"And just as I now rest my hands upon your head and would fain place them on all your thoughts, do you ever remain true unto yourself. I would like to give you all my thoughts, but, for the present, keep this one in your memory: Indulge in no pleasures but those which you can remember with pleasure. Take this kiss--you kiss passionately--may you never give a kiss in which your soul is less pure than at this moment. Farewell!"
The father turned away and walked up the mountain road. He did not look back again.
Irma looked after him, trembling and feeling as if something drew her toward home and bade her remain there forever. But she felt ashamed of her indecision; she thought of the next hour and of how strange it would seem to the servants and to her father, to see her trunks unpacked and all the preparation for the journey undone. No, it was too late, and she went on. She seated herself in the carriage and was soon on her journey. She was no longer her own mistress; a strange power had taken possession of her.
It was on the following day, at noon, that Irma reached the summer palace. All was quiet; no one came to meet her but the old steward, who hurriedly laid aside his long pipe.
"Where are their highnesses?" asked the courier.
"They dine at the Devil's Pulpit to-day."
From the garden, there resounded a cry.
"Oh, my countess! My countess is here!" exclaimed Walpurga, kissing Irma's hands and weeping for joy. "Now we'll have sunshine! Now we'll have day!"
Irma quieted the excited woman, who said:
"I'll go and tell the queen at once. She's the only one at home, and is up on yonder hill, painting; she doesn't care to go on these holiday excursions, and here every day seems a holiday."