"I understand; it's just the same as if, in your heart, you were always saying a mass for the repose of their souls."
"That's it, exactly."
Irma thought of repeating this conversation to the queen. But, no; she would tell it to the king. His was a truly poetic and exalted conception of all things. Irma had accustomed herself to tell the king all that happened to her. She spoke to him of all her thoughts, and of every book that she read, and thus found all her experiences invested with a twofold interest. He was so grateful, so appreciative, so happy, and was, moreover, so burdened down with the cares of state that it was a duty to cheer him with other thoughts.
At the summer palace, the trees were covered with snow and the windows were protected with straw; but in the palace at the capital, pleasure reigned supreme. Here all was fragrance, splendor, glitter, and, in Bruno's house, it seemed as if the feasting would never end. The court had honored the opening fête with their presence, and, throughout the city, all spoke of the queen's great kindness, in visiting a sister-in-law of so peculiar a kind, and of her having, in the most affable and friendly manner, actually sat on the same sofa with her. The old baroness had also wished to attend the first fête given by her children, but, having been informed that, in that case, the queen would not come, she remained at her castle in the little country town.
Arabella had written to Bruno's father. Her husband had not forbidden her doing so, but he had told her, beforehand, that she would receive no answer. He had every reason to feel assured of this, for he had never forwarded the letter.
Irma consoled her, and found it painful to offer such a description of her father's peculiarities as would satisfactorily account for his silence. It seemed like treachery, but she could not help it, for why should the poor child be made to suffer. But fête succeeded fête with such rapidity, that the father, the whilom dancer--aye, even her own thoughts, were soon forgotten.
The Chamber of Deputies was not far from the royal stables, and, while the delegates were heatedly discussing so-called decisive questions, the royal riding school was the scene of a rehearsal for a tournament in the knightly costume of the Middle Ages. Prince Arnold who, as the story went, was wooing princess Angelica, was chief of the gentlemen, and Irma of the ladies.
Although it was merely by accident that the tournament opened on the evening of the day on which the Chamber was dissolved, the circumstance occasioned much ironical comment throughout the capital.
Irma was the central figure in the brilliant scene. When she entered the royal box, the king lavished loud praise upon her beauty and skill.
The queen added her praises to his and said: