Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, October 11, 1903, Page 28

The (Copyright, 1203, by J. W. Muller.) In the Royml Palace. CHAPTER XIX. ARRIVED here in the middle of the the night. I did not wish to give opportunity to show me they do not cheer me any more. But [ had to come here. I had to thank the King. I may be unbrotherly at times, but I must never he impolite, His Majesty really showed himself to Le uncommonly gractous in my great affair. At 11 o'clock I am to be received in au- dience by His Majesty the King. At noon I am to appear before Her Majesty the Queen. At 12:30 there will be luncheon with Her Majosty, the Queen Mother In the afternoon | must se: His Excellency. the minister of state. Then [ am expected to half the Court world, but I shall receive not a soul. After that there will he afternoon with the young Queen, then a drive, then family dinner in honor of the proddigal son, who has not, howey er, re turned home; then the play. to which [ probably shall not go, although our tirst sentimental lady is to appear there I have dispensed as much as possible with the Count's services, He may visit his sister and deseribe the Prince's bride to the proud lady. I know that my little Judica is In safe hands with him My little Judica' They overflow with ness toward me. of 4 pen stroke, write! The King received me so brother that my head devoured by the flames from the fiery that he placed on it. His Majesty em- braced me and kissed me fondly. [ had to sit down with His Majesty and (ell him of Judiea, receive tea affection and good- And all that on account It pays to learn how to much should have like a heen coals of our love, of our happiness, My brother listened almost gr ily I knew ft! The King envies me for Judica's swoeet Hps, like one who is parched in the deserts and thinks of another sitting by A well, Suddenly he arose and said cordially: “I understand only too well that yon wish to dwell in loneliness. You may build and do on the Sea-Alp whatever you desire, But even you happy ones cannot let your- selves be burfed year after year in Alpine snows, so you must abselutely have an ad- ditional residence. What do you say teo the estate Solitude? The palace is com- fortable, cosy and easily heated. Wo can make it still more comfortable and cosy. You could reach me easily, and if you should not care to do it, I could g0 to you #f I would not prove troublesome to your wife. To see your happiness will do me good, as if 1" He ceased, sighed deeply and sank into thought. Then I could look at him closely. The King looks ill, spent, wearied. Deathly weary he looks even now. Starting from his reverie, he said: “You will do me the favor to let me ar- range Solitude for you? Your residence there will bear no duties with it, cither for you or your wife, and—I beg of you to do it."” Nothing remained for me but to reply that I thanked him for his goodness and that I would accept Solitude, in whase golden rooms ancestors of our house used te pen their beautiful friends. The King seemed very glad and sald, full of extraordinary kindness: “So far as the play is converned, I can have a discrestly retired box arranged for you. Of course your wife will have to learn not to care if she is stared at.” [ refused this new proof of IHis Ma jesty's love with a moved heart. At the stroke of twelve the King con- ducted me personally to his Consort, Ae we approached the room of the Queen his whole being changed more and more with every step. When we were announced to Her Majesty a stift figure strode at my side with stiff face and vacant gaze. The trans- formation was something ghostly. The King aroused himself soon and left us alone. | noticed that my sister-in-law would have liked to ask about the bride but dared not for fear that the King might not wish it. Since she was so friendly and so sad, | began-against all eliquet'e —to speak of the Alpine farm, Miss Friiz and the engagement feast on the Sea-Alp. 8he listened as if | were telling fairy tales. Her oyes, as I can see, asked constantly: “Is that really true?® Are there such things in the world? Can a person be so happy? Can twe persons love each other S0 much? Best of all she liked the picture that [ made of Judics among the children. He- eyes sald: “"Could | have been there®’ A Court lady appeared just then and the pretty story was done. Her Majesty arose, gave me her hand and breathed “Please give my love to-" She did not get farther. Embarrassed, she said, “But I shall see you again. '’ I knew that what she wished to say was, “Give my love to your bride.” But since Her Majesty will never be able (0 know Judica she could not even manage to formulate a message for her. I withdrew, and something of the sor- row that surrounds the young Queen clung te me. Luncheon with the Queen Mother with enly four—mether and son and two Court ladics. my brother's faithful subjects an . I FELT A HOYT SBURGING OF BLOGD SHE NER THAT IT WAS ACTUALLY INSULTING. The conversation was the kind of con- versation that there is among us. My bride, my wholly changed life, was ig- nored. Everything that it is impossible to ignore, as a matter of fact, was ignored 1 was struck with the fact that my mother did not mention her daughter-in- law with a single word. Therefore I could not resist the temptation to turn the con- versation that way. My mother 'et me speak of the young Queen and-spoke of something else at ones. It was tactless and clumsy of me to let myself mention the Countess Thyra I tried to be aqu'te indifferent, but be- haved awkwardly, as 1 felt myself “Has the Countess nolt yet found a de- sirable matrimonial “An opportunity 2" “Well, yes.” “I did not know 'hat the Countess thinks of it."” Now I should have ceased. But I was irritated, and continued: “It is, no doubt, a great fortune to he permitted to live near you, yet—"' “Wen? “Yet the Countess, it seems to me, other objects that keep her at Court.” “Higher objects=?" “As you may take it.”’ “We will leave the matier to the Count- NS opportunity 2" has I had been snubbed in the presence of the lLadies of Honor, and It served me vight. What do | care for the more or less ambitious plans of the beautiful woman who is not at all like her brother, and to whom something draws me despite it all, even now?’ Of course they will tell the Countess every word of this conversation in altered form. She will despise me more than ever, for the whole matter was extremely ill-bred on my part. ‘That is the thing that irri- tates me the most. . - . . . - His Excellency the Minister of State has Just left me. Everything has been attended to in all form and ceremony. Our children, who are to bear the name of their mother, will not bhave the least right to any privileges of any kind. If my wife has a retinue of servants, they may not wear royal livery. She may not drive in & royal® equipage without me. In the case of my death, my widow will get a handsome annuity, but she must leave the residence which she may- have been sharing with me, within a week, un- less it huppens to be private property. She may take with her only the private possessions of herself and her children. So it goes on. 1 am wearied, nervous, nauseated, The Privy Councilor has sent in his pame. He called by command of my mother. I refused to see our spiritus fam- iliaris. e would have cappad the climax! Did | write that my mother did not see me alone for a minute? Not & minute. L am angry beccauze | did not tell my mother at the luncheon that | considered the King in miserable conditi_n, wearied to death, positively ghostly, And [ should have added that [ found the Queen pitiable and at the same time adorable. And fur- ther: my bride was a celestial vision, far too geod for this world—at least, for the world of Court, Uneeasingly | should have spoken to my Hlustrious mother of the sick King, the sad Queen, my charming bride and my hip- piness, That would have been something! In- stead of that I talked all sorts of nonsense about the beautiful Countess. Madly | rage becuuse of my cowardice. But my mother 4 manner * * ¢ . . . . . . . » I gent my excuse to the Queer, with whom I was (o take tea in company with Geb- hardt, und drove out to Selitude, without a cavalier, which is decidedly incorrect. I have the fool's frecdom. It is barely an hours the capital to the littte palaecs. If | should dwell in it with Judica, 1 would have it changed throughout so that no traces of its old use should remain. Even =0, I could not force myselfl to take my child there, were it not for ths» park, which dates from a later and different time. The park is like a forest, with lakes and ponds., The gardens are full of fount- ains and a4 marble throng stands every- where. Judica will laugh at many of these Olympian gods. In the lakes are swans and wuter lilies. They will please my child. And she will be pleased, too, by the masses of flowers. Great areas are fields of blossoms. | am delighted even now at the delight of my child, I was thinking this as 1 strolled along the paths when | met a lady. 1 recognized has drive from HAD REPEATED MY WORDS IN SO CARELESS, INDIFFERENT A MAN- Gebhardt's sister, stepped toward her, and thought suddenly: “Thank the King once more for his kind- ness, but decline absolutely to dwell herey even for a short time.” i bowed to her and uttered some phrase to which she replied that she had strolled too far and must hurry to her carriage, because she had been commands? to appear at the dinner. I said, politely: “I hope to have the fortyne to sit op= posite to you tonight.” 8he looked at me, did not reply, but walked still faster. [ feit impelled to make her speak. So I said in quite a different tone: “l1 have often thought of our conversa- tion in the ante room of Her Majesty. The thought of it gave me the strength—for, as you know, I am no hero—to win my, life's happiness.” “Your life's happiness?'”’ I felt a hot surging of blood. She had repeated my words in so careless, indif- ferent a manner that is was actually ine sulting. With a doubly serious and forcible voice | answered: “l call my bride my life’'s happiness.™ “Your Royal Highness will permit me to. offer my congratulations.’ “Of the sincerity of which I am satise fied, and, hence, thank you.” Now we both spoke in typieal courtly phrases, wkich, after all, are the only cor- rect ones at Court. 1 conducted the Coun- tess to her carriage, bowed, entered my tightly closed coupe and returned to the capital to put on evening clothes, There is no doubt now; she despises me, and all the more so hecause of my marriage with one who is not my equal. And this ® ¢ » What in the name of all things care I for the gpinion of the Countess Thyra? . . . . . At dinner the King asked me: “Have you been to Solitude? “Ta." “Then you will agree to it?™ The Countess sat opposite to me. At the last question of the King I looked at her. She, too, looked up accidentally and at me —with a most curious expression, as [ thought. The king had to repeat his ques- tion. I intended to say, “No." But leoking at the countess and meeting her glance, I said; R =R e R