Trembling with agitation, he pressed his clenched hand against his brow. His cheeks burned, while his limbs shook with a feverish chill. God be thanked, she still lives! The guilt of death is lifted from my soul; and she, too, will see what I have suffered, and what I have become--
During the last few moments, he had lived the secret torments of past years over again. He now looked about him, as if emerging from another world. There had been no earthquake; the trees, the houses, the mountains still stood in their old places. He looked at Bronnen and, offering his icy cold hand, whispered almost inaudibly:
"And so the presentiment that you expressed at the hunting-seat, is true."
His voice was thick. He ordered fresh saddle-horses and a second carriage to be sent after him.
A few moments later, Bronnen and he were following in the wake of the queen.
CHAPTER XIX.
The queen rode up the mountain, while Walpurga walked on by her side. The sun was already sinking in the west. Its slanting rays shone through the tree-tops and on the road which Gunther and the little pitchman had taken on the night before, and there were now but few signs of the rivulets that had yesterday traversed the path.
The queen did not utter a word, but she often gazed at Walpurga, and many old memories and associations were awakened in her mind. There, walking along beside me, is a woman who was brought from her home at my request. In those days, when, with the king and Gunther, I was sitting under the weeping ash, I was gentle and forgiving toward the fallen, and Gunther said I deserved that thousands should pray for me. Did I really deserve it then? Do I deserve it now? At that time, no one had ever offended or injured me, and it was easy to appear forgiving. But as soon as I was wronged, I gave way to scorn and hatred, and pride in my own virtue, and encouraged myself in that feeling. He changed his whole life, put all that was trivial and vain away from him, and devoted his whole mind to faithful labors for the sake of his people, while I became more and more austere and inflexible just because I was so virtuous. Are you so virtuous, after all? What is the virtue that lives for itself alone? And she who erred so bitterly; has she not expiated still more bitterly? Sinner though she be, she stands far above me. She died for my sake, and yet what has her death profited me? I have left my husband to achieve his difficult work unaided and alone, deserted him in the hour of greatest need. I have lived for myself alone, for to live for my child was to live for myself. I have had charity for the poor and helpless. But how as to my first duty? I could not conquer myself--and am I the one who dares say that I am capable of the highest, and "if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out?" Gunther was right. No one can save you but yourself, for no one else can so often tell you the truth.
During the many years in which she has been striving to perfect herself, and in which he has strengthened himself in noble deeds for his people, what have I been doing? It is I who have sinned. You shall not die, Irma! You must still live, so that I can tell you that I am lost if you die without having forgiven me.
The queen gladly gave way to these thoughts, for they gradually lightened the burden which had so long exerted a depressing influence upon her.