"You were also a true friend of hers. There were few--indeed, there was no one--who she honored and esteemed as she did you. Her constant wish was that we should be more closely united."
Bronnen drew a long breath. There was no occasion for his saying anything. The king offered him his cigar case.
"Ah, you don't smoke," he said.
There was another long pause, which was at last broken by the king's asking:
"How long had you known Countess Irma?"
"From childhood. She was the friend of my cousin Emma, with whom she was at the convent."
"It comforts me to be able to speak to you of our friend. You understood her character. It was great, almost supernaturally so. Suffer me to inherit your friendship for her."
"Your Majesty--" replied Bronnen with constrained composure; for his heart was boiling with indignation at the man who had corrupted this noble creature and had driven her to self-destruction. But his military feeling of respect for his superiors held him in check.
"Ah, dearest Bronnen!" continued the king, "no death has ever affected me so. Did she ever speak to you of death? She hated it. And yet, when I look about me, all is life. When a great heart ceases to beat, the whole world should pause, though it were but for a moment. What are we, after all?"
"Each of us is but a small, limited portion of the world. Everything about us has its due sphere of development and right. We are masters only of ourselves, and how few of us can claim to be even that!"