The king returned from the hunt. His courageous wanderings among the Highlands had reinvigorated him. He, too, was in a changed frame of mind. He had already received a full account of what had happened at the lake. "That's over," thought he; "I can't always be dragging the past about with me."

He was informed that the queen had not left her apartments since the receipt of the dreadful news. He sent for Gunther, who informed him of the queen's condition, and recommended that she be treated with great indulgence.

The king fancied that the doctor's manner was more reserved than usual. He would have liked to ask him as to the queen's thoughts, how she had received the sad news, and whether she had conquered her grief; but it was Gunther's duty to tell him all this, without waiting to be questioned. At last, the king asked him:

"Is the queen's mind composed?"

"It is noble and beautiful as ever," replied Gunther.

"Has she been reading of late? Did she send for the court chaplain?"

"Not to my knowledge, Your Majesty."

The king, who, at other times, found the observance of etiquette so convenient, now found it irksome.

He would have liked the doctor to speak of his own accord, and explain much that was yet unclear, instead of simply answering the questions put to him.

"You have had a great trial; in Count Eberhard, you lost an old friend."

"He lives in my memory, just as he did before he died," replied Gunther.

The king's heart was filled with anger. He had been very friendly in his advances toward this man, had even inquired after an event in his private life, and yet Gunther, while preserving perfect decorum, remained as reserved and as repelling as ever.

His old aversion toward this man, who, in the midst of the excitement at court, always remained unmoved, was again aroused. He dismissed Gunther, with a gracious wave of his hand; but when he had gone, his eye followed him with a sinister expression.

A thought occurred to him which made his cheeks glow, and determined him upon another line of action. It was now clear to him that the real cause of his misstep lay in the fact that a third person had stood between him and his wife. This should no longer be the case, no matter how well it was meant. Instead of asking Gunther for information as to his wife's thoughts and feelings, she should tell him all, in person and alone. He felt a deep affection for her, and thought that, since he had conquered so much within himself, he was again worthy of her.

The king sent for Countess Brinkenstein. Since the sad occurrence, the king had only moved among men, by whom affairs of this nature are treated more lightly and, in fact, are scarcely alluded to. And now, for the first time, he stood face to face with a woman; one indeed in whom a noble mind was combined with the most orthodox observance of court etiquette. The king's demeanor was dignified, although his heart trembled with emotion.

"We have had sad experiences," said he to her.

With great tact, Countess Brinkenstein managed to turn the conversation into another channel and thus avert any explanation on the king's part. She thought it unbecoming a king to justify himself or to show himself weak or perplexed; and, besides that, she regarded it as the duty of those about him, to smooth over all that was unpleasant as gracefully as possible.

The king appreciated her considerateness. He asked her whether she had often seen the queen during the last few days, and who was now waiting on her. The countess informed him that she had only once been with the queen, who had expressed a wish in regard to his royal highness the crown prince.

"Ah, how is the prince?" asked the king. During all these days, he had scarcely thought of his child, and now, as if with renewed consciousness of the fact, he remembered that he had a son.

"Remarkably well," replied the countess, who went on to name the various ladies and gentlemen of the court who were now in attendance upon her majesty the queen. No one had seen her during the last few days, except Madame Leoni, who had been with her constantly, and the doctor, who had conversed with her for hours.

The king gave orders to have the prince brought into his apartments. He kissed the boy, whose round and delicate little hand played with his father's face.

"Thou shalt honor thy father--if I could only wipe away that one reproach," said he to himself.

He felt as if his child's touch had endowed him with new strength, and was about to proceed to the queen's apartments when Schnabelsdorf was announced. The king was obliged to remain and receive him.

The prime minister informed him that the result of all the elections was now known, and that his position would be a difficult one, for the majority had been on the side of the opposition.

The king shrugged his shoulders and said:

"We must await events."

Schnabelsdorf looked astounded at this indifference. What could have happened?

"There is only one new election necessary," said he. "Your Majesty is aware that Count Eberhard Wildenort was elected as a deputy?"

"I know," said the king. "Why mention this?"

Schnabelsdorf dropped his eyes and added: "I am informed that Colonel von Bronnen, Your Majesty's adjutant-general, whose name has already been mentioned in that connection, is to be brought forward as a candidate."

"Bronnen will refuse to stand," said the king.

Schnabelsdorf received this remark with an almost imperceptible bow. He had a presentiment of what was going on.

The king permitted his minister to inform him of what was most urgent, but begged him to be brief.

Schnabelsdorf was very brief.

The king dismissed him. His intention was to have Schnabelsdorf open the new chamber. If, as was to be expected, the majority were against him, Bronnen would form a new cabinet.

It was no slight struggle on the part of the king, to suffer that which ought to have emanated from his own will to appear as a yielding, on his part, to the popular voice; but he felt that it was the first real proof of his subjection to the law, and he meant to find his highest glory in giving expression to the voice of the people.

His new motto: "True and free," again impressed itself upon him. Calm and self-possessed, he repaired to the queen's apartments.