The queen breathed freely once more, and felt happy in the midst of this circle of good and gifted people.
Immediately after the play, Baum had hurried to Walpurga and told her: "Oh, what a play we've had. I wonder they allow them to play anything so free. There's a prince who's just about to marry a princess, and has an old love who's still good-looking. He wants to get rid of her and, in the mean while, tries to procure a new one who is very beautiful and whose marriage is to take place that very day. He has a chamberlain who is his friend, but whom he treats quite roughly if he doesn't bring him what he wants on the instant. He treats him as an inferior and calls him a fool one moment, and embraces him the next. So the chamberlain manages to have the bridegroom shot dead and the bride carried away. But, all at once, the old love comes and meets the father of Emilia Galotti and sets him on, and the father stabs his daughter, and she drops down dead."
"And what becomes of the prince and the chamberlain?" asked Walpurga.
"I don't know."
"Tell me once more," said Walpurga; "what was the bride's name?"
"There's the play-bill. It's all there."
Walpurga read the bill; the hand with which she held it trembled. There were names which the king and Irma had mentioned that day, when she had not understood a word of what they were saying.
"And so you've had that story performed. Oh you--The whole pack of you are--I know--"
Mademoiselle Kramer's' advice stood her in good stead. Walpurga did not venture to utter the thoughts that filled her mind.
On the following evening, there was a court concert. The large hall in the main building was crowded with men wearing gay uniforms and crosses of various orders, and richly dressed ladies. The select court circle were in the hall, and the guests in the adjoining apartments and galleries.