concluding verses of the song of
Goethe's, the song that Bronnen admired above all others:
Crown of existence,
Joy without rest,
Love art thou.
On yonder heights, whither no voice from below reached, there sat a
solitary one, and through her mind there passed a song of the same
master's--the song of songs, in which the soul is freed from all its
burdens, and is again united with enduring nature:
O'er hill and dale,
Thy splendor falls;
No longer care
My heart enthralls.
The court ladies at the dairy-farm kept up their talk until a late
hour. Those who had not been permitted to accompany the queen envied
the others, who had enjoyed an early opportunity of meeting Bronnen's
affianced. What could there have been in the citizen's daughter to
tempt Bronnen, who might have had the hand of the highest in the land?
Some pronounced her awkward, others too confident, and doubts were
expressed as to her beauty. The younger ladies were jokingly informed
that, for many days to come, Doctor Gunther would have a parade of
sentiment and universal ideas, and this, too, _au grand serieux_.
The moon shone brightly on the mountains and the valleys. Everything
was hushed in slumber. The only sounds heard were the gurgling of the
springs, the murmuring of the stream and, now and then, a mountain cry
from the heights above.
A bright day dawned.
Gunther visited the queen at an early hour. For the next few weeks, he
had determined to sacrifice his quiet mornings. He was quite willing to
devote himself entirely to his friend, and looked forward to a
resumption of his wonted employments, after her departure.
He was again sitting on the terrace, as he had been one morning five
years ago; but this time, instead of looking at the distant mountains,
he was surrounded by them, and, as she had then done, the queen now
again appeared in a white morning robe and greeted him. But her whole
being had changed; her step was freer, her words more decided.
"We shall make no programme of what we intend to do here," said she,
as she walked up and down the garden with Gunther; "we'll take life as
it comes."
She told him how pleased she was to have made the acquaintance of his
wife and daughters, and that she thought he had done wisely, while at
the capital, in keeping his home life and his life at court, as far as
possible, distinct from each other. Memories of Irma again seemed to
cast a passing shadow over the bright morning, for the queen well knew
that Gunther had introduced her to his family. It seemed as if the
memory of Irma were not yet fully banished and buried.
"I trust Your Majesty will, nevertheless, permit me to draw up a little
programme," said Gunther. "It has but one paragraph. Permit me to
explain it. I've never been able to express myself in writing on this
matter. I can only do so in person. I have to accuse myself of having
done you a great wrong."
"You? A great wrong?"
"Yes, and it relieves me to confess it to you. Your Majesty, I do not
inquire as to your present relations with your royal consort. The fact
that he has prepared all this for you, and the manner in which it has
been done, proves his delicate feeling."
"And I admit it willingly, but still I cannot--"
"I am obliged to interrupt you, Your Majesty, for that which I request
of you is that we shall never more speak of your relations to his
majesty. Long ago, when you were torn by an inner struggle, I believed
that if I could only induce you to encourage freer and more liberal
views, a clearer mental vision would better enable you to be just
toward others, and would be followed by returning love. And it was just
there that I was wrong, for I offended against a simple but fundamental
principle: feelings cannot be governed by thought. And were it
otherwise, the interference of a third party should always be rejected.
The attempted mediator only widens the breach. Husband and wife can
alone repair it. And now, Your Majesty, let us speak no more of this
matter, for thus only can we, without feeling embarrassed, meet each
other, or the king himself. Your own heart is your only confidant.
Follow its dictates, and do not be frightened back by any apparent
alienation or change of feeling! Will you grant me the favor I ask?"
"Yes. And now not another word on the subject."
They conversed freely and cheerfully, as if they had both laid aside a
burden which had heavily rested upon them.
The crown prince was brought in. Gunther was delighted with his healthy
appearance, and promised him a playmate who was born on the same day as
himself.
"Mamma, why haven't I a little sister?" asked the crown prince.
The color rose to the queen's cheeks.
"Little Cornelia is to be your sister," she replied, and gave orders
that they should take the prince to visit the child at the doctor's
house.
Gunther's parting instructions to Madame von Gerloff were that the
children should be shown the bird's nest in the rosebush. The prince
asked permission to take Schnipp and Schnapp with him, and the two
children were soon driving through the valley in the pretty little
carriage, a little groom managing the horses and a little outrider in
front. At noon, Madame Gunther and her daughters visited the queen.
Little by little, a common interest in their pleasures, aided by the
invigorating influences of nature, helped to bring about a uniform tone
of feeling, and thus to level distinctions which would be more closely
observed in city circles.
The days sped by pleasantly. The queen felt no craving for unwonted
pleasures; and every hour was complete in itself.
The queen, one day, told Madame Gunther that she was the first
citizen's wife with whom she had been on terms of familiar intimacy,
and that she could not help admiring her clear, good sense.
"I must tell you something of my youth," replied Madame Gunther, to
whom this condescending praise was quite a surprise.
"Pray do so," said the queen, encouragingly.
"Your Majesty, I was betrothed and happy. Wilhelm was traveling during
his vacation and we often wrote to each other. One day, I received a
letter from him which offended my pride and, indeed, deeply wounded me.
I had indulged in excessive sensibility and, in reply, he quoted the
words of Lessing which Nathan addresses to the Knight Templar:
'Mediocrity, like ours, can be found in abundance everywhere!'"
"And did that offend you?"
"Yes, Your Majesty; it offended me deeply. Gunther is without a trace
of that false modesty which is all the more vain, the more modest it
appears. He stood so high in my esteem that I felt he had, by using
this expression, committed an offense against himself and, I may
confess it, against myself, as well. I did not regard myself as
mediocre, but as a highly gifted being. But from that time, I began to
perceive that most suffering arises from the fact that those who have
understanding, culture, and some talent, regard themselves as belonging
to a higher order of beings, privileged to disregard ordinary barriers
and to step beyond their allotted sphere of duty. To acknowledge myself
as mediocre and to shape my own actions, and my judgment of others,
accordingly, has ever been my rule in life; and I must beg Your Majesty
to regard me in the same way. There are thousands of women like me. It
is just as it is in singing. I've sung in a chorus, and know there are
many good voices who never aspire to solos."
The queen was silent. The words which Madame Gunther had uttered in
perfect sincerity, might be applied in so many different ways--to
herself, to the king, and to her who was still unforgotten.
At last she looked up frankly.
"I have a request to make of you," she said, with faltering voice,
while she took out a breastpin with a large pearl. "Oblige me by
accepting this memento of this hour and of the truth which you have
just imparted to me."
"Your Majesty," replied Madame Gunther, "I have never in all my life,
accepted a present of this kind. But I can easily understand that you,
as a queen, are accustomed to experience the joy of bestowing gifts on
others and of thus making them happy. I accept it as a symbol, as if it
were an unfading flower from your garden."
Madame Gunther wended her way homeward in a calm and contented mood.
When she arrived before the house, she suddenly stopped. The windows of
the large drawing-room were open. Some one was playing the piano with
powerful, masterly touch and expression. It could not be Paula. Who
could it be?
Madame Gunther's nephew, the young man whose song Irma had sung years
before, and who, on a previous visit to his relatives, had sought the
freeholder's dwelling as a refuge from the storm, and had there met
Irma without knowing who she was, had now, as had been foretold him,
become totally blind. He had become a master of the piano, and bore his
sad fate with manly fortitude. The meeting between Madame Gunther and
her nephew was deeply affecting.
That evening, she introduced him to the queen, who, as her first act of
friendship to the doctor's wife, appointed him "pianist to the queen."
All that remained was to submit the appointment to the approval of the
king, who was expected to arrive in a few days.