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how easily a man may befuddle himself in these matters!
Our thoughts are so rarely turned to the road where every
stile and path is familiar, but more often they run amuck
wherever we catch sight of anything that bears a likeness
to a trail, and we’re ready to swear it’s the King’s highway.
Am I not right, ma chère? Have we not both, each for
herself or himself, in seeking a source of our melancholy,
caught the first thought we met and made it into the one
and only reason? Would not any one, judging from our
discourse, suppose that I went about sore afflicted and
weighed down by the corruption of the world and the
passing nature of all earthly things, while you, my dear
kinswoman, looked on yourself as a silly old crone, on
whom the door had been shut, and the lights put out, and all
hope extinguished! But no matter for that! When we get
to that chapter, we are easily made heady by our own words,
and ride hard on any thought that we can bit and bridle.”
In the walk below the others were heard approaching,
and, joining them, they returned to the castle.
At half-past the hour of eight in the evening of September
twenty-sixth, the booming of cannon and the shrill trumpet
notes of a festive march announced that both their
Majesties, accompanied by his Highness Prince Johan, the
Elector of Saxony, and his royal mother, and followed by the
most distinguished men and women of the realm, were
proceeding from the castle, down through the park, to witness
the ballet which was soon to begin.
A row of flambeaux cast a fiery sheen over the red wall,
made the yew and box glow like bronze, and lent all faces
the ruddy glow of vigorous health.
See, scarlet-clothed halberdiers are standing in double
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