"And so-called good-nature," replied the king, "is often full of malice and intrigue. Weakness all at once fancies itself obliged to be very strong."
"We must be gentle for all that," replied Irma. Although they had spoken German before Walpurga, she had not understood a word of what they said.
"I admire the power of my spy," said the king, "and confess that I bow to her, in all humility. I would never have believed such greatness possible."
Irma nodded gently, and replied: "The hero is Hettore Gonzaga, but the true Emilia Galotti loves him with a power which is worthy of him."
"And the true Hettore is neither dilettante nor weakling, and needs no Marinelli."
The relation born of shame and passion received added strength through the cunning and intriguing opposition of the queen, for the choice of the proscribed play was regarded as part of a well-considered plan. It was like a breath of wind, which, instead of extinguishing the flame, fans it. Deep within their hearts, lurked the self-extenuating plea that the queen was not the pure angel she pretended to be.
"I am firmly convinced," said the king, "that Hippocrates conjured the fatal crystal cup into Nausikaa's hand."
"No, Your Majesty," replied Irma, eagerly, "Hippocrates is a thoroughly noble man; somewhat of a pedant, indeed, but too good and too wise to do anything like that."
The king soon left and, after he had gone, Walpurga said:
"Now, Countess, you might open every vein in my body and I couldn't repeat one word of what you've been saying. I don't understand a word of it."