“Good morning!” said the Queen, with a voice full of feeling.  “Let me have my child!” She looked down at the babe that rested in her arms, and then, without noticing any one in the room, lifted her glance on high and faintly murmured:—­

“This is the first time I behold my child in the daylight!”

All were silent; it seemed as if there was naught in the apartment except the broad slanting ray of light that streamed in at the window.

“Have you slept well?” inquired the Queen.  Walpurga was glad the Queen had asked a question, for now she could answer.  Casting a hurried glance at Mademoiselle Kramer, she said:—­

“Yes, indeed!  Sleep’s the first, the last, and the best thing in the world.”

“She’s clever,” said the Queen, addressing Doctor Gunther in French.

Walpurga’s heart sank within her.  Whenever she heard them speak French, she felt as if they were betraying her; as if they had put on an invisible cap, like that worn by the goblins in the fairy-tale, and could thus speak without being heard.

“Did the Prince sleep well?” asked the Queen.

Walpurga passed her hand over her face, as if to brush away a spider that had been creeping there.  The Queen doesn’t speak of her “child” or her “son,” but only of “the Crown Prince.”

Walpurga answered:—­

“Yes, quite well, thank God!  That is, I couldn’t hear him, and I only wanted to say that I’d like to act towards the—­” she could not say “the Prince”—­“that is, towards him, as I’d do with my own child.  We began on the very first day.  My mother taught me that.  Such a child has a will of its own from the very start, and it won’t do to give way to it.  It won’t do to take it from the cradle, or to feed it, whenever it pleases; there ought to be regular times for all those things.  It’ll soon get used to that, and it won’t harm it either, to let it cry once in a while.  On the contrary, that expands the chest.”

“Does he cry?” asked the Queen.

The infant answered the question for itself, for it at once began to cry most lustily.

“Take him and quiet him,” begged the Queen.

The King entered the apartment before the child had stopped crying.

“He will have a good voice of command,” said he, kissing the Queen’s hand.

Walpurga quieted the child, and she and Mademoiselle Kramer were sent back to their apartments.

The King informed the Queen of the dispatches that had been received, and of the sponsors who had been decided upon.  She was perfectly satisfied with the arrangements that had been made.

When Walpurga had returned to her room and had placed the child in the cradle, she walked up and down and seemed quite agitated.

“There are no angels in this world!” said she.  “They’re all just like the rest of us, and who knows but—­” She was vexed at the Queen:  “Why won’t she listen patiently when her child cries?  We must take all our children bring us, whether it be joy or pain.”