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Title: The Youth of the Great Elector

Author: L. Muhlbach

Release Date: August 29, 2004 [EBook #13295]

Language: English

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THE YOUTH OF THE GREAT ELECTOR

An Historical Romance

BY

L. MUHLBACH

AUTHOR OF JOSEPH II. AND HIS COURT, FREDERICK THE GREAT AND HIS COURT,
LOUISA OF PRUSSIA AND HER TIMES, HENRY VIII. AND HIS COURT, ETC.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN
BY MARY STUART SMITH



1909




CONTENTS


BOOK I.

I. GEORGE WILLIAM, THE ELECTOR
II. EVIL TIDINGS
III. COUNT ADAM VON SCHWARZENBERG
IV. SOLDIERS AND DIPLOMATISTS
V. THE ELECTOR AND HIS FAVORITE
VI. REVELATIONS


BOOK II.

I. THE DOUBLE RENDEZVOUS
II. THE ELECTORAL PRINCE
III. THE WARNING
IV. AN IDYL
V. MEDIA NOCTE
VI. THE HARDEST VICTORY


BOOK III.

I. NEW PLANS
II. COUNT JOHN ADOLPHUS VON SCHWARZENBERG
III. THE HOME-COMING
IV. THE DONATION
V. BRUTUS
VI. REBECCA
VII. THE OFFER
VIII. THE BANQUET
IX. LOVE'S SACRIFICE
X. THE WHITE LADY
XI. THE PURSUIT
XII. THE DEPARTURE


BOOK IV.

I. THE YOUTHFUL SOVEREIGN
II. PLANS FOR THE FUTURE
III. DIPLOMATIC MISSIONS
IV. CONFIRMED IN POWER
V. THE CATASTROPHE
VI. REVENGE
VII. THE SEALING OF THE DOCUMENTS
VIII. THE FLIGHT
IX. THE LETTER
X. A SECRET AUDIENCE
XI. MEETING AND PARTING
XII. THE INVESTITURE AT WARSAW




ILLUSTRATIONS.


Portrait of George William, Elector of Brandenburg

The Jewess in her Bridal Dress

Robbery of Peasants

Portrait of Wladislaus IV, King of Poland




[Illustration: George William, Elector of Brandenburg.
From an engraving by H. Jacopsen]

THE YOUTH OF THE GREAT ELECTOR.

THE HEIR TO THE THRONE.

BOOK I.

I.--GEORGE WILLIAM, THE ELECTOR.


With hasty strides George William, the Elector, paced to and fro the
length of his cabinet. His features wore a dark, agitated expression, his
blue eyes flashed with indignation and wrath; his hands were folded behind
his back, as if he would shut out from sight the paper they held with so
firm a grasp, and which he had crumpled within his fist, until it bore
greater resemblance to a ball than a letter. Yet he _must_ look at it once
more--that unfortunate epistle, which had stirred within him such a
tempest of fury; he _must_ withdraw his hands from his back, and again
unfold the paper, for nothing else would satisfy his rage.

"Would that I could thus crush between my hands the insolent, seditious
authors of this letter!" he murmured, as with a sigh he smoothed the paper
and read it over. "I see it plainly," he said then to himself; "with right
unworthy motive, these lords of the duchy of Cleves intend to vex and
mortify me. To ask me to give them the Electoral Prince for their
stadtholder, to fix his residence among them! That were a fine story
forsooth, to send our son away, that he, too, may perchance rebel against
us. It is an abominable thing, which I shall never suffer, and I shall
forwith give them my mind on the subject."

He stepped up to the great table of carved oak-wood, took from it a silver
whistle, and gave a loud shrill call.

"Are the deputies from the duchy of Cleves already in the antechamber?" he
asked of the servant who appeared.

"Yes, your Electoral Highness, they are there."

"Let them come in! Be quick!"

The lackey stepped back, threw open the folding doors, beckoned into the
entrance hall, and with loud voice announced: "The lords of the duchy of
Cleves to wait upon his Electoral Highness."

Four gentlemen entered, attired in gorgeous, richly embroidered uniforms.
They bowed low and most respectfully before the Elector.

George William did not acknowledge this reverential greeting by the
slightest inclination of his head, but looked with contracted brow and
threatening eyes at the envoys, who had now again lifted up their heads,
and met with tranquillity and composure the wrathful glances of the lord
of the land, while they seemed to await his permission to penetrate
farther into the apartment, and to approach him.

But this permission the Elector did not accord them. He left them standing
like humble dependents near the door, and went toward them with long,
menacing strides.

"You are the lords from Cleves, who have come to present me this memorial
in behalf of the estates?" asked George William in a harsh voice.

"Gracious Elector," answered one of the gentlemen, "we were sent hither,
in the name of the states of the duchy of Cleves, to present to you in
person their wishes and requests. But since your Electoral Highness would
not have the kindness to grant us an audience, but referred us to your
minister, his excellency Count Schwarzenberg, we have preferred to intrude
upon your Electoral Highness with a written document, in order that your
highness might be made acquainted with the desires and petitions of the
duchy of Cleves by means of our own writing, rather than by the mouth of
his excellency your minister."

"It pleases you, gentlemen, to impugn the character of my minister, Count
Schwarzenberg?" asked the Elector. "You would insinuate that he might
represent things differently from what they actually are? I give you to
know, though, that Schwarzenberg is a servant singularly true and devoted
to his Elector, and that I have much more reason to trust him than the
estates of the duchy of Cleves, who have dared to make known to me through
you their strange requests. I have had you summoned now in order to have
confirmed by you orally what is stated in this paper, for it seems to me
nothing less than sheer impossibility that the estates should venture to
propose to their liege lord what you have proposed. Repeat to me,
therefore, by word of mouth the demands of the states of Cleves, then I
will return you my answer. Which of you is spokesman?"

"I, Baron van Velsen, your Electoral Highness."

"A Dutch name, as it seems to me."

"My family came originally from Holland, but settled in the duchy of
Cleves fifty years ago."

"Speak then, Baron van Velsen. I am ready to hear you."

"Your Electoral Highness, the states of the duchy of Cleves send us to
seek succor from you their liege lord in this time of their necessity and
distress. On all sides we are oppressed by soldiers, and perpetually in
danger of being seized and consumed by one or other of the contending
potentates, princes, and lords. In the Netherlands the contest is still
going on between the States and the Spaniards, and daily threatens to
involve us in the calamities and perils of war, and equally alarming to us
is the neighborhood of the Imperial and Swedish troops. Oppressed by all,
downtrodden by all, there is only one assured means of deliverance. It is
this, that your highness nominate the Electoral Prince stadtholder of the
duchy of Cleves, and permit him to take up his residence among the trusty
people of Cleves."

"Just tell me, you wise and prudent deputies from Cleves, what advantage
can accrue to you from the stadtholdership of the Electoral Prince?" asked
the Elector hastily. "And how far would that go in furnishing redress for
your difficulties?"

"So far as this, your highness, that our stadtholder would shield and
protect us against the encroachments of inimical powers, and by his openly
expressed neutrality secure us against the claims of all parties. The
salvation of the duchy depends wholly and solely upon our having a neutral
chief resident among us, and we beseech and implore your Electoral
Highness to grant us such an one in the Electoral Prince, and to send his
lordship your son to the duchy armed with plenipotentiary powers.[1] It is
for the second time that the states of Cleves appeal with this earnest,
humble entreaty to the heart of their liege lord, and most urgently we beg
that this time we may have a hearing."

"Are you done, or have you anything further to say?" asked the Elector
impatiently.

"Your highness, only this have we to say besides, that the Prince of
Orange has promised to support our petition to your Electoral Highness,
and that he also is of opinion that the welfare of Cleves depends upon her
possessing a ruler, resident in the land and neutral."

"The Prince of Orange has only written to me that the states of Cleves
were of this mind, and had besought him to introduce it to my favorable
notice," exclaimed the Elector warmly. "Since you are now through with
your repeated suit, and have nothing more to say, I will give you my
answer without delay. But you might have known beforehand--you might have
been sure that if a sovereign has once made his subjects acquainted with
his wishes and opinions, he can not be influenced and made to swerve in
purpose by renewed application, but that he holds to what he has once
determined upon. And so I tell you now for the second time, that I can not
grant their petition to the states of Cleves. In the first place, because
I will not have the Electoral Prince longer separated from me, since he
has already been absent from here three years, and in these troublous
times we wish to have our son near us. In the second place, the presence
of the Electoral Prince in Cleves might not have the wished-for result. It
is rather to be feared that those in opposition to the Emperor's majesty
and the empire will not accommodate themselves to the strict treaty of
peace, nor forbear making aggression upon the Electoral Prince's lands,
and pay so little regard to the person and presence of the Prince that his
safety perhaps might be imperiled. But, in the third place," continued
the Elector with raised voice--"but, in the third place, I can not grant
your request because such repeated demands almost force us to the
conclusion that you are weary and disgusted with our rule, and therefore
would seek to make of our son a sovereign lord, thus inciting the son to
offer opposition to his own father."[2]

"Your Electoral Highness," cried the Lord van Velsen, "I swear that it
never crossed our minds, we--"

"Silence! I gave you no leave to speak!" thundered the Elector. "This is
now our final decision. We have taken it in ill part that you have
reiterated your request, and have even approached the Electoral Prince
himself on the subject, as if the son durst decide anything or act,
without reference to his father and lord, since he is bound to be an
obedient subject, as all the rest of you. Communicate this to the states
of the duchy of Cleves, and herewith you are dismissed."

And, without one gracious salutation or further token of dismissal, the
Elector turned on his heel, and slowly traversed the spacious apartment,
leaning upon his staff. The lords looked after him with dark, resentful
glances; then, seeing that he had indeed spoken his last word, they slunk
away softly, but with bitter hatred in their hearts.

The Elector heard the door close behind them, and again turned round.

"I have paid them off," he said, drawing a deep breath, "I have told them
what I agreed with Schwarzenberg to say. I hope, too, that his Imperial
Majesty will hear of this, and recognize in it my purpose to adhere firmly
to the terms of the treaty of peace concluded at Prague and to his
Imperial Majesty. The Swedes and the Protestant party once renounced, I am
the Emperor's friend, and so will abide. Amen!"

Again the door opened, and the old lackey announced: "The deputation from
the townsmen of the cities of Berlin and Cologne request an audience with
your Electoral Grace."

The Elector gave the order for them to enter, while he let himself sink
into a high-backed, leather-covered armchair, for his gouty foot pained
him.

The deputation of citizens had meanwhile entered, and lightly, on tiptoe,
these men, with pale faces and sad countenances, passed through the
apartment toward the armchair of the Elector, who sat with his back to
them. Quite a strange, dismal appearance they presented, in their long
black gowns and broad white collars plaited around the neck. They would
have been taken, not for burgers of the two first cities of the land, but
for gravediggers and undertakers, who had come here in the discharge of
their melancholy offices.

When George William heard the approaching steps of the burgers, he gave
his chair a sudden push, so that it turned upon its strong rollers, and
thus gave to the men the benefit of his Electorial countenance.

Forthwith the burgers sank upon their knees, and imploringly stretched out
their hands toward the Prince.

"Wherefore have you come and what will you have of me?" inquired the
Elector in a severe voice.

