At table and in the social circle, the queen's behavior toward the king and Irma was more loving than ever. When she looked at her friend, she felt as if she ought to ask forgiveness for having, even for a moment, thought basely of her; but when she was alone she felt her soul carried away toward him and her. She longed to know what they were thinking of, what they were doing or saying.--They were speaking of her, smiling at and ridiculing her. Who knows? perhaps wishing her dead.
She, indeed, wished that she were dead.
CHAPTER X.
"I'm going to the theater this evening," said Baum to Walpurga, in the afternoon of the 22d of January. "They're going to play a great piece. What a pity you can't go, too."
"I've seen enough of masquerading," replied Walpurga. "I shall stay with my child. He's the only one in the whole court who can't disguise himself."
Every seat in the court theater was occupied long before the beginning of the play, and the lively talking among the audience seemed like the roar of the sea. Many wondered at the words on the play-bill:
"In Commemoration of Lessing's Birthday
EMILIA GALOTTI
BY ROYAL COMMAND."
They spoke in hints, but understood each other perfectly. Was the performance intended to refute certain rumors? Would the court attend, and who would form the suite?
Three dull knocks were heard. They were the signal that the court had entered the passage leading from the palace to the theater. Every eye, every opera-glass was directed to the royal box.
The queen entered, radiant with youthful beauty. The nobles who occupied the first tier arose. She bowed graciously, and then sat down, and attentively read the playbill that was fastened to the front of the box. The king entered soon after and took the seat beside her. He, too, saluted the nobles who were still standing, and who seated themselves at the same time he did, just as if they were part of himself.