"You've been crying?" asked the queen.
"It was for joy, nothing but joy. Could anything be more beautiful than the way you stood together there?"
"I'll have your husband come to you," replied the queen; "write him to come, and say that your mother and child may come too."
"Yes, dear queen, it would be very nice, but it would cost a pretty penny." Surprised that any one was obliged to deny himself a pleasure, because of the expense, the queen looked up and said:
"Go to the paymaster and get the money. Would a hundred florins be enough?"
"Oh! More than enough! But if the queen would give me the money, we could make better use of it."
The queen looked at Walpurga, as if shocked to think that, even in simple hearts, avarice can destroy the noblest emotions.
Walpurga observed the change in the queen's expression and said:
"I'll tell you, honestly, why I don't want it, even if it cost nothing. My husband's a good man, but he's just a little bit awkward, and it would grieve him to the heart if any one were to laugh at him. And it would be too much to expect of mother, for she's over sixty years old, and hasn't been out of the village since her wedding-day--that is, not farther than Hohenheiligen, three miles from our place, where she went on a pilgrimage. Though it would only be a day's journey, she hasn't even once gone home in all that time; and so I think it might do her harm if she were taken anywhere else, even it were only for a few days. The best thing would be if we could all of us remain near the king. I'm sure we'd take good care of the dairy-farm. My husband knows all about cattle; he was cowboy for many years, and, afterward, herdsman on the mountain meadows."
Walpurga spoke as if the queen knew all about the plan, but the queen was so possessed with the thought of her domestic happiness, that she did not hear a word of what was said.