But these hands have to-day no gifts for the solitary, forgotten
swans. All the dear, pleasant customs of the past are forgotten,
they have all ceased.
Yet the swans have not forgotten her; they sail unquietly hither and
thither along the shore of the pond, they toss up their slender
necks, and then plunge their red beaks down into the dark water
seeking for the grateful bits which were not there. But when they
saw that they were disappointed, they poured forth their peculiarly
mournful song and slowly sailed away down the lakelet into the
obscurity of the distance, letting their complaining notes be heard
from time to time.
"They are singing the swan's song of my happiness," whispered the
queen, looking with tearful eyes at the beautiful creatures. "They
too turn away from me, and now I am alone, all alone."
She had spoken this loudly, and her quivering voice wakened the echo
which had been artistically contrived there, to repeat cheery words
and merry laughter.
"Alone!" sounded back from the walls of the Marlborough Tower at the
end of the fish-pond. "Alone!" whispered the water stirred with the
swans. "Alone!" was the rustling cry of the bushes. "Alone!" was
heard in the heart of the queen, and she sank down upon the grass,
covered her face with her hands, and wept aloud.
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