"Your Electoral Highness, we have been informed by the magistrate that
your grace was angry with the corporations of Berlin and Cologne because
we ventured, in our anxiety and distress, to have recourse to our own
liege lord, and to implore in a petition his support and protection."

"How could you dare to do such a thing? Did you not know that the Count
von Schwarzenberg had been appointed by me stadtholder within the Mark,
and that to him alone you should have gone with your complaints and
grievances?"

"But we knew, besides, that our despair had reached its height, and that
we longed for the protection and presence of our own Sovereign, as weak,
delicate children long for the sight of a strong, tender parent. Therefore
have the united corporations of the cities of Berlin and Cologne
determined to send a memorial in writing to your Electoral Highness, to
conjure our liege lord not to deal with us as step-children, since we are
children of one and the same father, and inferior to the Prussians neither
in love nor obedience, but only more visited by misfortune and the
calamities of war. But on this account we implored our hereditary
Sovereign most graciously to turn his eye upon us, and to come to our aid,
since we stood in such great need of his help and his protecting arm.
This, Electoral Highness and most gracious lord, this is our sole crime.
We longed after the presence of our Sovereign, in his own most sacred
person, and told him so."

"But in what way have you presumed to speak?" cried the Elector with
vehemence. "Not as in reverence and duty bound, but as if you would
reproach us! What a rude expression is this when you say, in your
petition, that you hope we shall no longer leave the Markgraviates as
sheep without shepherd, just as if we would hand you over without
protection to the free will and power of the enemy? Most probably those
honorable citizens, the tailors and shoemakers, drew up this famous
writing, but they would have done better to take into their counsel their
priest, or at least a schoolmaster, because he could have enlightened them
as to the proper style of address for obedient, submissive citizens to
assume in writing to their Sovereign. I have always been an indulgent
ruler, who continually cared for your best interests. If matters do not go
so well with you, it is your own fault, because you would never carry out
my intentions, which I made you acquainted with and urged upon you long
years ago. For have we not perpetually, ever since God exalted us to the
Electoral dignity and invested us with the reins of government, caused to
be represented to you and to all the states in the land how highly
necessary it was to establish another form of government? Who has it been
but yourselves who hindered, obstructed, and opposed it? Now, however,
when things go not so smoothly, you lament over it, and demand from me
assistance, when in former times your pride always consisted in being
wholly independent of us, through your free-city constitutions! Now, then,
see what is the result, when a city will be wholly independent of its
liege lord and persists in its obstinacy."

"Your Electoral Highness, it has never entered the minds of our citizens
to oppose themselves obstinately to the most gracious of sovereigns,"
protested the spokesman of the burger deputation, "On the contrary, we
have always been found ready to obey the behests of your Electoral grace."

"That is not true! That is a lie!" cried the Elector vehemently. "Often
have you declined to obey my commands in small as well as great things. I
remember yet very well how, when three years ago I came in the summertime
from Prussia to Berlin, I was perfectly shocked at the filth and stench in
the streets of Cologne and Berlin, where before every house, besides
pigstyes, there were heaped high piles of trash and manure. But when I
ordered the high council of both cities to have the streets cleansed, they
had the hardihood to answer me thus: 'The citizens have no time now to
clean the streets, since they are busy with agricultural work.'[3] And
quite recently, when I merely applied to these two capitals for their
yearly quota of fifteen thousand dollars, in order to increase my
bodyguard from three hundred to six hundred men during these perilous
times of warfare, did you not refuse to grant this subsidy to your
rightful lord?"

"Your Electoral Highness, that was the result of the extremest affliction
and necessity, because we were really in no condition to pay the money.
For whence shall we procure it if poverty, want, and affliction are the
only things that yet belong to us? Just on that very account, to bring
this matter to the hearing of your Electoral Highness, have we been
deputed as delegates by the corporations of Berlin and Cologne to wait
upon your Electoral Grace, that we might represent our distresses to our
Sovereign, and entreat him to forgive us if we are forced to decline
contributions of money, for we are unable to raise them. Since this
fierce, horrible war has raged in Germany between the Imperialists and
Swedes, between the Catholics and Protestants, the cities of Berlin and
Cologne have suffered pitiably, and have been levied upon and plundered,
sometimes by the Swedes and sometimes by the Imperialists. Before the
peace of Prague the Imperialists visited us quite often with cruel
robberies and levies, but since the peace of Prague,[4] it has been yet
worse, and what we have suffered and endured these past two years is
enough to melt a stone, how much more the heart of a pitiful Sovereign.
Last year first came the Swedish colonel Haderslof into our town, and
levied upon us for sixteen thousand dollars; and hardly had he left when
Field-Marshal Wrangel came and demanded twenty thousand dollars besides.
Since, however, we were not in a position to pay that sum, he contented
himself with a thousand dollars in money, but we had to furnish him in
addition with fifteen thousand yards of cloth, three thousand pairs of
socks, and as many pairs of shoes, and besides that he had all the cattle
driven out of the city. And yet again, a few weeks ago came the Swedish
colonel Haderslof, and demanded of us a contribution of eleven thousand
dollars. It was impossible, however. We could pay no more, since we had no
more gold, and were obliged to receive it almost as a favor that he
promised in the compact to accept silver in payment in lieu of gold, and
to estimate a half ounce of gilded silver at twelve groschen and a half
ounce of white silver at nine groschen. We could do nothing but submit,
and each householder and citizen bore all the silverware he possessed to
the guildhall, where the Swede had ordered the contributions to be
collected. And now, most gracious lord and Elector, now that we are poor
and wretched, comes the stadtholder in the Mark, the Lord Count von
Schwarzenberg, and requires of the cities of Berlin and Cologne the
payment of their annual tax for purposes of defense."

"And you are bound by duty and obligation so to do," exclaimed the Elector
quickly. "On the committee day of the year 1626 it was decided that the
city of Berlin should annually pay a stipend for defense of eight thousand
five hundred dollars, that therewith might be maintained her garrison and
the fortress of Berlin. Therefore you are bound and under obligation to
pay this assessment at present, for it strikes me forcibly that you were
never in greater need of a garrison than just now."

"But may it please your Electoral Highness, our garrison is of no manner
of use to us. It is much too inconsiderable to afford protection against
the enemy, and is rather hurtful, insomuch as the soldiers readily fall
into quarrels and brawls with our enemies, in which, however, they always
come off losers, only embittering still more the hatred of our foes.
Therefore, when we have anticipated the approach of the enemy, we have
always besieged the commandant of our garrison with entreaties and
representations, until he has consented, in order to save us from
increased misfortunes, to retire with his garrison from the city, and to
march out to Spandow or Brandenburg until the enemy again had taken their
departure.[5] Your Electoral Grace sees therefore that the garrison is of
no use at all to us, and yet we must pay a tax for defense."

"Yes, must and shall pay it, for your case is not so bad as you would have
us believe. Meantime you have refused to defray the expenses of enlarging
my bodyguard; report has reached Koenigsberg of the proceedings at Berlin
and Cologne, and truly wonderful and horrible tidings have been imparted
to me by my chancellor, Pruckmann. I know all. I am acquainted with all
your doings and actions, and I must say that my heart, yearning as it does
over my subjects, has been grieved to learn the abominable godlessness and
wickedness of the citizens of my towns of Berlin and Cologne. It is true
that you have had to suffer many of the trials and calamities incident to
war, but not in the least have you been improved by them or led to
repentance. In spite of the necessities of war, you have not forsaken your
pride and haughtiness; the women dress themselves extravagantly, and it is
really abominable, shameful, and disgusting to behold them in the new
French attire, which they call 'la Fontange,' and which leaves the person
uncovered almost as far as the waist. They bedizen themselves with finery
and flaunt through the streets in velvets and satins. And the men
encourage them in it, join in their amusements, and waste their lives in
banquetings and feastings. Such disgraceful lives as men must have passed
in Sodom and Gomorrah! And although you know the enemy may come again at
any moment and levy their contributions upon you, yet you take it not in
the least to heart, but continue to lead a merry, luxurious life, have
balls and drinking bouts, spend a wild, heathenish life in eating,
drinking, gambling, and other wantonness, deck yourselves out like
peacocks, and those who have the least, and carry all their possessions
upon their bodies, act worst of all."

"It is desperation, your Electoral Highness, which makes the people of
Berlin so mad and wild. Well they know that they can call nothing their
own. Why should they save when the Swede comes to-day or to-morrow, and
takes from them their last possession? Therefore they prefer to squander
upon themselves in desperate merriment, rather than economize and go along
sorrowfully, to find that they have only saved for the enemy, who laughs
at their misery."

"Now, if you take it so, you might give to me also what I desire and
demand, and I would have the citizens of Berlin and Cologne to know
through you that I am not minded to abate in the least my requisitions for
the payment of the expenses of my bodyguard, and the tax for the
maintenance of my Electoral court. You must and shall pay, and in any case
it must be preferable, to your desperation, to give your last thing to
your Elector and Sovereign, rather than have it stolen and extorted from
you by the Swedes. So, there you have my decision, and be off with it and
convey it to the citizens of Berlin and Cologne. Attempt not to say
anything more now, for I will hear nothing more. You are dismissed, go
then!"

"Your Electoral Highness," the spokesman ventured to begin, "I--"

But the Elector would not allow him to proceed. He took up his silver
whistle, and with its shrill call overpowered the sound of the burger's
words. The door of the outer chamber opened immediately, and the lackey
appeared upon the threshold; on the outside, beside the door, were to be
seen two of the Electoral lifeguardsmen, standing with shouldered weapons.

"The burger deputation is dismissed," cried the Elector shortly. "Have the
doors opened, and let them go out."

The delegates from the oppressed cities ventured not to make opposition;
sighing and with heads bowed low they strode through the room. Arrived at
the door, they turned once more and bowed deeply before his Electoral
Grace. But George William saw it not, for with an adroit jerk he had again
turned his armchair toward his writing table. Meanwhile, although he
affected to read the document which he took from the table, his attention
was in fact wholly concentrated upon the departing burgers. He listened
with a satisfied air as they slowly moved away, and, when the door of the
antechamber closed behind them, with a deep-drawn breath deposited the
document upon the table.

"They will pay, I am certain they will pay," he said, a triumphant
expression flitting across his troubled, peevish countenance. "I have
properly frightened them and put them in wholesome dread, so that they
will not dare to oppose us longer. Yes, they will pay and thus extricate
us from the dilemma in which we find ourselves at present. Ah! what a
hard, fearful thing is life, and how little does it fulfill the hopes with
which I looked forward to it in the years of my youth! My blessed father
was such a fortunate ruler! With him everything was successful. He lived
in peace and concord with Emperor and empire, was beloved by his people,
and had great prospects for the future, being heir to precious
possessions. And when I thus beheld him in the glory and fullness of his
power, I thought to myself that it was a glorious destiny to be an
Elector, and that a clear sky always shone above the head of a Prince. Yet
all at once clouds chased across and darkened this sky, for in Bohemia was
kindled the war which soon split Germany into two hostile parties. My
blessed father took sides with his brother-in-law, the new King of
Bohemia. But then came the battle of the White Mountain, which cost my
poor uncle, the King of Bohemia, Frederick of the Palatinate, his land and
crown, and drove him forth into misfortune and misery. And the triumphant
Emperor threatened all who should succor the conquered sovereign with
proscription and the ban of the empire, and whoever should rescue him must
cry _pater peccavi_, and penitentially confess to the Emperor and empire.
My blessed father did so, but henceforth he might no longer sit upon the
throne, which could only remain his through the condescension of the
Emperor. He preferred to live independently in solitude and retirement,
devoting himself to the meditations and practices of the reformed
doctrines, whose confession he adopted, together with his whole family. So
he resigned the government, and gave it to me. Alas! it was a sad
heritage, and little enough had I to rule, for misfortune, war, and the
Emperor ruled me and my land, so that I soon had my fill of it, and--"

"May we come in?" asked a pleasant voice behind the Elector, interrupting
him in his melancholy reminiscences.

