from expressing her wise thoughts. Wendelin approved of her silence, for
he did not like to talk; but his mother resented it. She would have
liked to pour her heart out to her daughter-in-law, and to make her son's
wife her friend and confidante. But such a relationship was impossible;
for, when she tried to share with her daughter the emotions which crowded
upon her, they rolled off the queen like water off the breast of a swan.

The people adored the royal pair. They were both so beautiful, and
looked so noble and princely as they leaned back in the corners of their
gilt coach during their drives and gazed into vacancy, as if their
interests were above those of ordinary mortals.

Years passed, and the choice of the Chancellor of the Council did not
turn out to be so fortunate as had at first appeared, for the queen gave
her husband no heir, and the house of Greylock was threatened with the
danger of dying out with Wendelin XVI. This troubled the duchess indeed,
but not so much as one would have supposed, for she knew that yet another
Greylock lived, and the mother's heart ceased not to hope that he would
return one day, and hand down the name of her husband.

She therefore persisted in sending messengers to those lands where, to
judge by the costume of the people, the appearance of the country and
buildings, as shown in the magic mirror, George was most likely to be
found.

Once she allowed her daughter-in-law to look into the smooth glass with
her; but never again, for it happened that the queen chanced upon a time
when George, poorly dressed, and with great beads of perspiration on his
forehead, sat hard at work over his drawing in a miserable room under the
roof; her delicate nostrils sniffed the air disdainfully, as if afraid