"I am sorry, Irma, that you can't see yourself; you're enough to make one believe in miracles."
The king said nothing, but Irma felt his glance resting upon her. She could not conceive how it was that his glances and the queen's words did not destroy her. With an effort to regain her composure, she said:
"Ah, Your Majesty, I find my costume oppressive. A spirit should stay but a minute and then vanish in a burst of flame."
"There is a minute which is as eternity."
Irma had, indeed, felt a conscious pride in her beautiful appearance, but now she experienced a higher joy. He who was so tall and handsome, a knight more perfect than fancy could devise, could give the kiss of eternity; for he alone, was the highest embodiment of the idea of royalty.
Irma scarcely noticed what was going on about her.
The royal couple passed on, and Irma, in spite of her splendid attire, felt as if deserted and forlorn. The king was no longer near her. In the distance she could still see him, radiant as a god.
Those who were near Irma, praised her ingenious and poetical costume. She did not hear a word of what was said. The queen sent for her. The king had wished the queen to open the ball with him, but she had declined. He always asked her, as a matter of form, but she never danced.
She now begged Irma to open the ball in her stead.
Irma bowed her thanks, but a proud feeling of superiority filled her breast. "You have nothing to give me. It is I who am giving. It is I who am renouncing. He is mine. The priest gave him to you; nature has given him to me. You are a tender, delicate flower, but we are eagles, who soar into the clouds."