"Yes, Lady Electress," he replied, painfully rising from his
armchair--"yes, come in and be heartily welcome to your spouse."




II.--EVIL TIDINGS.


The Electress Charlotte Elizabeth closed the little side door which led
from her private apartments, and with a friendly nod of the head and
tender glances approached her husband, who advanced slowly to meet her.

"Elizabeth," he said, thoughtfully shaking his head, "I see from your
countenance that you have something special to say to me. Your brown eyes
shine to-day unusually bright and clear, and on your lips rests a happy,
tender smile, such as, alas! I no longer observe often in my wife."

"Gladly would I have smiled and looked cheerful, George, but have lacked
the opportunity. You know well that we have seldom seen a blue sky above
us; it has been always over-cast by gloomy clouds. But I beg of you, my
lord and husband, to resume your seat, for I see, alas! that your foot is
paining you sadly. The fatigues of travel have injured it, and it would
indeed be wise if you would at last determine to resort to active
remedies, and to that end allow a couple of the learned Frankfort doctors
to be sent for."

With an expression almost of alarm the Elector looked upon his wife, who
had seated herself on a stool beside him, and soothingly and tenderly laid
her hand upon his cheek.

"You have something on your mind, Elizabeth, something surely," he said,
"and it is nothing which can give me pleasure, else you would not use so
much circumlocution; but speak it out frankly."

"How?" asked the Electress, "must I have some special object in view, when
I smile upon you, and fondle you a little? Know you not that my soul is
full of tenderness toward you, and that my heart is ever speaking to you,
even when the lips utter not aloud what the heart is whispering within?"

"Elizabeth!" cried the Elector, "now I _know_ it; you have received
tidings from our son, and vexatious tidings! Yes, yes, that is it! I know
those tender looks and beaming eyes; it is not my wife that I recognize in
them: it is the mother of our Electoral Prince, Frederick William."

"Ah! what an acute observer you are, George, and how well you understand
how to read my countenance! Well, now, you shall have it in all candor. I
have news from our dear Electoral Prince."

"He notifies us, I trust, that he has followed our instructions strictly
and to the letter, and is now on his way home?" asked the Elector, gazing
upon his wife with anxious, inquiring glances.

But Elizabeth avoided his look.

"What!" cried George William angrily, "you do not answer me! You can not,
therefore, respond to my questions with a joyful Yes! Can it be possible,
then, that the Electoral Prince has disregarded my commands, that--"

"Do not allow yourself to be so excited, George," interrupted the
Electress. "First hear his motives and excuses before you grow angry with
our son."

"From all those motives and excuses I shall only gather that he will not
come," cried the Elector.

"Say rather that he can not come," returned Elizabeth, while she gently
forced back her husband, who in his excitement and impatience had made an
effort to rise. "Yes, I have letters from The Hague, my dear husband,
letters from both our uncle, the Prince of Orange, and my mother, and I
dare affirm that these letters have given me heartfelt joy, inasmuch as my
uncle the Stadtholder, as well as my mother, write of our dear son that he
is an accomplished Prince, in whom one may reasonably rejoice, and whom we
may be proud to call our son. You know, George, that during these three
years of his sojourn in Holland, we have ever had good and complimentary
accounts of him. His tutor, von Kalkhun, has often reported to us with
what diligence our son applied himself to his studies at Leyden, and that
he had become quite a learned Prince, in whom even the professors
themselves took peculiar delight. Then when he had finished his course of
studies at Leyden and went to Arnheim, where he met with the Princes
William of Orange and Maurice of Nassau, they could not sufficiently laud
the handsome appearance, lofty spirit, and noble heart of our young
Electoral Prince."

"Truly," muttered the Elector, "one could infer from your discourse that
you are the mother of this highly praised lad. It is an old experience
that mothers always find something remarkable in their sons, and if they
were to be believed, then would the son of every mother be no ordinary
specimen of mankind, but a phoenix among all other men."

"But, my well-beloved Elector, I have nevertheless told nothing but the
truth. Our son has been very successful in his studies these last three
years in Holland, and has become a very learned and accomplished young
man, who is well skilled in Latin and Greek, besides speaking German,
French, and Italian in a masterly way. But most especially has he
cultivated himself in a knowledge of the science of war, and the Princes
of Orange and Nassau certify that he will assuredly become hereafter a
great general and warrior, so learnedly and wisely does he even now
discourse upon the subject."

"Why do you say all this, Elizabeth?" asked the Elector. "Why do you
praise our son, but that you are conscious that he is deserving of
censure, and has sinned grievously against us in not having so hastened
his return home as to be here now instead of his letters? But that he has
already set out on the journey home I can not for a moment doubt, and
bitterly should he experience my fatherly wrath if it were not so. Just
tell me in short, concise words, when does my son, the Electoral Prince,
come?"

"My dear lord and husband," said the Electress with reluctance and visible
embarrassment, "would it not be best for you to speak on this subject with
the chamberlain, Balthazar von Schlieben--"

"What!" cried the Elector, springing from his seat--"what! Is Schlieben
here again--Schlieben, whom we sent to The Hague in order that he might
conduct our son hither? He has come back without the Electoral Prince?"

"Yes, my husband, he has come back," replied the Electress, winding her
arms tenderly around her husband's neck. "I entreat you most earnestly not
to be angry before you have heard the reasons why the Electoral Prince
does not come. I entreat you to admit Balthazar von Schlieben, and have an
account rendered to you by him."

"Yes!" exclaimed the Elector, vehemently--"yes, I will see him. He shall
render me an account. Where is he? They must send for him directly; he
must be summoned to me immediately!"

"It is not necessary, George; he stands without there in the little
passage leading to my apartments. I shall cause him to enter immediately.
You must promise me first, though, my beloved husband, that you will
listen to him without reproaches and anger, and that you will say nothing
in his presence against the only son given us by Heaven."

"I shall make no promises that I can not keep," cried the Elector warmly.
"I will speak with Schlieben. He must come in. Ho! Chamberlain Balthazar
von Schlieben, come in, I charge you to come in."

The little arras door opened and disclosed to view a slender, tall young
man, in gold-laced blue uniform, with red facings.

"At the command of your Electoral Grace," he said, making a reverential
obeisance.

"Come hither, Schlieben," cried George William, "close up to me, that I
may see if you are actually he who dares to return here without the one
after whom I sent him. So! Look me straight in the face, and tell me why I
sent you to Holland three months ago, and what was your errand there?"

"Your Electoral Highness, I was sent by your grace to Holland, in order
that I might conduct hither his Highness the Electoral Prince."

"Well, then, where is the Electoral Prince?"

"Your Electoral Highness, he is at present still at The Hague, and most
urgently and most submissively he beseeches your Electoral Highness
through me that he may be permitted to remain there at least for the
winter."

"He is yet at The Hague!" cried the Elector. "He ventures thus to brave
me--to oppose himself to my strict injunctions? Or have you not handed him
my letter, Schlieben? Or have you not repeated to him all that I said and
urged you by word of mouth to convey to him? Did you not inform him that I
ordered him, under penalty of my princely and fatherly displeasure, to set
out and journey hither in the speediest manner possible?"

"Your Electoral Highness, I carried out exactly every command given me by
your highness, and the Electoral Prince surely would not have delayed an
instant gratifying the demands of his revered father, if many concurring
circumstances had not made it impossible for him. The Electoral Prince has
himself more narrowly pointed out and explained these in this letter,
which he has charged me to deliver to your highness."

And with a deep inclination the chamberlain extended a large sealed packet
to his Sovereign.

George William took it with angry impatience, and so curious was he to
read the contents of the packet that he hastily tore off the cover, the
sooner to arrive at its purport. A closely written sheet of fine paper was
within the cover, and the Elector unfolded it with eager hands. But after
looking at this a long while, he shook his head passionately, and the
flush of anger on his countenance grew yet darker.

"What sort of new-fashioned, disrespectful handwriting is this?" growled
George William. "This is not at all as if it had been written by a
prince's son, but by a scholar who had carefully sought to crowd as many
lines as possible into one page in order to save paper. A prince should
never renounce or be unmindful of his own dignity. But it is unbecoming,
indeed, and unworthy of a prince to write such a fine hand, as if he were
a scholar or a writing master. I can not read these small intricate
characters. Read the letter to me, Electress, in short, share it with me
from the first."

The Electress took the sheet held out to her, and read it over with
hurried glances. "The Electoral Prince uses the most humble, submissive
words," she said, finally. "It is just the letter of an obedient and
respectful son, who is all anxiety to obey the commands of his father, and
who is deeply grieved that he must nevertheless go contrary to them."

"Must?" cried George William. "Be pleased to tell me why he must."

"Only hear, my lord and husband, what the Prince writes about it," said
the Electress, and with loud voice she read:

"'There are various circumstances which compel me to prolong my stay in
this country. In the first place, Admiral Tromp is here, and he is very
useful in aiding me to arrive at a more perfect knowledge of nautical
affairs, as, also, the condescension and kindness of my uncle, the Prince
of Orange, that great general, affords me a glorious opportunity of
perfecting myself in the science of war. And I think that, the more I
learn and study here, the more capable will I become of serving hereafter
under your highness. But, apart from these things, it would be exceedingly
difficult at this season of the year and under the present conditions, to
make the long journey from The Hague to Prussia; most probably it would
consume a half year, and the expenses would be enormous, while next summer
I might easily accomplish the journey in two months. The voyage by sea
would be next to impossible during this present winter on account of the
violent storms, which might occasion tedious delays. Moreover, I dread the
privateers of Dunkirk, against which the Dutch convoy could hardly protect
me. But yet more formidable seems the journey by land in the existing
state of the times. In Westphalia the Hessians and Swedes rove about,
rendering the roads unsafe. Even should I take my way over the flats,
along the strand, yet the Swedish and Hessian troops could easily catch up
with me, and overpower the escort promised me for safe-conduct by the
counts of East Friesland and Oldenburg and the Bishop of Bremen. Or should
I bend my course through Upper Germany and Franconia, there, again, other
hindrances present themselves, for throughout all these provinces reigns
the greatest wretchedness--men even devouring one another for hunger. On
that account my uncle, the Prince Stadtholder himself, has opposed my
undertaking the journey, considering it too dangerous. A deputation from
the duchy of Cleves has also come and begged me to postpone my departure,
since they had petitioned your grace anew to leave me in the duchy of
Cleves as their stadtholder. And if all this were not so, there is yet
another reason which must prevent my departure from here. But this I dare
not commit to writing, for a letter may be so easily lost, and to read
such a thing would furnish our enemies an occasion of rejoicing and
triumph. Therefore I have told all to young Balthazar von Schlieben, and
he will in my name faithfully and most reverentially communicate to you,
your Electoral Highness and my most gracious father, the true and
principal cause which prevents my setting forth from Holland.'"

