Preceded by a servant bearing a lantern, they passed through the long, narrow, brilliantly lighted passage and ascending a staircase, reached the gallery of the royal chapel. There were cushioned chairs for the court. Walpurga looked down into the vast, dark hall. There was no light except that in the altar lamp, the rays of which faintly illumined the image of the Virgin.

"Thou art everywhere!" said Walpurga, half aloud, while she looked down into the dark church and saluted the Madonna with the Child, as familiarly as if greeting an intimate friend. A dim sense of the divine attributes of maternity, as glorified in ages of song and picture, prayer and sacrifice, filled her soul. She nodded to the picture once again, and then walked on. As uncertain of her steps as if walking on glass, she went through the throne-room, and the great ball-room. Then they passed through other apartments which, though evidently intended for more domestic uses, were without doors and were separated from each other by heavy double hangings. At last they descended a wide marble staircase with a golden balustrade. It was well-lighted and carpeted. Here there were servants and guards. They entered other apartments, which were filled with people, who paused in their eager conversation to glance at Walpurga, In the third room, Dr. Gunther advanced toward her. Taking her by the hand, he led her up to a gentleman who was attired in a brilliant uniform and wore the crosses and medals of many orders.

"This is his majesty, the king," said he.

"I know him; I've seen him before," replied Walpurga. "My father rowed him across the lake, and so did my Hansei, too."

"Then, as we have known each other so long, let us improve our acquaintance," replied the king. "And now go to the queen; but be careful not to agitate her."

He dismissed her with a gracious inclination of the head and, accompanied by Doctor Gunther and Countess Brinkenstein, whom they found in attendance, she passed through several other rooms, the heavy carpets of which deadened the sounds of their footsteps.

"Be careful not to agitate her." The words greatly troubled Walpurga. Why should she provoke the queen to anger? for that was the only meaning she could take from the word.

Although she did not know what they meant by the word, her being pushed hither and thither, up and down, through passages and rooms without number, encountering the glances of the courtiers by the way and, at last, receiving the king's warning, had had the effect of agitating her.

At last she stood at the threshold of a green apartment that appeared to her like an enchanted room, hollowed out of some vast emerald. A lamp with a green glass shade hung from the ceiling, and shed a soft, fairy-like light on the room and its inmates. And there on the large, canopied bed, with the glittering crown overhead, lay the queen.

Walpurga held her breath; a soft glow illumined the face of her who lay there.

"Have you come?" asked a gentle voice.

"Yes, my queen, God greet you! Just keep yourself quiet and cheerful. All has gone well with you, thank God!"

With these words, Walpurga advanced toward the bedside, and would not suffer Doctor Gunther nor Countess Brinkenstein to keep her back. She offered her hand to the queen. And thus two hands--one hardened by toil and rough as the bark of a tree, the other as soft as the petal of a lily--clasped each other.

"I thank you for having come. Were you glad to do so?"

"I was glad to come, but sorry to leave home."

"You surely love your child and your husband with all your heart."

"I'm my husband's wife, and my child's mother."

"And your mother nurses your child and cares for it with a loving heart?" inquired the queen.

"The idea!" replied Walpurga.

The queen did not seem to know that her answer meant: "That's a matter of course," and she therefore asked: "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, indeed; I understand German," replied Walpurga. "But Your Majesty shouldn't speak so much. God willing, we'll be together in happiness for many days to come. We'll arrange everything when we can look into each other's eyes in broad daylight, and I'll do all I can to please you and the child. I've got over my homesickness and now I must do my duty. I'll be a good nurse to your child; don't let that worry you. And now, good-night! Sleep well, and let nothing trouble you. And now let me see our child."

"Breath of my breath, it lies here, sleeping by my side. How infinite is God's grace, how marvelous are his works!"

Walpurga felt that some one was pulling at her dress, and hastily said:

"Good-night, dear queen. Put all idle thoughts away from you. This is no time to busy yourself thinking. We'll have enough to think of when the time comes. Good-night!"

"No, remain here! You must stay!" begged the queen.

"I must beg Your Majesty--" hurriedly interposed Doctor Gunther.

"Do leave her with me a little while," begged the queen, in childlike tones. "I am sure it will do me no harm to talk with her. When she drew near the bed, and I heard her voice, I felt as if a breath of Alpine air, in all its dewy freshness, was being wafted toward me. Even now I feel as if lying on a high mountain, from which I can look down into the beautiful world."

"Your Majesty, such excitement may prove quite injurious."

"Very well; I will be calm. But do leave her with me a moment longer! Let me have more light, so that I may see her."

The screen was removed from a lamp that stood on a side-table, and the two mothers beheld each other, face to face.

"How beautiful you are!" exclaimed the queen.

"That doesn't matter any longer," replied Walpurga. "God be praised, we've both got over having our heads turned by such nonsense. You're a wife and mother, and so am I."

The screen fell again; the queen, taking Walpurga's hand in hers, said in a gentle voice:

"Bend down to me, I want to kiss you--I must kiss you."

Walpurga did as she was bid, and the queen kissed her.

"You can go now. Keep yourself good and true," said the queen.

A tear of Walpurga's fell upon the face of the queen, who added:

"Don't weep! You, too, are a mother."

Unable to utter another word, Walpurga turned to go, and the queen called after her.

"What is your name?"

"Walpurga," said Doctor Gunther, answering for her.

"And can you sing well?" asked the queen.

"They say so," replied Walpurga.

"Then sing often to my child, or 'our child,' as you call him. Good-night!"

Doctor Gunther remained with the queen. It was some time before he uttered a word. He felt that he must calm her excited feelings, and he had a safe and simple remedy at command.

"I must request Your Majesty," said he, "to return my congratulations. My daughter Cornelia, the wife of Professor Korn of the university, was safely delivered of a little girl, at the very hour in which the crown prince was born."

"I congratulate the child on having such a grandfather. You shall, also, be the grandfather of our son."

"The congratulation that imposes a noble duty upon its recipient, is the best that can be given," replied Gunther. "I thank you. But we must now cease talking. Permit me to bid Your Majesty good-night!"

Gunther left the room. All was silent.

Instead of taking Walpurga back to the upper rooms, they had conducted her to a well-furnished apartment on the other side of the palace, where, to her great delight, she found Mademoiselle Kramer awaiting her.

"The queen kissed me!" exclaimed she. "Oh, what an angel she is! I'd no idea there were such creatures in the world."

Some time later, when the queen had fallen asleep, two women brought a gilded cradle into Walpurga's room.

When they took the child from the bed, the queen, as if conscious of what was being done, moved in her sleep.

Before taking the child to her bosom, Walpurga breathed upon it thrice. It opened its eyes and looked at her, and then quickly closed them again.

Throughout the palace, all was soon hushed in silence. Walpurga and the child by her side were asleep. Mademoiselle Kramer sat up during the night, and, in the antechamber on either side, there were doctors and servants within call.