After he had repeated this three or four times his mood brightened visibly. He began to whistle a favourite tune, then he went and looked at a large likeness of the queen hanging on the wall. He got up on a chair and took out his handkerchief to brush off a cobweb hanging down straight over the queen’s nose, and at last he said—
“She must have been very much put out, the dear little woman! I will go and see what she is doing!”
With that he went out into the hall, into which all the rooms opened. But this being a day on which everything went wrong, the valet had forgotten to light the lamps, although it was already eight o’clock, and moreover pitch dark.
So the king put out his hands before him so as not to bump his royal head, and cautiously felt his way along the wall. Suddenly he came upon something. “Who is there?” he asked.
“It is I,” answered the queen.
“What are you looking for, my love?”
“I was coming to ask your forgiveness,” replied the queen, “because I hurt your feelings.”
“You needn’t do that!” said the king, putting his arms about her neck. “The fault was more mine than yours, and I don’t give it another thought. But I’ll tell you one thing: two words shall be forbidden on pain of death in our kingdom, Jew’s-harp and——”
“And ginger-nuts,” the queen interrupted him, laughing and secretly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye; and that is the end of the story.
Professor Volkmann (1830-1891).