"Not yet," replied Gunther, gently breaking the news to Bruno.
Bruno turned away, hurriedly gathered up several letters that were lying on the table and locked them up in his desk. He was soon ready to go with Gunther to Irma, to whom they broke the sad news as gently as possible.
"I knew it! I knew it!" cried Irma. Not another word escaped her. She went into her bedchamber and threw herself on the bed; but she had hardly touched the pillow before she sprang up as if thrust back, and then knelt on the floor and swooned away. When she returned to the reception room, her features wore a fixed, rigid expression. She gave hurried orders to her servant and her maid to prepare for the journey. The doctor withdrew, in order to ask for leave of absence, and promised to procure leave for Irma, too.
"You ought to bid adieu to the queen, before you go," said Bruno.
"No, no!" cried Irma vehemently. "I cannot; I will not."
There was no servant in the antechamber. There was a knock at the door. Irma started. "Was the king coming?"
"Come in!" said Bruno. Madame Gunther entered.
Irma could not utter a word, but her eyes seemed to ask: "You here? and now?"
Madame Gunther told her that she had heard the sad news, and would regard it as a proof of her friendship, if Irma would allow her to accompany her.
"Thank you, with all my heart," stammered Irma.