"Well, speak then!" cried the Elector impatiently. "Speak, Schlieben--what
is it?"

"Will not my lord and husband first hear the Electoral Prince's letter to
the end?" asked the Electress. "Here follow some cordial, affectionate
words, and assurances of the most filial respect and most submissive
love."

"Can I value them, yes, can I value any of them all?" answered George
William passionately. "When we will prove nothing by deeds, then we make
speeches, and when we are disobedient in act, then we asseverate with
words of love and reverence. Speak, then, Balthazar von Schlieben, since
you have been thus commissioned by the Electoral Prince. What is this most
weighty of reasons which forbids the departure of the Electoral Prince
from Holland?"

"Your Electoral Highness, it is debt, it is the total want of money."

The Elector started up as if an adder had stung him. "Debts!" he cried in
thundering voice. "Want of money! Will this litany never, never cease?
What a wild, extravagant life the Electoral Prince must lead to be for
ever and ever wanting money, and no sooner are his debts paid than he
contracts new ones!"

"Husband," said the Electress soothingly, "it does not reflect upon the
life our son leads that he is out of money, but proves that he has not
received a sufficiently ample allowance. Just reflect that three years
ago, when he undertook this journey to Holland, you did not give him a red
cent, and that I had to give him from my little savings three thousand
dollars that he might be able to travel at all.[6] A considerable portion
of this must have been expended during the tedious journey, with his
retinue."

"If any one were to listen to you, Electress, he would really suppose that
the Electoral Prince had lived upon those three thousand dollars lent him
by you from that time up to the present. You forget, however, that,
already in the year 1636, therefore the very next year after the Electoral
Prince set out upon his journey, the states at the diet of Koenigsberg
voted the large sum of seven thousand dollars to the Electoral Prince for
the prosecution of his studies, over which they made a great outcry even
then, since the owner of each rood of land must be taxed five groschen to
pay for these acquirements, bringing down, no doubt, many a curse upon his
Latin and Greek.[7] From these two sources alone, then, he has had ten
thousand dollars to disburse in three years, which for so young a
gentleman would surely seem sufficient. Besides, just half a year ago, on
his repeated application to me for money, I sent him again one thousand
dollars, insomuch as he felt himself compelled to purchase a stately
equipage."

"That was the time, husband, when our son went from Leyden to Arnheim, to
reside there for a long while. There, of course, he was obliged to have a
small household about him, in order to maintain the dignity of his father
and his house, for there, too, dwelt the Princes of Orange and Nassau, and
our son, the Electoral Prince of Brandenburg, in order not to be surpassed
by them, must, like them, hold his court."

"And unfortunately living is very expensive in Holland," remarked the
Chamberlain von Schlieben. "Your Electoral Grace had sent one thousand
dollars to the Electoral Prince for the purchase of an equipage, but this
sum was by no means adequate. The coach alone cost seven hundred dollars."

"Seven hundred dollars!" cried the Elector, amazed. "How can one pay so
much money for a mere wooden box?"

"If it please your highness, the coaches in Holland are not by any means
wooden boxes, merely painted, varnished, and gilded a little within and
without, having hard leather-covered seats. The Electoral Prince's coach
is hung within and without in red velvet and satin, for this custom and
usage require of a princely personage in Holland; besides, a set of four
horses must be bought, and each of these cost one hundred and forty
dollars. Your Electoral Highness sees clearly, therefore, that one
thousand dollars could not suffice to cover the expense, for coach and
horses alone cost more than that, and now must be added the liveries and
harness, besides the wages of coachman, footmen, and lackeys."

"Yes, I see plainly that my dear son leads a stately, extravagant life,"
cried the Elector. "I see well that it is high time for him to come away
from there, and learn that an Elector of Brandenburg must adapt himself to
his means, and, instead of riding in a coach drawn by four horses, must
drive in a miserable rattle-trap pulled by two paltry beasts. It is
therefore full time that the Electoral Prince were withdrawn from the
scenes of his pomp and pride, and were taught again to live simply and
sparingly. He must and shall return home! Finally, I am sick and tired of
this eternal negotiating, this writing to and fro, and it really is high
time that this should have an end. For a year already I have been in
treaty with the young gentleman concerning his return home, and last of
all dispatched my chamberlain to enjoin it upon him as my most decided and
express will that the Prince come home, and start forthwith. But he has an
obstinate disposition, and sends the Chamberlain von Schlieben back, and
tranquilly remain there, where he is so well pleased, living as he does in
pomp and luxury, while I have hardly enough money to live along scantily
and with the strictest economy."

"But only consider, my dear husband," said the Electress persuasively--"only
consider that it is not from high-mindedness or disobedience that the
Electoral Prince tarries in Holland. Indeed, he can not get away while he
has no money, and on that very account most urgently appeals to the
kindest of all fathers, through the Chamberlain von Schlieben,
reverentially begging and beseeching him to extricate him from his
difficulties by sending him money enough to pay his debts, and to enable
him to travel as becomes his rank."

"Money, and always money!" cried the Elector, almost in a tone of despair.
"O God! what a tormented, unhappy man I am! Every one has something to
crave of me, and no one anything to give me! When I demand of the states,
provinces, cities, citizens, and peasants funds to defray my expenses,
then from all sides I hear: 'We have no money; we are so reduced that we
can pay no taxes.' And still all these states, provinces, cities,
citizens, and peasants demand of me money and support, succor and alms,
although they know that I have nothing, for they give me nothing. Money!
money! That word has been my tormentor and enemy ever since I began to
rule; sleeping and waking that word has pursued me. From all officers,
from all subalterns I have heard it, as often as they came near me, and
now comes my dear son, too, afflicting and harassing his poor, unfortunate
father with this dreaded word. But I shall not suffer him to employ this
hated word in his own behalf and turn it against me for his own advantage.
I shall not allow him to remain longer at The Hague under pretext that he
lacks money to bring him home. He shall have money, yes, he shall have it.
I shall see to procuring it. It must be done."

"My dear lord and husband," besought the Electress, "I entreat you not to
be so much excited, for it might injure you."

"And I entreat you to leave me now, Lady Electress," said George William
impatiently. "It is useless to exhort one to tranquillity and composure,
who has so much reason to be roused and provoked. But this fine son of
ours shall pay for the vexation and torture that he has prepared for me.
He may reckon upon my setting it down to his account, and not allowing
myself to be cheated by empty speeches and by fine actions in word alone.
You are dismissed, Sir Chamberlain von Schlieben! Badly enough have you
fulfilled my commission, and you may be sure that never again shall you
be selected as our messenger and legate!"

"Permit me, my husband, to put in a good word for poor Schlieben!" cried
the Electress. "He had no power to bring the Electoral Prince away by
force, just as the Electoral Prince himself has no power to leave of his
own free will. The whole difficulty consists in our son's having no money."

"Yes, and right welcome is it to him, this time," said the Elector with a
bitter laugh. "As he has no money, he continually contracts more and more
debts, thereby rendering the payment more difficult, and the longer the
delay the longer can the Prince remain in Holland, leading a merry life
there. But I shall make an end of it, an end! Schwarzenberg shall come,
and he must and will procure me the means. Excuse me, Lady Electress, I
have business--pressing business."

"I withdraw, my lord and husband," said Elizabeth, bowing ceremonially,
and, turning to the Chamberlain von Schlieben, who was just sliding toward
the door with pale, disturbed countenance, she continued: "Sir Chamberlain,
follow me! You must tell me more about my dear Electoral Prince and all my
dear relatives, whom you have seen and spoken with at The Hague."

The countenance of the chamberlain lighted up, and with a grateful glance
he followed the Electress through the side door into her own apartments.

The Elector was alone. His head sank upon his breast, and he stood deeply
absorbed in thought. But after a pause he slowly raised his head, and his
sorrowful glance fell directly upon the portrait of his father, John
Sigismund, whose sad, pale face was turned toward him, with its dark,
melancholy eyes.

"Poor father!" murmured the Elector with a heavy sigh, "I understand quite
well and easily conceive why you voluntarily laid down your power and
retired from the government before death had sent his summons. An Elector
of Brandenburg has by no means a comfortable, pleasant life of it; and a
sorely oppressive inheritance have I received from you, so that I, too,
might despair, and do as you have done. I, too, might rid myself of the
hard task of seeming to be an Elector and reigning sovereign, while I am
naught but a poor, much-tormented man, who has more titles than lands,
more debts than money, and whose nation consists not of obedient subjects
but of obstinate brawlers, a mob of would-be politicians and starved-out
people. No! no!" he cried, interrupting himself, "no! I shall not give my
son so much joy. I shall not do him the pleasure of yielding up the power
to him, and being thrown aside myself like a squeezed lemon. No, Elector
I shall remain, and my lordly son shall submit to the paternal will, and
return home. Schwarzenberg must provide me with the means. He is the very
man for this--he understands it!"

The Elector reached out again for his silver whistle and sounded a shrill
call. Immediately one of the outer doors was opened, admitting a lackey.
The Elector had already opened his mouth, to issue his commands, when he
suddenly grew dumb and looked at the lackey with a still more clouded brow.

"Fellow," he said angrily, "how dare you appear in this presence with such
a dress? With your short bearskin jacket and patched hose, you present
such a pitiably mean appearance that I am actually ashamed to behold you."

"Pardon, your Electoral Grace," stammered the servant with downcast air,
"I can not help it, and I am woefully ashamed myself that I must dare to
come thus before my most gracious lord the Elector. A heavy misfortune has
happened to my livery coat. I left it hanging on a nail, and tore a
fearfully large three-cornered rent in it, on which the court tailor says
he will have to stitch a whole day, and even then it may not be
presentable after all. The livery coat, therefore, is at the tailor's,
which is the reason why I must appear in my jacket."

"You should have put on another coat," cried the Elector, impatiently,
"for it is contrary to respect that you should enter in such shabby style."

"Another coat?" asked the lackey, with an expression of the highest
astonishment. "Pardon, your Electoral Highness, I have only that one coat!"

"What!" exclaimed the Elector. "Only _one_ coat! Did I not order that new
livery coats should be made for you lackeys before our removal from
Koenigsberg?"

"It was done, your Electoral Grace, we received our new livery coats
before we left Koenigsberg."

"Well, then, where are the old ones?"

"Your Electoral Grace, the master of the wardrobe sold the old ones to the
Jews at Koenigsberg, who paid him a good sum of money for them, for the old
livery coats were trimmed with genuine gold lace, but the new ones are
cheaper, for it is only gilt or--"

"Hold your tongue and begone!" cried the Elector. "If you have no coat,
then from to-day I dispense with your services, and Jocelyn shall take
your place."

"Forgive me, your Electoral Highness, but Jocelyn is in confinement. The
master of the wardrobe had him put in the guardhouse three days ago."

