Never yet had he felt on such an intimate footing with her as he did to-day. He looked only at her, he thought only of her. Amid the buzz of conversation, amid the sound of the music, he listened to every word that fell from her lips. Whenever he approached her he felt a glow of transport. In plucking a leaf from a tree, the lace of her sleeve passed over his face, and the touch of the delicate texture brought the color into his cheeks. Her hand rested a moment on his as she offered him a ladybird, and the slight pressure made his heart beat fast.
"The ladybird knows your Highness's future," said Ilse. "You should ask it: Ladybird, ladybird, shall I be happy long?--one year, two years? and so forth, till it flies away."
The Prince began the sentence, but had not arrived at the first year when it flew away.
"That does not apply to you," said Ilse, laughing, to console him. "The little creature was angry at me yet."
"I had rather bear the misfortune myself," said the Prince, in a low tone, "than that you should suffer it."
While Ilse, startled at the deep meaning of his words, turned to the ladies, he stealthily picked up the kerchief that had fallen from her shoulders, and, behind a tree, pressed it to his lips.
Still merrier did the young people become, when from the hut behind the bushes two men stepped forth with red-coats and drums, and invited them to try their skill at the popinjay. The Chamberlain took the superintendence of the boys, and Ilse of the girls; foresters and lackeys helped with the cross-bows; the arrows struck incessantly on the body of the bird, for the hitting was made easy, and those who did not win could admire the prizes, which were arranged on two tables. Everything went on smoothly, as is fitting at Court fêtes; the lackeys moved incessantly among the company, with every imaginable refreshment; the splints from the popinjays fell like hail, and the Prince distributed the prizes to the children who thronged round him. Bertha Raschke became queen of tournament, and a little son of the Consistorial Councillor her consort. The children, carrying their presents, followed the drummers with joyous shouts up to a long table, where a supper was prepared for them. They were to sit down with the king and queen in the middle. The foresters and lackeys served the different courses. The Chamberlain could not have devised anything better to please the parents; and the fathers walked behind the chairs and enjoyed seeing the little ones drinking harmless wine out of the crystal glasses, their rosy faces expressing delighted astonishment at the beautiful china and silver dishes. They soon became merry; finally the little Consistorial Councillor proposed the health of the Prince; all the children cried "Hurrah!" the drummers drummed, the music struck up, and the parents stood round thanking the giver of the feast. Ilse brought a garland of wild flowers which the ladies had woven, and begged permission of the Prince to put it upon him. He stood amidst the happy party elevated by the innocent joy of all around him, and by the respectful attachment which was visible on all countenances. He looked at Ilse with silent thanks, and without apparent cause his eyes filled with tears. Again the children screamed out "Hurrah!" and the drums beat.
A horseman in strange livery galloped out of the wood; the Chamberlain, in consternation, approached the Prince, and handed him a letter with a black seal. The Prince hastened into the tent, and the Chamberlain followed him.
The wild flowers had brought the young gentleman no good fortune. The pleasure of the fête was over; the company stood in groups about the tent, uncertain and sympathizing. At last the Prince and the Chamberlain came out. While the latter turned to the Rector and to those who surrounded him. Ilse saw the Prince at her side with deep sorrow depicted on his countenance.
"I beg of you to excuse me to the ladies, as I am obliged to depart immediately: my sister's husband has died, after a short illness, and my poor sister is very unhappy." In great agitation, he continued: "I myself knew my brother-in-law only slightly, but he was very kind to my sister, and she felt happier with him than she had ever been in her life. She writes to me in despair, and the misfortune is for her quite inexpressible. Under existing circumstances she cannot remain in her present abode, and I foresee that she must return to us. It is our bitter fate always to be tossed about, never to remain quiet. I know that I shall meet with a similar misfortune. I feel myself happy here,--to you I can confess this,--and I regret to say that this death makes it very uncertain whether I shall ever return. I go to my sister tomorrow for a few days. Pray think of me kindly."