On the Heights: A Novel. Auerbach Berthold
Remain perfectly calm and composed; speak little, and in a low voice. Try to get out of the room as soon as you can, for she needs all the sleep she can get."
"I'll do everything just as you say. You can depend on me," said Walpurga. "Aren't you going along?"
"No; you'll meet me there. But now, take something to eat. Here comes the porridge. I hope it will do you good. You needn't eat it all; half will do for the present. But wait a little while until it cools. Come with me a moment. I suppose you're not afraid to go with me?"
"No; it seems as if I'd often heard your voice before."
"Very likely! I am also from the Highlands, and have already been in your father's house. If I am not mistaken, your mother was from our region. Was she not in service with the freehold farmer?"
"She was, indeed."
"Well then, your mother's a good woman, and don't forget to tell the queen that she's taking good care of your child. That will please her. I knew your father, too; he was a merry soul, and perfectly honest."
Walpurga felt happy to know that her parents were well thought of and that the others had heard them so favorably mentioned. If the doctor who had known her father had been that father himself, she could not have been more willing to accompany him into the adjoining room. He returned, in a few moments, and left in the company of Doctor Sixtus; and then Walpurga came, her eyes bent on the ground. When she at last looked up, she was glad there was no one in the room but Mademoiselle Kramer.
Her thoughts must have been of home, for she suddenly exclaimed:
"Dear me! I've got you, yet." She then took from her pocket the piece of bread which her mother had given her. And thus the first morsel she ate while in the palace, was brought from home, and was of her mother's baking. Her mother had told her that this would cure her of homesickness; and she really found it so, for, with every mouthful, she became more cheerful.
If seven queens were to have come just then, she would not have been afraid of them, and her crying was at an end. She ate all the crumbs that had fallen into her lap, as if they had some sacred potency. After that she tried a little of the porridge.
"Can't I go somewhere to wash my face and dress my hair?" asked she.
"Of course. Doctor Gunther has given orders that you should."
"I don't need orders for everything I do!" said Walpurga, defiantly.
Mademoiselle Kramer wanted to have her maid dress Walpurga's hair. But Walpurga would not allow it.
"No stranger's hand shall touch my head," said she.
And after a little while she presented a tidy and almost cheerful appearance.
"There, now I'll go to the queen," said she. "How do you address her?"
"'Your majesty,' or, 'most gracious madam.'"
"In the prayers at church they call her the 'country's mother,'" said Walpurga, "and I like that far better. That's a glorious, beautiful name. If it were mine, no one should take it from me. And now I'll go to the queen."
"No! you must wait. You will be sent for."
"That'll suit me just as well. But I want to ask a favor of you. Call me 'Du'."1
"Quite willingly, if the first lady of the bedchamber does not object."
"And so nothing can be done here without asking leave. But now we've done talking, let's be quiet. Ah, yes! there's one thing more. Whose picture is that hanging up there?"
"The queen's."
"Is that the queen? Oh, how lovely! But she's very young."
"Yes, she's only eighteen years old."
Walpurga gazed at the picture for a long while. Then, turning away from it, she sank on her knees beside the great chair, folded her hands and softly whispered a paternoster.
Walpurga was still kneeling, when a knock at the door was heard. A lackey entered and said:
"Her majesty has sent for his royal highness's nurse."
Walpurga arose and followed the servant. Mademoiselle Kramer accompanying them.
CHAPTER X
Preceded by a servant bearing a lantern, they passed through the long, narrow, brilliantly lighted passage and ascending a staircase, reached the gallery of the royal chapel. There were cushioned chairs for the court. Walpurga looked down into the vast, dark hall. There was no light except that in the altar lamp, the rays of which faintly illumined the image of the Virgin.
"Thou art everywhere!" said Walpurga, half aloud, while she looked down into the dark church and saluted the Madonna with the Child, as familiarly as if greeting an intimate friend. A dim sense of the divine attributes of maternity, as glorified in ages of song and picture, prayer and sacrifice, filled her soul. She nodded to the picture once again, and then walked on. As uncertain of her steps as if walking on glass, she went through the throne-room, and the great ball-room. Then they passed through other apartments which, though evidently intended for more domestic uses, were without doors and were separated from each other by heavy double hangings. At last they descended a wide marble staircase with a golden balustrade. It was well-lighted and carpeted. Here there were servants and guards. They entered other apartments, which were filled with people, who paused in their eager conversation to glance at Walpurga, In the third room, Dr. Gunther advanced toward her. Taking her by the hand, he led her up to a gentleman who was attired in a brilliant uniform and wore the crosses and medals of many orders.
"This is his majesty, the king," said he.
"I know him; I've seen him before," replied Walpurga. "My father rowed him across the lake, and so did my Hansei, too."
"Then, as we have known each other so long, let us improve our acquaintance," replied the king. "And now go to the queen; but be careful not to agitate her."
He dismissed her with a gracious inclination of the head and, accompanied by Doctor Gunther and Countess Brinkenstein, whom they found in attendance, she passed through several other rooms, the heavy carpets of which deadened the sounds of their footsteps.
"Be careful not to agitate her." The words greatly troubled Walpurga. Why should she provoke the queen to anger? for that was the only meaning she could take from the word.
Although she did not know what they meant by the word, her being pushed hither and thither, up and down, through passages and rooms without number, encountering the glances of the courtiers by the way and, at last, receiving the king's warning, had had the effect of agitating her.
At last she stood at the threshold of a green apartment that appeared to her like an enchanted room, hollowed out of some vast emerald. A lamp with a green glass shade hung from the ceiling, and shed a soft, fairy-like light on the room and its inmates. And there on the large, canopied bed, with the glittering crown overhead, lay the queen.
Walpurga held her breath; a soft glow illumined the face of her who lay there.
"Have you come?" asked a gentle voice.
"Yes, my queen, God greet you! Just keep yourself quiet and cheerful. All has gone well with you, thank God!"
With these words, Walpurga advanced toward the bedside, and would not suffer Doctor Gunther nor Countess Brinkenstein to keep her back. She offered her hand to the queen. And thus two hands-one hardened by toil and rough as the bark of a tree, the other as soft as the petal of a lily-clasped each other.
"I thank you for having come. Were you glad to do so?"
"I was glad to come, but sorry to leave home."
"You surely love your child and your husband with all your heart."
"I'm my husband's wife, and my child's mother."
"And your mother nurses your child and cares for it with a loving heart?" inquired the queen.
"The idea!" replied Walpurga.
The queen did not seem to know that her answer meant: "That's a matter of course," and she therefore asked: "Do you understand
The familiar "thou."