The door flew open.
"I come to inquire," began his Highness, "how you bear your solitude. My house also has become empty, my children are gone from me, and it is lonely in the great building."
"I have employed my leisure in intercourse with distant friends," answered Ilse.
She would not on this occasion mention the children to the Sovereign.
"Are the little ones who play about in your home amongst these friends?" he asked laughing. "Have the children again expressed their wishes to you?"
He took a chair and invited Ilse to be seated. His demeanor made her more composed; his manner was that of a discreet and well-intentioned person.
"Yes, your Highness," replied Ilse; "but this time my younger sister, Luise, was the most active correspondent."
"Does she promise to become like you?" asked the Sovereign, kindly.
"She is now twelve years old," replied Ilse, with reserve; "she is sentimental upon every subject and every blade of grass excites her fancy. It appears as if she were to be the poetess of the play-room. I do not know how these fantastical ideas have come into our family. In her letter she tells me a long story, as if it had happened to herself, and yet it is only a tale which she has read somewhere. For since I have left my home, more story-books have reached it than were there in my youth."
"Probably it is only childish vanity," said the Sovereign, kindly, "that leads her to substitute an invention for truth."