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?
STATESMAN. They came yesterday, brought by a special messenger, with a
note written by her own hand, saying that she had picked them herself. To
so great a condescension I made with all endeavour what return I could. I
wrote--a difficult thing for me to do, Doctor, just now--presented my
humble duty, my thanks; and said they were my favourite flower.
DOCTOR. And were they?
STATESMAN. Of course, Doctor, under those circumstances any flower would
have been. It just happened to be that.
DOCTOR. Well, my lord, there, then, the matter is explained. You
_had_ primroses upon your mind.
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