"Wherefore then--what has Jocelyn done that the master of the wardrobe
should have him put into prison?"

"He was obstinate, your highness. The paymaster has not distributed to us
our wages for two months, so that none of us has a groschen in his pocket.
When we reached Berlin, three days ago, Jocelyn found his old mother
miserably sick and well-nigh starved, for the Imperialists have thoroughly
pillaged Berlin, and robbed the old woman of her last possession. She had
nothing to eat, and still less could she afford to send for a doctor and
buy medicines. So, in his desperation, Jocelyn went to the paymaster and
begged of him his month's wages, but was told that he could have nothing
now, because the journey from Prussia here had cost so much money that all
the coffers were empty; but that in the course of eight days the paymaster
might be in funds again, and that then we should all have what was due us.
But, on account of his old mother, Jocelyn could not wait, and so in
desperation went off and sold his new livery coat to an old-clothes man,
and carried the money to his mother. And for that reason, your Electoral
Grace, poor Jocelyn now sits in the guardhouse."

The Elector had turned away, and gazed from the window down into the
pleasure garden, the branches of whose green trees nearly touched the
windows of the apartment. He could no longer meet the glance of the lackey
Conrad; he would not have him witness his mortification and the painful
twitchings of his mouth. But after a while he turned again to old Conrad,
who had crept softly toward the door, not venturing to go out without
permission from his master.

"You see well, old man," said the Elector confidentially, "that our
affairs are not in so prosperous a condition as formerly when you entered
my service, and were the body servant of the merry, cheerful young
Electoral Prince. Now that Electoral Prince has become a very sad,
serious, and poverty-stricken Elector, who has lived through much
affliction, and must content himself, despite his glorious title, with
being a poor tormented man, and therefore also a peevish man. I was once
otherwise; that you know. But debts make the wildest tame and the most
joyous fretful, as you see in me, old Conrad. But now listen!"

He stepped to his writing table and drew forth a long purse with meshes of
green silk and gold. Carefully counting, he shook some money out of the
purse into his hand and then handed it to Conrad.

"Conrad, there are twelve dollars. Do you know the Jew to whom Jocelyn
sold his livery coat?"

"Yes, I know him, your highness."

"Then go, Conrad, and buy back the coat. How much did the Jew pay for it?"

"Six dollars, your Electoral Highness."

"Return him five dollars for it, and tell him that the dollar subtracted
is by way of punishment for his having dared to purchase the coat of one
of the servants belonging to the electoral household, for he must know
that it is not the lackey's but electoral property. But if the Jew
ventures to grumble, then say to him that I shall have him watched and his
false dealings inquired into. When you have obtained the coat, carry it to
the master of the wardrobe, and tell him to release Jocelyn from the
guardhouse and permit him to wear his coat again. Say to him that it is my
command. And now go and attend to this matter for me."

"Forgive me, your Electoral Grace, but I know not yet what to do with the
rest of the money. When I shall have redeemed Jocelyn's coat with five
dollars, there will yet remain seven dollars besides, and I beg of your
highness to point out what disposition I must make of them."

"What wages do the lackeys receive by the month?"

"One rixdollar and four groschen, your highness!"

"That makes four dollars and sixteen groschen owing to you and Jocelyn,
since the paymaster is in your debt for two months' wages. There will
still be a remainder of two dollars and eight groschen, which you must
give to Jocelyn to take to his old mother, not, however, as if it came
from me, but as his own gift."

"Ah! your Electoral Highness, what a kind, gracious master you are!" cried

Conrad, with tears in his eyes. "Only extend this one act of goodness and
condescension: permit your old Conrad to kiss your hand and thank you for
the favor your highness has shown to Jocelyn and myself, and be not
offended at your old servant for asking such a thing, since it is only out
of love and hearty respect."

"I know it, Conrad, I know it," said the Elector, reaching out his hand to
the old man, and permitting him to press it to his lips. "I know your
good, faithful heart, which has never swerved from its duty these twenty
years that you have been in my service. Go now, old man, and do as I have
bidden you. But hear! No one need know that I have paid you and Jocelyn
your month's wages, for then they would all come to be paid by me; and the
paymaster was quite right--our coffers are empty, and we must take account
of everything until they are filled again. Keep silent, then, both of you.
I shall tell the paymaster myself that I have just meddled a little in his
affairs.

"But now, hear one thing more, Conrad. Go straightway across into Broad
Street, to the house of his excellency the Stadtholder in the Mark, Count
von Schwarzenberg. We request his excellency to take the trouble to come
immediately to us. Say from me that we have weighty business to transact
with him that admits of no delay. Therefore, we entreat his excellency to
come hither forthwith."

"Pardon, your highness," said Conrad, anxiously and confusedly; "my
dresscoat is still at the court tailor's. Must I go across in my jacket?
At the Stadtholder's everything is so fearfully fine and stately. The
lackeys, too, put on such airs that an electoral lackey can not stand up
to them at all; they are, besides, haughty, supercilious fellows, who
think themselves very grand, and fancy they are something quite uncommon,
and almost more than one of us, who are court lackeys to your highness.
Would it not make the fellows rejoice to see me in this jacket and--"

"Never mind; go across in your jacket," said the Elector, laughing.
"Remember always that you are the servant of the master, and those spruce
fellows but the lackeys of the servant, although I must say that the
servant is a much richer, more magnificent man than his master. Run and
bring the Stadtholder to me!"




III.--COUNT ADAM VON SCHWARZENBERG.


"I thank you, Master Gabriel Nietzel, I thank you with my whole heart, for
you have indeed prepared me a great pleasure," cried Count Adam von
Schwarzenberg, at the same time nodding pleasantly to the young man who
stood beside him. Then he was lost again in contemplation of the picture
before which they both stood, and which was mounted upon an easel in one
of the deep bay windows of the lofty apartment.

"I well knew that my most gracious lord would take pleasure in this
glorious work of art," said Master Gabriel Nietzel, smiling, "and
therefore have I spared neither expense, toil, nor danger in bringing to
your excellency this noble painting of the great Italian master."

"And I am astonished that you have succeeded, master," exclaimed the
count, changing his position before the picture, in order to examine it in
a new light, from a different point of view.

"Most gracious sir, if I had had in the box which I guarded so closely
hams or other edibles, instead of this picture, or even articles of
clothing or munitions of war, then surely I should have failed in bringing
it here from Italy, considering all the bands of soldiers and robbers who
fly through the German empire now, like a swarm of bees, and like locusts
leave in their train, wherever they alight, want and wretchedness."

"Yes, yes," cried Count Schwarzenberg, with a short, peculiar laugh,
"right ill things look throughout this holy German empire; poverty, war,
and pestilence are the locusts of which you speak, and--But why do you
remind me of these unpleasant things? Let me enjoy one quarter of an
hour's refreshment and joy. Let me forget care for just a little while,
and feast my eyes upon the sight of this glorious woman!"

"It is a Venus," said Master Gabriel with diffidence, "the so-called Venus
with the Mirror. Master Titian has twice painted this design, only that in
one picture two Cupids appear, while the other shows only one Love."

"Very naturally," laughed the count. "When the great Titian painted the
first picture one Love only existed, while at the second representation a
second Love had arrived for the beautiful woman, to her own ineffable
delight and that of her beloved Master Titiano Vecellio."

"Pardon, your excellency," remarked Master Gabriel, "indeed the painting
represents a Venus."

"There you are now, poor child of man," cried Schwarzenberg, laughing
aloud, "so properly reserved and so affectedly modest! A mere woman in her
primitive beauty would wound your sense of propriety, and you would not
venture to look at her, but a goddess has permission to appear without
earthly clothing, and you dare, casting reserve aside, to lift your eyes
to her glorious form. And besides, in your humility and modesty, you think
that a woman of such godlike shape may not be found upon earth, therefore
you exalt her to the gods, and therefore you call her a Venus, who is only
the most voluptuous, beautiful, and charming of women."

With upraised finger Master Gabriel pointed toward the naked little boys
who, exquisitely fair, stood behind Venus and held her mirror for her.

"That is an angel, as your grace sees, for he has wings upon his
shoulders," he said, timidly.

But Count Adam von Schwarzenberg hastily took the master's finger and
directed it to another part of the picture.

"It is a woman," he cried, laughing, "for she has flung a covering around
her hips, and you can never make me believe that Venus upon Olympus wore
velvet edged with ermine. But let us quit this strife! A beautiful woman
is always a goddess, and he who would not acknowledge that would be a real
heathen and barbarian. I will therefore comply with your wish, and entitle
this wondrous woman a Venus. And I keep her, your Venus. Name the price,
master, and you shall immediately receive your pay."

"I paid two thousand ducats for the painting in Cremona, where I had the
good luck to discover it, on my return from Rome," replied Master Gabriel
Nietzel, with anxious countenance and timid manner, as if he dreaded an
explosion of wrath on the part of the count, who was everywhere recognized
and decried as avaricious and greedy of gain. "Add to that two hundred
ducats to cover my bare outlay for the packing and freight. The rest,
which concerns my trouble and need, and the perils I endured when we, that
is to say, Venus and I, were seized by bands of soldiers and ransomed--all
this can not be calculated, and in humility I leave it to your grace to
compensate me as you may see fit."

"Two thousand ducats for the picture, two hundred for expenses incurred! A
tolerably high price, indeed, for a little piece of painted canvas!" cried
the count, with a smile. "For that amount a whole regiment of Brandenburg
soldiers might be armed and equipped, to aid the Elector in conquering his
dukedom of Pomerania. But what is that dirty, down-trodden, commonplace
Pomerania in comparison with this heavenly woman, or, if you prefer, this
earthly Venus. Go, Master Gabriel, go directly to my treasurer, and get
him to count out to you three thousand ducats. Eight hundred ducats for
your toil and danger. Are you content, master?"

"Your excellence, you pay like the greatest of lords and emperors!" cried
the painter, with joy-beaming countenance. "You make me forever your
debtor, and so long as I live I shall be ready to serve you."

"Now, if you mean that in earnest, Gabriel, an opportunity presents itself
at this very time."

"Try me, your excellency, give me a commission, however difficult, and my
most gracious lord shall be forced to admit that I have executed it most
faithfully and valiantly."

