DOCTOR. A remarkable dream, my lord; rendered more vivid--or, as you say,
"real"--by your present disturbed state of health. As to that part of it
which you find so inexplicable, I can at least point toward where the
explanation lies. It reduces itself to this: primroses had become
associated for you--in a way which you have forgotten--with something you
wished to avoid. And so they became the image, or symbol, of your
aversion; and as such found a place in your dream.

(_So saying the doctor rises and moves toward the window, where his
attention suddenly becomes riveted_.)

STATESMAN. Perhaps, Doctor, perhaps, as you say, there is some such
explanation. But I don't feel like that.

DOCTOR. Why, here are primroses! This may be the clue? Where do they come
from?

STATESMAN. Ah, those! Indeed, I had forgotten them. At least; no, I could
not have done that.

DOCTOR. There is a written card with them, I see.

STATESMAN. Her Gracious Majesty did me the great honour, hearing that I
was ill, to send and inquire. Of course, since my removal from office, the
opportunity of presenting my personal homage has not been what it used to
be. That, I suppose, is as well.

DOCTOR. And these are from her Majesty?