"But here, in the great world, you are only a child. A court is a strange place. Some go hunting, others go fishing; one builds, another paints; one studies a _rôle_, another a piece of music; a dancer learns a new step, an author writes a new book. Every one in the land is doing something,--cooking or baking, drilling or practicing, writing, painting, or dancing--simply in order that the king and queen may be entertained." "I understand you," said Walpurga, and Mademoiselle Kramer continued: "My family has been in the service of the court for sixteen generations";--six would have been the right number, but sixteen sounded so much better;--"my father is the governor of the summer palace, and I was born there. I know all about the court, and can teach you a great deal." "And I'll be glad to learn," interposed Walpurga. "Do you imagine that every one is kindly disposed toward you? Take my word for it, a palace contains people of all sorts, good and bad. All the vices abound in such a place. And there are many other matters of which you have no idea and of which you will, I trust, ever remain ignorant. But all you meet are wondrous polite. Try to remain just as you now are, and, when you leave the palace, let it be as the same Walpurga you were when you came here." Walpurga stared at her in surprise. Who could change her? Word came that the queen was awake and desired Walpurga to bring the crown prince to her. Accompanied by Doctor Gunther, Mademoiselle Kramer and two waiting-women, she proceeded to the queen's bedchamber. The queen lay there, calm and beautiful, and, with a smile of greeting, turned her face toward those who had entered. The curtains had been partially drawn aside and a broad, slanting ray of light shone into the apartment, which seemed still more peaceful than during the breathless silence of the previous night. "Good-morning!" said the queen, with a voice full of feeling. "Let me have my child!" She looked down at the babe that rested in her arms and then, without noticing any one in the room, lifted her glance on high and faintly murmured: "This is the first time I behold my child in the daylight!" All were silent; it seemed as if there was naught in the apartment except the broad slanting ray of light that streamed in at the window. "Have you slept well?" inquired the queen. Walpurga was glad that the queen had asked a question, for now she could answer. Casting a hurried glance at Mademoiselle Kramer, she said: "Yes, indeed! Sleep's the first, the last, and the best thing in the world." "She's clever," said the queen, addressing Doctor Gunther in French. Walpurga's heart sank within her. Whenever she heard them speak French, she felt as if they were betraying her; as if they had put on an invisible cap, like that worn by the goblins in the fairy tale, and could thus speak without being seen. "Did the prince sleep well?" asked the queen.