Walpurga followed, feeling as if bereft--not only as if the clothes had been torn from her body, but as if the body had been rent from her soul. The child cried aloud, as if aware of what was taking place, but its voice was drowned by the tones of the organ and choir. The whole church was filled with a mighty volume of sound, which descended from the gallery and was echoed back from the floor beneath, like sullen, muttering thunder. Involuntarily, Walpurga fell on her knees at the altar--there was no need to order her to do so.
Choir, organ and orchestra burst forth with a mighty volume of sound, and Walpurga, overwhelmed with awe and surprise, imagined that the end of the world had come and that the painted angels on the ceiling,--aye, the very pillars, too--were swelling the heavenly harmonies.
Suddenly all was silent again.
The child received its names. One would not suffice: there were eight; a whole section of the calendar had been emptied for its benefit.
But from that moment until she reached her room, Walpurga knew nothing of what had happened.
When she found herself alone with Mademoiselle Kramer, she asked:
"Well, and what am I to call my prince?"
"None of us know. He has three names until he succeeds to the throne, when he himself selects one, under which he reigns, and which is stamped on the coins."
"I've something to tell you," said Walpurga, "and mind you don't forget it. You must send me the first ducat you have stamped with your name and your picture! See! he gives me his hand on it!" cried she, exultingly, when the child stretched out its little hand as if to grasp hers. "Oh, you dear Sunday child! Let the first lady of the bedchamber say it's superstition--it's true, for all. I'm a cow and you're a Sunday child, and Sunday children understand the language of the beasts. But that's only once a year--at midnight on Christmas eve. But as you're a prince, I'm sure you can do more than the rest."
Walpurga was called into the queen's apartment, the dazzling beauty of which suggested a glittering cavern in fairy-land. All was quiet; here nothing was heard of the noisy, bustling crowd overhead. The queen said: