"Yes, indeed; that makes one look at the world with different eyes. His majesty told the truth that time." Although her remark caused the king to smile, it was received in silence. Accompanied by Doctor Gunther, he soon left the room. After they had gone. Mademoiselle Kramer endeavored, as delicately as possible, to impress Walpurga with the importance of observing the first commandment: "You must not speak to their majesties, unless they ask you a question." "That's sensible," exclaimed Walpurga, to the great surprise of Mademoiselle Kramer. "That prevents you from hearing anything out of the way. What a clever idea! I won't forget that." During breakfast, in the pavilion, it was plainly to be seen that Mademoiselle Kramer, and perhaps Walpurga, too, had spoken truly. The various groups on the veranda and under the orange-trees were engaged in what seemed to be confidential conversation. After they had sounded each other, and had satisfied themselves that they could safely indulge in scandal, the common topic was the manner in which the queen's sentimentality had manifested itself in her behavior toward the nurse. It was agreed that this mawkishness was an unfortunate legacy from the house of ----. Some even went so far as to say that Countess Brinkenstein was quite ill with anger at the queen's disregard of etiquette. "The queen's conduct deprives her favors of their value," said an elderly court lady, who must have had at least a pound and a half of false hair on her head. "Nothing is so great a bore as mawkish sensibility," observed another one of the ladies attached to the palace. She was corpulent, and piously inclined withal. As if to cover her ill-natured remark with the mantle of charity, she added: "The queen isn't much more than a child, and really means well at heart." She had thus made herself safe with both parties--those who praised, and those who abused the queen. "You look as if you had slept but little," said an elderly lady, addressing a very young and pale-looking one. "You are right," sighed the latter, in reply. "I sat up to read the last volume of ----" giving the name of a recent unequivocal French novel--"and finished it at a single sitting. I shall return the book to you to-day. It is very interesting." "Please let me have it next," resounded from several quarters at once. The pious lady, who had, indeed, read the novel in secret and was loth to talk of such subjects, changed the conversation by introducing the topic of Walpurga. As the latest piece of news, she acquainted them with the report that the nurse could sing beautifully. "Who sings beautifully?" inquired Countess Irma, joining the group. "This will interest you, dear Wildenort. You will be able to learn many new songs from Walpurga, and accompany them on the zither." "I'll wait until we are in the country again. A peasant woman seems strangely out of place in a palace. When does the court return to the country?" "Not for six weeks."