"But within the princely family itself these considerations do not apply," exclaimed Ilse. "The mutual intercourse of father and children, brothers and sisters,--these holy relations can never be disturbed."

A cloud came over the countenance of the Sovereign.

"Even they suffer in their exposed position. We do not live together; we see each other less alone, generally under the observation of others. Each has his special circle of interest, is influenced by those about him, who perhaps diminish his confidence in his nearest relations. You know my son; he has all the qualifications of a good, open-hearted man, but you will have observed how suspicious and reserved he has become."

Ilse forgot all caution, and again felt a little proud of being a confidante.

"Forgive me," she explained; "I have never found that. He is only bashful, and sometimes a little awkward."

The Sovereign smiled.

"You lately expressed an opinion with reference to what would be advantageous for his future. That he should for a time become acquainted with the management of a large family estate; it would undoubtedly be good for him to learn the work of a country gentleman by experience. Besides this, he is not happy at Court."

Ilse nodded.

"Have you also remarked that?" asked the Sovereign.

"I will give good advice for my Prince," thought Ilse, "even if it is not quite agreeable to him. May I venture to say," she said aloud, "that this is the best time of all. For he must learn, your Highness, the spring tilling, which is in full operation, so there must be no delay."

The Sovereign was much pleased with this zeal.

"It will not be easy to find a place," he said.

"Perhaps your Highness has an estate in the neighborhood where there is a small manor-house."

"Then he could come often to the city," replied the Sovereign sharply.

"That would not do," continued Ilse, eagerly. "He must first thoroughly know the work of the people, and for that be constantly in the fields."

"I could not find a better adviser," said the Sovereign, in excellent humor. "There is nothing in the vicinity that will answer; I have thought, however, of your father's estate."

Ilse started with surprise.

"But our mode of life is not adapted for the accommodation of a prince," she replied with reserve. "No, gracious Sovereign, the domestic arrangements of our family would not be suitable to the pretensions of the young man. I say nothing of other considerations which formerly never occurred to me, and which have first come home to me here. Therefore, if I may speak what I feel, I am of opinion that this, for many reasons, will not answer."

"It was only a thought," replied the Sovereign, good-humoredly. "The object may perhaps be attained without encroaching upon your father. It has been my wish," he continued, with chivalrous politeness, "to give you and your father a public proof of my esteem. I have special reasons for it." He looked significantly at Ilse, and she thought of the birthday of the Princess.

"I know the reason," she said softly.

The Sovereign drew his chair near.

"Your father has a large family?" he asked. "I have a vague recollection of having seen several rosy-cheeked boys about."

"They were my brothers," said Ilse, laughing; "they are handsome little fellows, gracious Sovereign, if I, as a sister, may praise them; they are at present somewhat uncouth, but good and clever. My Franz wrote to me only yesterday to beg me to greet your Highness for him. The little urchin thinks it is the right thing. Now, as I have the opportunity, I will show you the letter as he has written it; it is a stupid, childish message, but it comes from a good heart."

She felt in her pocket and brought forth a letter written in fair characters.

"See, your Highness, how well the child writes. But I must not show you the letter, for your Highness would find in it a confirmation of your opinion, that men have always selfish wishes in the background when they think of their princes. The poor boy also has his wish."

"Then let us have it," said the Sovereign.

Ilse showed him the letter; the Sovereign graciously took hold of the letter, and in doing so, his hand rested on hers.

"He is so barefaced as to ask your highness for an india-rubber ball.

The ball is already bought."

She jumped up and brought a gigantic colored ball.

"This I shall send to him to-day, and I shall write to him that it is not seemly to beg of so great a personage. He is nine years old, but still very childish--your highness must forgive him."

Enchanted by this frank open-heartedness, the Sovereign said:

"Write to him, at the same time, that I wish to tell him he must endeavor to preserve through the dangerous paths of life the pure feeling and loyal spirit of his eldest sister. I also feel how great is the blessing of your character to all who have the happiness of breathing your atmosphere. In a course of life which is filled with harrowing impressions, in which hatred and suspicion take more from the peace of the soul than hours of repose can restore to it, I have still retained my susceptibility for the innocent freshness of a mind like yours. You give me genuine pleasure."

Again he laid his hand gently on hers; Ilse looked down confused at the praise of her dear Sovereign.

A hasty step approached; the Sovereign rose, and the Professor entered.

He bowed to the Sovereign, and looked surprised at his wife.

