That was unheard of--and at the same time, after all that had gone before, so logically consequential, that any surprise or disgust would have been idiotic. The motto for the day was to be prepared for anything in the way of omens and phenomena. But after supper, when the Grand Duke had withdrawn and Princess Griseldis had opened the cotillon with a Chamberlain, expectation was again raised to fever point, for the general question was, had the Prince been allowed to present Miss Spoelmann with a bouquet? His instructions had obviously been not to give her the first. He had first given one each to his Aunt Catherine and a red-haired cousin; but he had then advanced towards Imma Spoelmann with a bouquet of lilac from the Court gardens. As she was about to raise the lovely bunch to her nose, she had hesitated for some unknown reason with a look of apprehension, and it was not till he had encouraged her with a laugh and a nod that she decided to test the fragrance of the bouquet. Then they had danced and chatted quietly together for a long time. And yet it was during this dance that that unnoticed duologue, that conversation of a palpably bourgeois tenor and practical result, had taken place--and this is what it was. "Are you satisfied this time, Imma, with the flowers I bring you?" "Of course, Prince, your lilac is lovely and smells quite as it should. I love it." "Really, Imma? But I'm sorry for the poor rose-bush down in the court, because its roses disgust you with their mouldy smell." "I won't say that they disgust me, Prince." "But they disenchant and chill you, don't they?" "Yes, perhaps." "But have I ever told you of the popular belief that the rose-bush will one day be redeemed, on a day of general happiness, and will bear roses which will add to their great beauty the gift of a lovely natural scent?" "Well, Prince, we'll have to wait for that." "No, Imma, we must help and act! We must decide, and have done with all hesitation, little Imma! Tell me--tell me to-day--have you confidence in me?" "Yes, Prince. I have gained confidence in you latterly." "There you are! Thank heaven! Didn't I say that I must succeed in the long run? And so you think now that I am in earnest, real, serious earnest about you and about us?" "Yes, Prince; latterly I have thought that I can think so." "At last, at last, irresolute little Imma! Oh, how I thank you, I thank you! But in that case you're not afraid, and will let the whole world know that you belong to me?" "Let them know that you belong to me, Royal Highness, if it's all the same to you." "That I will, Imma, loudly and surely. But only on one condition, namely, that we don't only think of our own happiness in a selfish and frivolous way, but regard it all from the point of view of the Mass, the Whole. For the public weal and our happiness, you see, are interdependent."