"Now listen, then, master! I herewith constitute you my agent; I take you
into my pay and service. Were I a reigning prince, then I should say, I
make you my court painter; but being only the little Count Schwarzenberg,
the--"

"Stadtholder in the Mark," interrupted Gabriel, with ready glibness of
tongue, "Grand Master of the Order of St. John, first counselor and
minister of the Elector of Brandenburg, president of the electoral counsel
of state, lord and owner of many lands and estates, count of the empire,
and--"

"Silence, silence! enough of that!" exclaimed the count, waving him off.
"It is with me, as with the Elector. We both have manifold titles, but
they bring us in little enough, and no money appertains to them. You have
sketched me graphically, master; be quiet now, and listen to me again in
silence. I therefore take you into my pay and service, and give you from
this day forward an annuity of five hundred dollars, which will be
delivered to you quarterly. Hush, hush! do not speak! I read a question in
your eyes and features, and I will forthwith supply the answer. Your
question runs, What have I to do for this annuity? And the answer is,
travel about in the world as a free man to hunt up pictures, and when they
are worth it, to purchase them for me. But above all things, to tell no
one that you are in my service, but to keep this as a secret between us
two. Pictures you must buy for me; that is all you have to do, master. But
sometimes you must allow me to dictate to you--where to journey in quest
of my pictures. For example, now: You have been in Italy, prosecuting your
studies there, and have opportunely brought home to me, thence, a Venus,
because I desired you to make a few purchases for me. You have seen how
delighted I was with the beautiful picture, but, on the whole, I have
taken a greater fancy to landscapes and representations of comedy, and the
Flemish painters are the ones I peculiarly admire. There are the Teniers,
father and son, who have painted the most charming and amusing country
scenes and comic pieces, and there is another young man, Wouvermann by
name, who is said, although youthful in years, to possess great talents,
and to understand not merely how to paint splendid clowns, but battle
scenes as well. Now, I should like of all things to possess a couple of
pictures by each of these three painters, and since the Teniers lived at
Amsterdam and The Hague, and Wouvermann now resides at The Hague, I wish
you to go to The Hague and make a few purchases there for me. But, mark
well, without saying that you come there in my employ, or that you have a
contract with me. I should much prefer your assuming the appearance of
belonging to my enemies, and sounding in unison with them the trumpet of
abuse."

"Your excellency, how could I venture it, and how can you require of my
grateful heart, that it so belie itself, and allow my lips to speak other
than words of gratitude and reverence?"

"I empower you so to do, Master Gabriel Nietzel, yes, I require it of you,
that you carry such words upon your lips, especially if you are in the
presence of the Electoral Prince Frederick William."

"The Electoral Prince?" asked the painter in astonishment. "Your
excellency will send me to the Electoral Prince at The Hague?"

"On the contrary, you shall act before him as if you hated me, and
belonged to the party of my opponents. But you must by all means reach the
Electoral Prince, must seek to remain in his neighborhood, and to gain his
confidence. You are a lively fellow, and have studied life at its
fountains in Italy. The Electoral Prince loves gay company, and you may
impart to him a little of your knowledge of life, and teach him that youth
must enjoy without scruple or reserve. Be his _maitre de plaisir_, Master
Gabriel; lead him into the temple of art, and teach him that each fair
woman is a Venus, a goddess, and therefore deserving of his worship. You
are a clever painter, and also, as I have heard from Rome, know well how
to sip of life's sweets; and these are two fine talents, which you must
convert into money. For this purpose I send you to Holland. You are to buy
pictures for me and to help the Electoral Prince to while away the hours
and enjoy life. I shall rejoice if you succeed, and it would be agreeable
to me for you to transmit to me exact accounts, every week, of your
efforts, and of the life you lead there with the Electoral Prince. You
can write, Master Gabriel Nietzel?"

"Yes, I can write; but--"

"Well, what signifies that _but_, and wherefore do you look all at once so
gloomy and so cross? Peradventure my commission does not please you?"

"No, your excellency, it does not please me, and I can not undertake it!"
cried Master Gabriel, indignantly. "You send me to The Hague, not as a
painter, but--let me call the thing by its right name--but as a spy, and,
what is yet more, as the corrupter of the Electoral Prince!"

"And that pleases not your virtue and your honesty?" asked the count,
shrugging his shoulders. "Well, good then, dear master! Stick to it! Let
all that we have said to one another be unsaid. Remain an honorable,
independent hero of virtue, paint pictures, and see to it that you sell
them, and if you do not succeed, then be contented to paint signboards
for merchants and their walls for burghers, and console yourself with
this, that you have refused a higher career from principles of virtue and
magnanimity. Take your Venus, Master Champion of Virtue; I had not
commissioned the purchase, and she is too dear for me. We are released
from our mutual obligations, and have nothing more to do with one another.
Go!"

"Will not your excellency keep the picture?" asked Nietzel, shocked, great
drops of agony standing upon his pale brow. "Will not your excellency
indemnify me for all my labors and expenses, and shall I go from you
with--"

"With the proud consciousness of your virtue," said the count, completing
his sentence for him. "Yes, that you shall, Master Gabriel. You shall bear
in mind that Count von Schwarzenberg would have taken you into his
service, and that you declined it, thereby exciting his wrath a little,
which, as I have been told, has seldom turned to the advantage of those
who have roused it, but always to their injury. However, you care nothing
for that; you defy the wrath of the Stadtholder in the Mark, you--"

"No farther, please, your excellency, no farther!" cried out Gabriel, pale
as death. "Forgive my excitement and my struggles. I pray you to forget my
improper words, and accept me for your humble and obedient servant. You
must do me the favor to keep the Venus of Master Titiano Vecellio, for she
is my only possession, and I have given away my whole property in her
purchase."

"Speak more clearly, master!" cried the count. "You mean to say I must
keep your copy of the Venus, and pay for it as if it were an original one,
for on that you base all your hopes."

"Your excellency!" stammered Master Gabriel in terror, "you do not
suppose--"

"That this painting here is a copy, which you executed, and afterward hung
up a couple of days in the chimney, to give it the appearance of a picture
an hundred years old? Yes, my good man, I do indeed suppose so, and
willingly grant you my testimony to the effect that you have very
faithfully copied Titian, and expended much toil and trouble upon it."

"Most gracious count, I swear to you, that I have been slandered--that--"

"Swear no oath," said the count earnestly and severely. "You did not buy
this picture at Cremona, but copied it in the palace Grimani at Venice,
and worked upon it three whole months. You see I am well informed, and
have my friends everywhere who furnish me with intelligence, and regard it
as an honor to be my--spies, as you would say."

"Mercy, gracious lord, mercy!" cried Nietzel, bursting into tears, and
sinking upon his knees before the proud, lofty form of the count. "Pardon
for my crime, for my presumption! I was in such great want and distress
that I knew not how else to help myself, and I swear to you that my copy
is so faithful and exact that it can not he distinguished from its
original."

"Well, no matter; we shall hang it up as an original, and allow it to be
inspected by the connoisseurs of the electorate," said the count,
laughing. "I keep your Titiano Vecellio, Master Nietzel, and consequently
pay you three thousand ducats for this excellent original. That you may
see how much in earnest I am I will immediately give you an order upon my
treasurer, and you may forthwith receive that sum."

He approached his writing table, rapidly dashed off a few words upon a
strip of paper, and then handed it to the painter. "There, take it, Master
Gabriel Nietzel, and collect your money."

The painter gave him a long, astonished gaze. "You forgive me, your
excellency," he said; "you accept my high estimate, although you know that
I have cheated you and that this is only a copy?"


"What difference does that make? The picture is beautiful, and it gives me
pleasure to look at it, and that is the only thing, after all, that I can
require of a painting."

Master Nietzel hastily seized the count's hand, and pressed it to his
lips. "Most gracious sir," he cried, "you have purchased my Venus with
your money, my heart with your magnanimity! Henceforth I am yours, body
and soul, and it is just, as if--"

"As if you had leagued yourself with the devil, is it not?" laughed the
count.

"No, as if I had no longer any other will than yours--that is what I
wished to say, most gracious lord. Only command me, say what I must do,
and it shall be done."

"You go, then, to Holland, and purchase pictures there for me, and study
the Flemish painters?"

"I will go to Holland, your excellency."

"You will seek to gain access to the Electoral Prince, to acquire
influence over him, and to cheer him up a little?"

"I shall do as your grace directs."

"You will send me weekly a written statement of all that you see and hear
there?"

"I shall send you a written statement," replied Gabriel, with downcast
eyes and a hardly suppressed sigh.

The count saw it and smiled contemptuously. "You will write these reports
to me in ciphers, which I shall acquaint you with, and swear to me that
you will give the key to these ciphers to no human being?"

"I swear it, your excellency."

"Now, since you are so docile and obedient, my dear Master Gabriel, I
shall raise your salary. I had promised you an annuity of five hundred
dollars--I shall now make it six hundred dollars. Hush! no word of thanks;
I can imagine them all or read them in your countenance, and that
satisfies me. Only one thing remains to be decided. From whom will you
receive letters of recommendation to the Electoral Prince?"

"Your excellency, I believe the Electress will have the kindness to
furnish me with a letter of recommendation to her son. Her most gracious
highness is very favorably inclined toward me because I painted from
memory a miniature of the Electoral Prince, and presented it to her. Since
then she has been very condescending to me, and never refuses me
admittance to her presence, and I may as well acknowledge to your
excellency that a few days ago the Electress hinted at the probability of
a position being offered me as electoral court painter."

The count laughed aloud. "I congratulate you, master, and especially upon
the salary which will be attached to the office. Only do not be puffed up
and reject the little I have offered you, which you can always draw in
secret, even when you have become electoral court painter. It is well for
affairs to stand thus just at this juncture, for it will be easy for the
electoral court painter to gain access to the Electoral Prince, and to be
received into the number of his household. Repair to the Electress
forthwith, tell her that you wish to travel to Holland in order to
prosecute your artistic studies there, and come to me early to-morrow
morning and acquaint me with the result of your audience. Farewell, Master
Gabriel; go first to my treasurer and then to the Electress. No, no, say
nothing more; no protestations, no word of thanks. I know you--that is
enough."

With proud, courtly mien he nodded to the painter in token of dismissal,
waved his hand toward the door, and then seated himself in the window
niche beside the Venus, turning his back to the room.

Abashed and humiliated, Gabriel slunk away, and not until the sound of the
closing door gave warning of his departure did the count turn around. His
gaze was fixed upon the Venus, who in her wanton beauty met his looks with
dark, flashing eyes.

"You have cost me much, fair signora," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Three thousand ducats for a copy! Who knows whether Titiano Vecellio was
paid more for his original in his own time? Ah! you poor, beautiful woman,
how dismal and cheerless it will seem to you in the cold north, and how
much you will miss the golden light of your sunny Italian home here in
this dirty northern Mark! We two must console one another, and try to
forget that we do not live in your own fair Italy, but here, here, where
there is more rain than sunshine, and where in place of music we often
hear nothing but the grunting of swine and the bleating of sheep!"

And, as if in confirmation of his words, just then was heard from the
street a loud tumult, a confused discord of grunts and squeals. The count
turned from the Italian beauty, and looked out into the street, or,
rather, the great square fronting his palace.[8] The rain, which had
streamed down incessantly for a few days past, had drenched the unpaved
ground, and here and there, where the soil was impermeable to moisture,
had formed puddles and pools. These, the sheep and hogs, which were
ensconced in stalls before the houses, had chosen for their pleasure
ground, and whole herds of them had come to bathe in these puddles before
Count Schwarzenberg's palace and in the neighborhood of the cathedral. A
few merry, naughty boys, attracted by their squealing and bleating,
likewise ventured into the black sea of the cathedral square, but, finding
that they forthwith sank in the same, they had called for help, shouting,
screaming, and laughing, thereby attracting still other boys and idlers,
who now with prudent caution stood on certain less saturated spots, and
with shrieks of mockery and laughter watched the vain efforts of the
sunken boys, who were striving to work themselves out of the morass. Such
was the melancholy picture that presented itself to Count Adam von
Schwarzenberg, and he gazed upon it with sad and gloomy looks.

