Forgiveness -- Fiction; Guilt -- Fiction; Love -- Fiction
There was much talk about Walpurga. One lady maintained that Doctor
Gunther was a native of the Highlands, and that it was only through his
intriguing that a nurse had to be brought from the same region; that he
was constantly surrounding himself with allies, and was clever enough
to know that this person would exert a great influence upon the queen.
They also spoke of the doctor's love of intrigue, and of his affecting
to sympathize with the queen in all her extravagant fancies. Of one
thing they all felt assured: that it was impossible to retain the favor
of the court for so long a time, by fair means alone.
"The doctor isn't so very old," remarked a very thin lady. "He is only
a little over fifty. I think he must have dyed his hair white, in order
to appear venerable before his time."
Loud laughter greeted this sally.
Before breakfast, the ladies and gentlemen were in separate groups. A
knot of courtiers were discussing the telegrams which had been sent out
to various governments, and to which, in some instances, replies had
already been received.
It was not until after breakfast that a council of the royal household
was to determine who, besides the queen's parents, should be invited to
stand as sponsors. It was even reported that the christening would be
celebrated by a special papal nuncio, assisted by the bishop.
Countess Irma's brother, the king's aid-de-camp, again diverted the
conversation from such lofty topics back to Walpurga. He extolled her
beauty and her droll ways, and they smacked their lips, when they spoke
of the queen's kiss. The aid-de-camp had given vent to a joke on the
subject, at which they laughed uproariously.
"The king!" suddenly whispered several of the gentlemen.
They separated and, while making their obeisance, arranged themselves
in two rows. The king, acknowledging their salutation, passed between
the rows and entered the hall of Diana, where breakfast was served. The
frescoes on the ceiling represented the goddess with her hunting train,
and had been painted by a pupil of Rubens. The lord steward handed a
packet of telegrams to the king, who instructed him to open them, and
inform him when they contained anything more than congratulations.
They now sat down to breakfast.
The company was not so cheerful and unconstrained as it had been at the
summer palace. Indeed, no one had yet recovered from the excitement of
the previous night, and conversation was carried on in a quiet tone.
"Countess Irma," said the king, "I commend Walpurga to you; she will be
sure to please you. You will be able to learn some beautiful songs from
her, and to teach her new ones."
"Thanks, Your Majesty! If Your Majesty would only deign to order the
first lady of the bedchamber to grant me access, at all times, to the
apartments of His Royal Highness the crown prince."
"Pray see to it, dear Rittersfeld!" said the king, turning to the lord
steward.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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