"It was dark," she said, "and we were asleep, Fritz and I, and we both dreamed the same dream. We thought that we were walking in a beautiful garden, where there were trees, and flowers, and butterflies, and wide cascades of water, in which rainbows were shining; and while we were playing there, and were very happy chasing the butterflies, the Herr Tutor, who was an angel, and who went to heaven, came and took us by the hand; and, when we saw his face, we knew that he is an angel now; and he led us through the garden, and talked to us of many things—of God, and of angels, and of heaven—just as he used to do. But I saw that, though he talked so pleasantly, he was leading us out of this pleasant garden, and the flowers grew dim, and the butterflies flew away, and the sky became very dark. And he led us quite out of the garden into a burial-ground, where there were tombs, and open graves, and crosses, and tall dark trees that bore no flower; and the Herr Tutor told us not to be afraid, and led us on through the graves without speaking any more. He led us into the midst of the burial-ground, and in the midst of the burial-ground there was a Calvary, and at the foot of the Calvary there was a bier. And on the bier we saw you and papa lying quite straight and still, and we thought that you were dead. And the Herr Tutor vanished away; and we were so frightened that we cried. And we knelt side by side, and prayed to the Christ that He would come down. And the Christ came down from the cross, and came to the bier, and touched it, and you and papa stood up beautiful and smiling, and came towards us with outstretched hands, and the Christ vanished away. And we were so glad that we awoke; and it was dark, and there was no Christ, and no Herr Tutor, who is an angel, and no papa, and no one to tell us what to do or where to go."
As the little Princess ceased some servants came in, with whispered explanations and apologies. The Princess went to her own room. She had not known what to say to the child; indeed, she hardly knew what had passed. She allowed herself to be undressed, and lay down.
But, in the deep silence of the hours that preceded the dawn, an overpowering restlessness took possession of her. A sense of strange forces and influences, to which she was utterly unaccustomed, seemed present to her spirit: a crowd of fair and heavenly existences, which seemed to follow on the steps of that singular boy who had first attracted her wearied fancy, the Signorina's singing, which had stamped this impression upon her mind, the strange tenderness she had been conscious of, the renewed sense of her husband's grace and beauty, his alarming absence, her children's mystical dream. A new world seemed to open to her. She felt how poor and bare her life had been, how deserted by these gracious creatures of the imagination, how unblessed by the purest, the truest art—the art of pathos and of love.
With the streaks of dawn that stole into the chamber she was conscious of an irrepressible desire that took possession of her to rise and go forth. An irresistible power seemed to draw her to follow: she rose, and, dressing herself in such clothes as were at hand, she went out.
The house itself was quite still, but faintly in the distance might be heard the sound of a bell. In so religious a Court as that of Vienna there were private chapels attached to most of the houses of the nobility, and there was one attached to a neighbouring palace, to which there was a private communication with the Hôtel taken by the Prince.
Following the sound of the bell the Princess traversed several passages, and reached at last a staircase, down which she turned. As she reached the first landing two women came out from an open door. They started at the sight of the Princess. They were the Princess Isoline and Faustina.
"Is it you, Princess?" said the former. "What has called you up so early?"
"Are you going to the chapel, Isoline?" said the Princess. "May I come with you?"
The three ladies entered the chapel by a private door, which led them to a pew behind the stalls. Upon the original Gothic stone-work and tracery of the chapel, which was very old, had been introduced rococo work in mahogany and brass, angels and trumpets and scrolls. The stalls and organs were covered with filigree work of this description, the windows filled with paintings in the same florid and incongruous taste. There were few persons in the chapel, most of them being ladies from the adjoining palaces, together with a few musicians, for the musical part of the service was carefully performed by a large and well-paid staff.