"Is everything ready? We have no time to lose."
She bowed to Madame Gunther, and would gladly have embraced her, but could not.
Madame Gunther, who had never, before this, set foot in the palace, had only come to succor a ruined one. Never had the thought of herself so filled Irma with anguish and remorse, as when this embodiment of loving-kindness had held out her hand to her.
The thought that she no longer dared approach the pure pained her as if demons were tearing her to pieces. Her first impulse was to throw herself at Madame Gunther's feet.
She controlled herself, however, and, looking at her with a fixed gaze, passed on.
The parrot in the anteroom spread out its wings, as if it, too, wanted to go along, and screamed; "God keep you, Irma!"
As if veiled in a cloud, Irma walked through the corridor. At the palace gate, she met the king coming out of the park with Schnabelsdorf, who had a number of dispatches in his hand, and whose cheerful looks were owing to the news of victory which he had just received.
To Irma, the king and Schnabelsdorf seemed like misty forms. She wore a double black veil, for she did not care to gratify the idle curiosity of the court, by making a show of the face on which grief had done its work.
The king drew near. She could not remove her veil. He seemed far, far away. She heard his friendly and, of course, kind words, but she knew not what he said.
The king extended his hand to Gunther, then to Bruno, and, at last, to Irma. He pressed her hand tenderly, but she did not return the pressure.