"All I ask of you is to have an eye on certain signs. Did the queen say nothing when she was before the church a little while ago and heard the mass? Wasn't she startled by a certain tone? Didn't you observe a certain inclination--"
By a motion of his hand, the doctor signified that Irma had better stop, and added:
"My child, if you desire to live comfortably at court, you had better not try to solve riddles which those to whom they belong don't care to solve for you. But, above all, let no one know--"
"Discretion, discretion; the same old text," said Irma, roguishly, her beautifully curved lips quivering with emotion.
"You are of a creative temperament, and are therefore out of place at court," said the doctor. "You desire to assert your individuality, instead of giving way to prescribed forms; but it can't be done. Just observe Councilor Schnabelsdorf, who will be used up much sooner than he imagines. He is constantly offering or preparing something new--cooking, roasting, or stewing all sorts of interesting information for his masters--and his memory is an everlasting 'table, table, cover thyself.' Take my word for it, before a year goes round, they'll all be tired of him. He who wishes to remain a favorite must not thrust himself forward."
Irma assented to this opinion, but saw through his attempt to change the direction of the conversation, and at once returned to what she had intended to say.
"Pray tell me," said she roguishly, "when one takes a false step, and, at the same time, injures himself, is it not called a misstep?"
"Certainly."
"Well, then, let me tell you that the queen is in danger of making a misstep, which may be fraught with irreparable injury to her--"
"I'd prefer--" interrupted the doctor.