“And so,” said the Court Chamberlain, “even before the New Star appeared, His Majesty was preoccupied by the question of succession. And now that the New Star has appeared he is possessed by it.” The Emperor murmured: “The New Star is Heinrich, Heinrich the New Star.” The Court Chamberlain: “As his last act, His Majesty wishes to ensure that the crown, upon his death, goes to his son. That it goes to Prince Heinrich.” The Emperor murmured: “They are flimflamming me in Frankfurt!” The Court Chamberlain sighed: “Yes, it is true, the Emperor’s three perfidious brothers are as we speak conducting a meeting in Frankfurt, ostensibly on the Protestant threat but in actuality on the subject of succession. The Electors have gone to Frankfurt, too…” The Emperor contemplated the bowl. The bowl, he murmured, is a microcosm of creation, every aspect of creation corresponds to an element of the bowl and every element of the bowl to an aspect of creation. “Same with the horn,” he said, turning his head toward the horn. He added: “I know that I am dead and damned.” “Neither His Majesty’s three little brothers nor the seven Electors of the Holy Roman Empire hold Heinrich in high esteem, I am sorry to say, and that was the case long before the transient lunacy that led him to commit his unfortunate act,” the Chamberlain said. “They still, for instance, call him a bastard, even though the Emperor legitimized him by edict a long time ago.” “The Edict of Legitimation,” said the Emperor. He put down the horn and the bowl and pounded his fists on the arms of his throne: “All of my children were legitimized by the Edict of Legitimation that I signed long ago in the spa town of Karlsbad!” “Though of course, as a gesture of moderation, you do not enforce it as it pertains to your daughters,” said the Chamberlain, and the Emperor said: “To placate the forces of conservatism I do not enforce the edict as it pertains to my daughters of course.” He picked up again the horn and the bowl and gazed in contemplation at the bowl. The Chamberlain said: “And in fact one of your daughters does not even agree with the edict in the first place! How many times has Margaretha tried to sign an edict revoking the Edict of Legitimation?” The Emperor murmured: “She does not have the authority to do that.” “Of course she doesn’t have the authority to do that,” said the Chamberlain, “but does that stop her from going to Karlsbad and writing up her malicious Revocations of the Edict of Legitimation and forcing her ladies-in-waiting to sign it?” “I do not recognize her Karlsbad Revocations. They carry no legal weight.” “It is not a matter of legality or the law, My Lord, it is a matter of mockery.” The Emperor scrutinized the horn. “Why,” he muttered, “is she so keen to revoke an edict that in any case I do not enforce as it pertains to her?” “As I say, it is a matter of mockery, My Lord. She is mocking your authority. A dreadful thing for any daughter to do to her father even were he not the King of the Romans.” Still gazing in contemplation at the horn, the Emperor muttered: “I failed with Margaretha, I don’t know why. She was such a pretty child, she looked just like her mother. When she was little she’d always take my hand and lead me over to the glass jars of pickled monstrosities you see yonder, she loved those jars more than I did even, loved and was afraid of them. There was one jar containing three unborn babies joined at the skulls that she could stare at for hours, but only if I stayed and stared with her, holding her hand—which I was happy to do, very! She would always ask, Daddy, does the baby like being in that jar? Always: Daddy, daddy, does the baby like being in that jar? I remember that. And I would explain, Greta, dear, the baby is dead, it is beyond the liking of things. She thought it was one baby with three faces, not three babies with basically one very big seriously deformed head, I remember that. She asked me once if the baby had eyes, so I had my anatomist sew them open for her, all six, after that she was even more spellbound by it and even more afraid of it. We spent days in here together! Until she was three, four, five she never left my wunderkammer or let me leave it. Then one day she lost all interest in it…” He gazed at the bowl. “She was so pretty, I thought she would marry and be happy. I’ve never understood Margaretha, that one’s an enigma to me,” he murmured, gazing at the horn.