"It was given to thee to live the highest life and then die; to force death to do your bidding. But I cannot do so. I do not live for myself alone!" said he, apostrophizing his friend, and feeling as if a new source of life flowed forth from the depths of his grief.
"And this is thy work," said an inner voice, while his thoughts were of the dead. "In all that's good, your spirit will ever abide with me. Without thee--I would confess it to God, were I now to appear before him--I should never have discovered the deepest springs of my being. If I only knew of some deed which could serve as a fit memorial of thy life."
The king again remembered that the lackey was waiting for him. He felt annoyed that there was not an hour he could call his own, in which to calm his agitated feelings, and, for the first time in his life, it flashed upon him: He who commands the services of others, has duties to them, too. They lead a life of their own, extending beyond the time and act of service.
The influence of Irma's last words seemed to hover over his soul like a mist.
He returned to his cabinet. Baum was still standing where he had left him, as silent and as quiet as if he were a chair or table.
"When did you leave there?" asked the king.
Baum told him all.
"You must be fatigued," said the king.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Well then, take a rest. Anything else you may know, you must tell no one but myself--do you understand?"