"IRMA. "P.S.--I shall take no excuse; you must come. In return, I promise to go to your wedding. Many greetings to all of yours, and, above all, to your Albrecht." The sun was already sinking toward the horizon, when Irma, accompanied by her maid, departed for Wildenort. CHAPTER IX. So one can go away, after all, and leave the motley monotony called "the world" behind. Farewell, thou palace, and furnish thy inmates with their daily pleasures. Farewell, ye streets, filled with shops and offices, towers and churches, theaters, music halls and barracks. May fashion be gracious and favor you with customers, clients, guests, applause, and fostering laws. Vanish, frail frippery! I feel like a bird flying from the housetop, out into the wide world. How foolish to remain in the cage when the door is always open. Thou, great bailiff who holds the world captive--thy name is custom! Thus thought Irma to herself, while seated in the carriage and driving out into the open world. Her thoughts again recurred to the great house which she had just left. It was the dinner hour and they were waiting for the queen to appear. What a pity that the lord steward had not been present at the creation of the world, for here every one has his fixed place and the service is simply perfect. The queen expresses her regrets at the departure of Countess Irma. All praise her. "Oh, she's so very good," says one. "And so merry," says another. "Somewhat unmanageable, but very amiable," says still another. But what is there new? It's a bore to be talking of one subject all the time. Help! Zamiel Schnabelsdorf! "Away with it all!" exclaimed Irma, suddenly: "I shall not look back again, but forward to my father." The horses stepped out bravely, as if they knew they were carrying a child to her father. Irma was so impatient that she told the servant who was seated on the box, to give a double fee to the driver so that they might get on faster. She could hardly wait until she saw her father, so anxious was she to rest her head upon his breast. What did she desire? To complain to him? How could he help her? She knew not. All she knew was that, with him, there must be peace. She wished to be sheltered, protected; no longer alone. To obey him and anticipate his every wish would be her highest happiness. To be released from herself, and to desire nothing that did not minister to the joy of another--oh, how happy the thought! The whole earthly load is removed. Thus must it be with the blessed spirits above! Thus should we imagine angels to be! They want for nothing and need nothing, they never change and never grow, are neither young nor old. They are eternal, and are ever laboring for and through others. Their works bring joy to the world and to themselves. They are the undying rays of an eternal sun.