"Yes, quite well, thank God! That is, I couldn't hear him, and I only
wanted to say that I'd like to act towards the--" she could not say "the
Prince"--"that is, towards him, as I'd do with my own child. We began on
the very first day. My mother taught me that. Such a child has a will of
its own from the very start, and it won't do to give way to it. It won't
do to take it from the cradle, or to feed it, whenever it pleases; there
ought to be regular times for all those things. It'll soon get used to
that, and it won't harm it either, to let it cry once in a while. On the
contrary, that expands the chest."
"Does he cry?" asked the Queen.
The infant answered the question for itself, for it at once began to cry
most lustily.
"Take him and quiet him," begged the Queen.
The King entered the apartment before the child had stopped crying.
"He will have a good voice of command," said he, kissing the Queen's
hand.
Walpurga quieted the child, and she and Mademoiselle Kramer were sent
back to their apartments.
The King informed the Queen of the dispatches that had been received,
and of the sponsors who had been decided upon. She was perfectly
satisfied with the arrangements that had been made.
When Walpurga had returned to her room and had placed the child in the
cradle, she walked up and down and seemed quite agitated.
"There are no angels in this world!" said she. "They're all just like
the rest of us, and who knows but--" She was vexed at the Queen: "Why
won't she listen patiently when her child cries? We must take all our
children bring us, whether it be joy or pain."
She stepped out into the passage-way and heard the tones of the organ in
the palace-chapel. For the first time in her life these sounds
displeased her. "It don't belong in the house," thought she, "where all
sorts of things are going on. The church ought to stand by itself."
When she returned to the room, she found a stranger there. Mademoiselle
Kramer informed her that this was the tailor to the Queen.
Walpurga laughed outright at the notion of a "tailor to the Queen." The
elegantly attired person looked at her in amazement, while Mademoiselle
Kramer explained to her that this was the dressmaker to her Majesty the
Queen, and that he had come to take her measure for three new dresses.
"Am I to wear city clothes?"
"God forbid! You're to wear the dress of your neighborhood, and can
order a stomacher in red, blue, green, or any color that you like best."
"I hardly know what to say; but I'd like to have a workday suit too.
Sunday clothes on week-days--that won't do."
"At court one always wears Sunday clothes, and when her Majesty drives
out again you will have to accompany her."
"A11 right, then. I won't object."
While he took her measure, Walpurga laughed incessantly, and he was at
last obliged to ask her to hold still, so that he might go on with his
work. Putting his measure into his pocket, he informed Mademoiselle
Kramer that he had ordered an exact model, and that the master of
ceremonies had favored him with several drawings, so that there might be
no doubt of success.
Finally he asked permission to see the Crown Prince. Mademoiselle Kramer
was about to let him do so, but Walpurga objected.
"Before the child is christened," said she, "no one shall look at it
just out of curiosity, and least of all a tailor, or else the child will
never turn out the right sort of man."
The tailor took his leave, Mademoiselle Kramer having politely hinted to
him that nothing could be done with the superstition of the lower
orders, and that it would not do to irritate the nurse.
This occurrence induced Walpurga to administer the first serious
reprimand to Mademoiselle Kramer. She could not understand why she was
so willing to make an exhibition of the child. "Nothing does a child
more harm than to let strangers look at it in its sleep, and a tailor
at that."
All the wild fun with which, in popular songs, tailors are held up to
scorn and ridicule, found vent in Walpurga, and she began singing:--
"Just list, ye braves, who love to roam!
A snail was chasing a tailor home.
And if Old Shears hadn't run so fast,
The snail would surely have caught him at last."
Mademoiselle Kramer's acquaintance with the court tailor had lowered
her in Walpurga's esteem; and with an evident effort to mollify the
latter, Mademoiselle Kramer asked:--
"Does the idea of your new and beautiful clothes really afford you no
pleasure?"
"To be frank with you, no! I don't wear them for my own sake, but for
that of others, who dress me to please themselves. It's all the same to
me, however! I've given myself up to them, and suppose I must submit."
"May I come in?" asked a pleasant voice. Countess Irma entered the room.
Extending both her hands to Walpurga, she said:--
"God greet you, my countrywoman! I am also from the Highlands, seven
hours distance from your village. I know it well, and once sailed over
the lake with your father. Does he still live?"
"Alas! no: he was drowned, and the lake hasn't given up its dead."
"He was a fine-looking old man, and you are the very image of him."
"I am glad to find some one else here who knew my father. The court
tailor--I mean the court doctor--knew him too. Yes, search the land
through, you couldn't have found a better man than my father, and no one
can help but admit it."
"Yes: I've often heard as much."
"May I ask your Ladyship's name?"
"Countess Wildenort."
"Wildenort? I've heard the name before. Yes, I remember my mother's
mentioning it. Your father was known as a very kind and benevolent man.
Has he been dead a long while?"
"No, he is still living."
"Is he here too?"
"No."
"And as what are you here, Countess?"
"As maid of honor."
"And what is that?"
"Being attached to the Queen's person; or what, in your part of the
country, would be called a companion."
"Indeed! And is your father willing to let them use you that way?"