"And this is the residence of the Stadtholder in the Mark!" he sighed--"the
outlook of von Schwarzenberg, count of the empire! Oh! it shall be
otherwise! Out of this pigstye Berlin, I will construct a neat and
handsome residence for myself, from this miserable house a splendid palace
shall spring forth, and all the arts and sciences shall find their patron
in the lord commanding in the Mark, when he is no longer merely called
Stadtholder, but--"

He looked anxiously behind him, as if he dreaded being overheard by some
one. "Hush!" he murmured then, "be still! There are thoughts and plans
which may never find expression in words, but, like Minerva from the brain
of Jupiter, must come forth ready for action, spear in hand. Creep back
into my heart, and never let it be perceived that you are there, until the
right hour shall come, the hour--"

He was silent, and again glanced searchingly around. Then, taking the
silver whistle from his writing table, he let ring forth a shrill, loud
call. A lackey in rich livery, its original material totally hidden
beneath a mass of golden trappings and silver lace, appeared in the
doorway.

"Who is in the antechamber?" asked the count, casting a long, last glance
upon the Venus, and then covering her again with the green stuff that hung
at the corner of the frame.

"Most gracious excellency, both entrance halls are crammed quite full of
men of every rank and calling, for this is the hour for public audience."

"Are many uniforms present?"

"If you please, your excellency, very many. Besides General von Klitzing
and Colonel Conrad von Burgsdorf, the Colonels von Rochow and von Kracht
are there."

"These four gentlemen must be admitted to me," ordered the count. "The
other people had better go, for I have no time to-day to grant audiences.
Well, why do you stand there loitering? Why do you not go?"

"Most gracious sir," entreated the lackey, "there are so many
distinguished gentlemen there, who have already come so often in vain, and
to whom I have promised an audience to-day, in accordance with your
excellency's express command."

"Who, for example?"

"For example, your excellency, the councilors of the cities of Berlin and
Cologne, then the states of the duchy of Cleves, and--"

"Enough, enough! I see well that these lords have paid you to put me in
mind of them, and I shall therefore have the complaisance to do honor to
your intercession."

"Alas! most gracious lord, I swear to your grace, that nobody has paid me,
that--"

"Silence! I know you all!" cried the count contemptuously. "I know that
every audience day brings as much money to you lackeys as it prepares
discomfort and weariness for me. Pocket your money quietly, honest
Balthazar; you are no worse than all the rest of the servant brood and
therefore I despise you no more than the rest. Go, conduct hither the
military gentlemen named through the corridor, and meanwhile I shall take
a walk through the audience chamber and you collect your pay."

The gold-bedizened lackey left the cabinet with reverential and submissive
air. But outside, he remained standing before the closed door, and boldly
lifting up his head, with wholly altered face, hurled a look of hatred and
defiance at the door.

"No worse than all the rest of the servant brood!" he muttered, raising
his fist in a threatening manner--"no worse than yourself, you should have
said, proud lord. You receive bribes as well as we, take money wherever
you can get it, lend upon pledges, and practice usury like any Jew! Ah! we
know you, haughty count, the whole Mark of Brandenburg knows and detests
you, and it is a sin and shame that we must bow down before the Catholic
alien, the foreigner, the imperialist, the priest-ridden slave, and it is
a dreadful misfortune that the Elector himself bows down before him, and
acts as if Schwarzenberg were lord here, and he a mere servant. Well," he
comforted himself, letting his fist drop, "I can not alter it, and father
says what we can not alter we had better submit to, and profit by a
little, if we can. I will now guide these gentlemen bullies to the count's
cabinet."

Count Adam von Schwarzenberg had meanwhile opened the door to his little
private antechamber, and caused to enter his officiating equery and
chamberlain, von Lehndorf, as also his two pages in waiting.

"Lehndorf," he said, "what think you? Would it be possible to arrange a
small hunting party for to-day?"

"Most gracious sir," returned the chamberlain joyfully, "the weather seems
just made for that. A clear, bright October day, and the does and stags in
the park deserve that a couple of dozen of them should be shot down, for
they have grown so bold that they hardly show any longer their wonted fear
of man. Would your excellency believe that yesterday four does, under the
guidance of a powerful buck, were pleased to issue forth from the park
behind the castle and promenade a little in the worshipful towns of Berlin
and Cologne? Such a screaming as there was of the street boys, who pursued
the beasts, such a grunting of hogs, into whose styes the does sprang
without respect, and such a running of honorable city women, who were
struck with fear of being maltreated by the horned animals, who were
nevertheless not their husbands, and such a yelping of noble butcher dogs,
which probably took the does for calves gone mad! I swear, your
excellency, it was divine sport."

"You are a blustering fellow yourself," laughed the count, "and 'Who loves
to dance, ne'er lacks the chance.' If you are thus minded, we shall have a
little hunt to-day, and take it upon yourself to invite for us a few
worthy and suitable gentlemen who have fine horses and dogs."

"And will not your grace to-day, in this beautiful weather, grant these
gentlemen the pleasure of seeing the two new greyhounds run? They have
been here eight days already, and might as well display a little of their
skill for the heavy sum of money they have cost."

"Yes, that is true--a heavy sum of money they cost indeed," said the
count. "My son writes me that he paid eight thousand dollars for these two
greyhounds." [9]

"But they are worth it, your excellency," cried the chamberlain, quite
enthusiastically. "They are two wonderful animals, who have not their
match in the wide world. I am quite in love with them, and if I had wife
or ladylove, would gladly give her for these two greyhounds."

"Yes, yes, many an one would relish making payments in this fashion,"
laughed the count. "It is easier to give a wife away than eight thousand
dollars, and again she is easier to obtain than such a superior greyhound.
Hurry now, Lehndorf, and arrange the hunt for me. Let the servants put on
their new red hunting suits and my huntsman also his new livery, that the
curious Berlin people may have something to gape at. Away with you,
Lehndorf! You, pages, take the baskets, now I am off for the audience
hall."

Both pages, in suits of gold-embroidered velvet, rushed into the little
antechamber, and quickly returned, each one bearing a pretty, shallow
basket in his hand. Behind them came the chamberlain, who threw across the
count's shoulders his ermine-lined velvet mantle, and put into his hand
his plumed hat, trimmed with gold lace, and his embroidered gloves. The
count hastily placed the tall, pointed hat with its nodding plumes upon
his dark, curly hair, in which showed here and there a few silver streaks,
and grasped the long gloves firmly in his right hand, sparkling with
brilliant rings.

"Open the doors!" he said authoritatively, and the chamberlain flew before
him, and tore open both halves of the folding doors. The two halberdiers,
who stood near the door on the other side, raised their halberds, and
proclaimed with thundering voices, "His excellency and grace, count of the
empire and Stadtholder in the Mark!"

Through the two long apartments, on both sides of which was ranged a dense
crowd of people of all sorts--men and women, venerable magistrates in
solemn robes of office, and soldiers in their uniforms, poorly clad
citizens and fine-dressed gentlemen, bold-looking young ladies and
respectable matrons in white garbs of widowhood--through both these long
apartments flew, as it were, one sigh, one joyful breath of relief and
surprise, and all faces, the sad and bright, the eyes reddened by wine and
night watches, as well as those sparkling with avarice and passion, all
turned toward the lofty, full form of the Stadtholder, who, so proud and
so brilliant, so august and self-conscious, stood upon the threshold of
the door. He gave no salutation; not in the least did he incline his head,
but with one sharp look let his large, gray eyes glide up and down on both
sides; and this look sufficed to cause all heads to sink in reverence, to
bow the proud and humble necks, so deeply, so reverentially, that high and
low, old and young, poor and rich were now all one and the same--the
petitioners of the electoral minister, the almighty Stadtholder in the
Mark!

He now strode forward, followed by the two pages with their empty baskets.
But these baskets were soon filled, for at each step forward a hand was
stretched out to the count, handing him a written petition, and the count
took it smilingly, and with distinguished indifference cast it into one of
the proffered baskets. But before those who had come without written
requests, and entreated a gracious personal hearing, the Stadtholder
paused, and they began hurriedly, and with embarrassment, because they
feared being heard by their neighbors, to state their wishes. It seldom
happened, however, that the count allowed them to speak to the end,
interrupting them in the midst of their speech with a hasty, "Commit it to
writing! commit it to writing!" and striding on with the same lofty
bearing, the same proud, imperturbable equanimity. Only when he neared the
spot where stood the delegates of the citizens of Berlin and Cologne a
cloud overshadowed his brow, and a flash of anger shot from his eyes.

He stopped before the burgers, and looked at them with an expression of
cold, scornful repose.

"What do you want of me?" he asked.

"Help in our need, most gracious excellency," began the spokesman, "pity
for our misfortunes! We can not pay the new war tax, we--"

"Ah! just see," the count interrupted him mockingly; "now you come to me,
to sue for my favor. Your visit, then, to his Electoral Grace, has been in
vain. The Elector has not granted the shameless petition of the
citizenship; he has not encroached upon the rights of the Stadtholder
appointed by himself to rule here in his stead. You have thought to
circumvent me, and hardly has the lord of the land come hither before you
must gain favors from himself. Well, see what favors you have obtained!
Hardly an hour ago you walked with quick, proud steps into the castle of
his Electoral Grace, and now you stand with humble, sad countenances in
the antechamber of the Stadtholder in the Mark! What will you have here,
and what have those to do with the Stadtholder who can converse with the
Elector himself?"

"Pardon, your excellency, as faithful and humble children of the country,
we turned first to our father and lord--"

"Now stick to that!" interrupted the count warmly, "and desire not to
obtain from me what the fatherly heart of your beloved liege lord has
denied you. Go, and never again appear in these parts! And you, too, my
lords, deputies from the duchy of Cleves," continued the count, striding
forward toward the deputies--"you, too, might reasonably have spared
yourselves the trouble of appearing here. Who has enjoyed the honor of
being received by his Electoral Highness need have no necessity for
antechambering at the house of his minister and Stadtholder, for all
favors and all honors flow from the almighty and exalted person of the
Elector himself, and what he has done is good, and what he has said stands
fast and is the law. Therefore, also, whoever has obtained dismissal from
his Electoral Grace need no more turn to me, for the sun has shone upon
him, and like myself he stands in the shade."

With these ambiguous words the Stadtholder moved forward, leaving the
deputies covered with shame and swelling with indignation, while his
countenance had speedily brightened. With more friendly gestures he now
accepted the written petitions, and even listened patiently and
condescendingly to those who had only come with oral supplications;
promised them redress for their difficulties, exhorted them with loud
voice to place confidence in their Stadtholder, appointed by the Elector,
and to be assured that whoever turned to him would not sue and plead in
vain, if his cause were just, fair, and practicable.

When the count had finished his circuit and stood again at his cabinet
door, the baskets were piled high with written petitions, and the count,
pointing to these with outstretched right hand, on whose fingers sparkled
many a costly jewel, asseverated with loud voice that he would himself
open, read, and examine all these writings, and do whatever was in his
power. Then, with a short, gracious nod of dismissal, he retired into his
cabinet, followed by the two pages with their baskets.




IV.--SOLDIERS AND DIPLOMATISTS.