"You are not ill?" he exclaimed. "Pardon, gracious Sir, I came in great anxiety about my wife. A strange boy rang the bell at the Museum, and brought a message that I must go immediately to see my wife, as she was ill; fortunately it was a mistake."

"I am thankful for the error," replied the Sovereign, "as it gives me the opportunity of saying to you what I was intending to mention to Madame Werner; orders have been given at the stable that a carriage shall be ready for you at any hour that you wish to take a journey in the neighborhood to pursue your mysterious investigations."

He took leave graciously.

The Sovereign opened the window of his study; the air was sultry, the sun had been shining long upon the earth; now it had vanished, heavy clouds rolled themselves, like great shapeless porpoises, over the city and castle. The Sovereign fetched a deep breath, but the heavy, sultry air forced the smoke from the chimneys of the castle down to his window, enveloping his head like a great mist. He hastily opened the door of the gallery which led to the reception-rooms, and walked out.

Against the walls hung a row of oil pictures, the portraits of beautiful ladies whom he had once favored with his attentions. His look strayed from one to the other; at the end of the row was an empty place; he stopped before it, and his fancy painted a picture with blonde hair, and a true-hearted, frank light in the eyes, more touching than any of the other faces.

"So late," he said, to himself. "It is the last place and the strongest feeling. They are fools who tell us that years make us indifferent. If I had come across her at the other end," he glanced back along the gallery, "at the beginning of my life, when I yet looked longingly at the roses on the cheeks of maidens and was touched by the song of hedge-sparrows, would such a woman then have preserved in me what I have lost forever? Useless thoughts of the past! I must in the present keep firm hold of what has come within the reach of my hand. She is indifferent about the weak youth; but she feels herself uneasy here, and if she tries to escape me I have no power to keep her back. I remain alone; daily the same wearisome faces, whose thoughts one knows before they are spoken, whose wishes one knows before they open their mouths, and whom one sees to be prepared with feigned feelings.

Whatever wit or will they have works secretly against me; what I receive from them is only the artificial glitter of life. It is sad to be a master before whom living souls turn into machines, and year after year to open the lid and examine the works. I myself have made them,"

he said, jeeringly, "but I am weary of my work."

"I know that the doubt arises often in my mind," the Sovereign murmured, "whether my unhappy skill has made them lies of human nature, or whether I myself am an automaton, which when wound up nods and repeats the same gracious words without thought. I know there are hours when I am ashamed of myself, when I strut about the stage as a clown or a bully; I see the wires that move my joints; I feel a desire to place my own head in the vice in order to improve what is faulty in it, and I see a large chest open into which I am thrown when my _role_ is played out."

"Oh," he groaned, from the depths of his heart. "I know that I am a reality, if not by day, yet at night. None of those about me are tormented in lonely hours as I am; their temples do not beat with fever heat when they lie down after their day's work.

"What pleasure have I amidst these dull tapestry-rooms, or among the old pictures of Mother Nature? Laughing without amus.e.m.e.nt, angry about trifles,--everything cold, indifferent, and soulless!

"It is only in rare moments, when I have been with her, that I feel like another man; then the warm blood courses through my veins. When in her honest simplicity she talks of all that she loves and takes pleasure in, a woman with a child's heart, then I become young again like her. She talked to me of her brother 'curly-head.' I see the boy before me, a lively lad, with his sister's eyes. I see the little simpleton eating his bread and b.u.t.ter, and it moves me as if I were reading a touching story. I long to catch up the boy in my arms as if he belonged to me.

"She herself is true and upright; it is a pure mind, and beneath her calm gentleness strong pa.s.sion lies concealed. What a pa.s.sion she fell into when my messenger offered her the patent of n.o.bility! She is a woman to live with whom is worth some trouble, and to gain whom a man would do much.

"But what can I do? What I can give her will be of little value to her; what I take from her--how will she make up her mind to that?" He looked timidly at the empty place on the wall. "Another picture was to have hung there," he exclaimed; "why is it not there? Why does the remembrance of one long gone lie on my brain like a stone, the pressure of which I feel every day when mingling among men, and every night when I rest my weary head upon my hands? That woman slept many years ago in the same room where now the stranger reposes; she did not awake, as it would have been right for her to have done; when she did awake and came to consciousness, a spring broke in her weak mind, and she remained a soulless body."

A feverish shudder pa.s.sed through him; he shook himself and rushed out of the gallery, looked shyly behind him, and closed the door.