Walpurga roamed about through the beautiful park as if in a dream. She imagined that the trees, the sky and the birds were all enchanted and in a strange world; that they would suddenly awaken and all would vanish. But everything went on in its quiet course, each day as beautiful as the one that preceded, like the sun rising anew every day, the flowers that are constantly giving forth their fragrance, or the spring that never ceases to flow.
Walpurga had a special liking for Mademoiselle Kramer's father, who was governor of the castle. He was a venerable man who raised lovely flowers in his little lodge, and she could talk to him as with her own father.
Walpurga was sitting out of doors for the greater part of the day. Mademoiselle Kramer was always with her and two servants within ready call. The queen would also often join them.
The queen had a beautiful snow-white setter of which the child was especially fond. Walpurga requested her to let the prince often have the dog, because it is well for a child to have a living animal about it.
"She is right," said the queen, addressing the court lady at her side; "animal life awakens human consciousness."
Walpurga stared at her in surprise. The queen had said she was right, but added words that she did not understand.
"Just look," said she to the queen, "how fond the bees are of our child. They won't hurt him--you needn't fear. The bee is the only creature that came out of paradise without being spoiled."
The queen manifested her pleasure at the manner in which Walpurga's thoughts were, interwoven with tradition.
Walpurga observed that the queen had but little worldly wisdom and gave her the benefit of hers whenever opportunity presented itself.
"Do you know what that is?" she once asked, while they sat in the shrubbery.