Awaiting Count von Schwarzenberg in his cabinet were the four officers
whom the lackey had conducted there in obedience to his instructions. They
grew dumb in the midst of their conversation when the count entered, and
stood up, saluting him in stiff and military style. Count Schwarzenberg
nodded to them in a friendly manner, and an obliging smile played about
his thin and finely cut lips.

"Put the baskets on my writing table and go out," he commanded the pages,
and then turned toward the gentlemen, who still stood there with soldierly
stiffness.

"Welcome, my lord general, and you, sirs colonels," he said in playful,
jocular tone. "Truly, it is a pleasure to see one's self surrounded by
such valiant soldiers. If my gracious master the Elector had as many such
splendid soldiers as he has leaders, he would be helped indeed, and not
find it necessary to battle with the Swedes for his dukedom of Pomerania,
for then would the Swedes soon run off conquered."

"Just imagine, your excellency," cried Colonel Conrad von Burgsdorf, while
he stroked his long, gray mustache with his broad fat hand--"just imagine
what respect the Swedes would have for such a regiment composed of
Klitzings, Rochows, and Krachts."

"You forget yourself, Sir Colonel," said Count Schwarzenberg, in a
friendly, insinuating tone; "you forget to say that Conrad von Burgsdorf
alone is a whole regiment in himself."

"Perhaps that is the reason why I have in fact nothing behind me," cried
Colonel von Burgsdorf, with a loud, coarse laugh. "Yes, yes, now I know
why I have so few soldiers behind me; the others all concentrate in me,
and it is merely a pity and shame that they can not come forth from me to
make front against the cursed Swedes."

"They will come forth now, depend upon it; they will come forth," said
the count, with a pleasant smile. "My lords, I have had you summoned to
confer with you about important and significant tidings. In the first
place, we shall consider what relates to yourselves, and is therefore of
greatest interest to you. General von Klitzing, henceforth you shall have
no cause to complain of having a title but no employment. For from this
very day you shall have employment, since his Electoral Grace designs
forthwith to have regiments equipped and brought into the field."

"Hurrah! now for it!" shouted Burgsdorf, waving his right arm.

"I shout hurrah, too, with your excellency's permission," said General
von Klitzing joyfully. "It has been three months since your excellency did
me the favor to recall me here from the Saxon service in order to assume
the command of the Brandenburg troops, and I have been in despair ever
since, for it has been just like acting a comedy, where they fight with
pasteboard swords and tin soldiers."

"That was the fault of the states and cities, who would not grant the
Elector taxes for the equipment of regiments," returned the count, with
emphasis. "Besides, ever since the peace of Prague the Elector has been
pledged to neutrality. And if you can take part neither for nor against,
can fight neither for friend nor foe, then it is better to have no
soldiers, and no swords that can not be unsheathed. But now all will be
different, and therefore the Elector nominates you, General von Klitzing,
commandant general of all the Brandenburg fortresses, their garrisons, and
all the electoral forces collectively."

"That is indeed an important and honorable appointment," cried the
general, "and I shall esteem myself happy if I can now succeed in bringing
the electoral forces into action."

"That must be done the first thing, general, yes, indeed, that must be
done," cried Burgsdorf, laughing. "Alack! up to this time we have had no
soldiers, for the couple of wretched fellows in each of the forts and the
Elector's bodyguard could hardly be accounted such, and made but a poor
show."

"Upon you, gentlemen, upon you it will henceforth devolve to create an
army," said Schwarzenberg solemnly. "Colonel von Kracht, in virtue of my
office as Stadtholder in the Mark, I this day pronounce you commandant of
the fortresses of Berlin and Cologne; with the same fullness of power, I
appoint you, Colonel von Rochow, commandant of Spandow; and lastly you,
Colonel von Burgsdorf, I constitute commandant of the Fortress Kuestrin."

"I should have been better pleased if you had made me commandant of
Berlin," growled Conrad von Burgsdorf. "They lead such a dull, wearisome
life at Fortress Kuestrin, and I wish that Kracht and I could change places
with one another. He knows the people of Kuestrin well, and understands how
to get along with them, for the late commandant of Kuestrin was his father.
Let us exchange with one another, von Kracht--here is my hand, give me
yours! You are commandant of Kuestrin and I of Berlin!"

"Slowly, colonel," replied Baron von Kracht; "we must yield to order and
authority, and submit ourselves to whatever the Stadtholder in the Mark
has found good to arrange for us."

"Well said, Sir Commandant of Berlin!" cried Schwarzenberg. "I was silent,
because I wished to hear your answer. It follows, therefore, Colonel von
Burgsdorf, that you go as commandant to Fortress Kuestrin."

"I know very well that you send me away to remove me as far as possible
from your residence Berlin," growled Burgsdorf. "You can not bear to see
that the Elector is attached to me, and calls me his friend. You can not
bear that another should execute and perform what you yourself can not
execute and perform. I saw plainly yesterday the look of hatred and ill
will which you darted at me, across the Elector's table, while the great
drinking match that I had proposed was going on. It was right plain to be
seen how much vexed you were, that there was anything in which Conrad von
Burgsdorf could excel the wise, the learned, and the most worshipful Count
Adam von Schwarzenberg."

"Well! you really suppose that I could be envious and jealous?" cried the
count, laughing. "No, most worthy colonel, with my whole heart I yield you
the palm for being the first and most rapid drinker at the electoral
court, and for emptying a quart cup of wine at one draught."

"And it is no trifling art, you must know, Sir Count," said Burgsdorf,
with an important air. "Think not that it is a mere pleasure--no, it is a
task too, and at times a difficult one."

"We did not observe it as such yesterday, Colonel von Burgsdorf," retorted
the count. "You proved yourself yesterday a truly intrepid hero in
drinking at the electoral table. For it is in fact an heroic deed to quaff
eighteen quarts of wine in one hour, as you did yesterday."

"Well," said Burgsdorf, flattered, "we had a drinking-match, and the
Elector had offered a fine prize to the best drinker. I had long desired
to obtain possession of the pretty and flourishing little village Danzien,
and, behold! this was the very prize the Elector had offered; so I was
obliged to do what I could, and have to thank God that I came off victor.
I drank all the other gentlemen under the table, and was alone left
standing, with my eighteen quarts of wine aboard." [10]

"Now," said the Stadtholder, smiling, "I think you did not leave me under
the table, for I kept erect in spite of you, Colonel Burgsdorf. I hope
also to keep my position yet longer, and never to be thrust under the
table by you."

He looked full in the colonel's bloated and wine-flushed face with a cold,
proud glance, and smiled when he saw how Burgsdorf's brow darkened and his
eyes flashed with fierce hatred.

"You will remain standing, Sir Stadtholder, so long as God and the Elector
please," said Burgsdorf slowly. "Many an one falls, and under the table,
too, although he may not be drunk with wine, but with pride and ambition,
avarice and rapacity."

"Enough, Burgsdorf, enough," replied the count haughtily. "I did not
summon you here to hold with you a controversy about words, for well do I
know that you are as mighty in words as in drinking. I have had you
summoned that you might receive your orders, and do and perform whatever
the Stadtholder in the Mark commands and enjoins upon you, in the names of
the Emperor's Majesty and his Electoral Grace. General von Klitzing, I
have nominated you commander in chief of all the fortifications, as you,
Colonels von Kracht, von Rochow, and von Burgsdorf, commandants of Berlin,
Spandow, and Kuestrin. You may perceive from this that a new era has
dawned, and that we have great things to expect from the future. Gentlemen,
the time for waiting and delay is past. The Elector has concluded a treaty
with the Emperor, by which the Emperor declares that the dukedom of
Pomerania is the natural heritage of the Elector of Brandenburg, and
invests him with it. It is true that at present the Swedes occupy
Pomerania, and will not evacuate. But to that very end we must labor, to
force the presumptuous Swedes to do this; and thereto the Elector has
pledged himself to raise an army of five-and-twenty thousand men. To
superintend these levies is the affair of the colonels and staff officers,
therefore also your affair."

"The only question is, where is the money to come from to effect such
levies," said General Klitzing.

"Yes, that is the question," exclaimed the three colonels impatiently.

"And the answer runs: The Emperor's Majesty has assigned money for that
purpose. The Emperor's Majesty has granted the Elector a release from the
payment of two hundred Roman-months which the Elector owed him, and with
these two hundred Roman-months, which amount to three hundred and
sixty-five thousand florins, troops are to be levied. But besides this,
the Emperor expressly adds sixty thousand dollars, to be employed in
enlisting soldiers; and the money will be paid out to those leaders and
colonels who have recruited such and such a number of soldiers. For each
soldier they get eight rixdollars."

"I shall recruit!" shouted Burgsdorf. "I shall go as commandant to
Kuestrin, and enlist a regiment besides!"

"It is a matter of course that we all recruit," said General von Klitzing,
"for such is the command and desire of the Elector, and him as our
commander in chief we are bound to obey."

"By no means, general!" cried the count hastily. "Your commander in chief
is the Emperor of Germany. The soldiers whom you shall enlist will of
course be subject to the command of the Elector, but they must take an
oath of allegiance to the Emperor and the empire, which runs thus, that
they will be obedient to the Emperor, and in his stead to the Elector of
Brandenburg, in order that the dukedom of Pomerania be recovered to the
Elector, its natural sovereign.[11] According to the compact between the
Emperor and the Elector, the official oath of military governors must also
conform to this formula, and the commandants of fortresses be taken into
the service of the Emperor and the empire. First and foremost is the
obedience and fealty they owe to the Emperor."

"I do not understand that; it does not penetrate through my thick skull!"
cried Burgsdorf impatiently. "How will it be if the Emperor's commands go
counter to those of the Elector? If the Emperor orders us to do _this_,
and the Elector _that_?"

"That will never happen," replied the count gravely.

"The Elector is much too loyal and faithful a vassal of the Emperor not to
coincide always with the latter's gracious purposes and desires. I have
now told you all that it is needful for you to know, have given you your
commissions and announced your several ranks, and it only remains to
administer to you the prescribed oath. In view of my absolute power as
Stadtholder in the Mark, and as head of the electoral council of war, I
will now receive your oath of fidelity to the Emperor and the Elector, and
you must engage and swear to fulfill constantly and faithfully your duties
to Emperor, empire, and Elector."

And just as the count dictated, without delay or contradiction, the four
lords repeated the formula of the oath, and swore obedience, good faith,
and service, first to the Emperor and the empire, and then to the Elector
of Brandenburg. Thereupon the count dismissed them, exhorting them to
repair instantly to their fortresses, and there to begin enlisting
soldiers for the army of the Elector.

The count's countenance cleared up and assumed a triumphant expression
when the four officers had left his cabinet, and he was now once more
alone.

"I shall now be rid of that quarrelsome and dangerous man, Burgsdorf," he
said complacently, as he sank apparently exhausted into an easy chair. "I
have rendered him harmless and shoved him aside without his being really
conscious of it. He does not suspect that we advanced and promoted the
others only to remove him, Burgsdorf, to a distance, without exciting
remark or scandal, and in order to be freed from his scurrilous tongue and
insolent presence. I am truly glad and content that we have succeeded in
this, and at the same time have taken these unreflecting and short-sighted
gentlemen into service and allegiance to the Emperor and the empire." With
a hurried "Who is there?" the count interrupted himself, starting from his
seat. "Who dares to enter here unannounced?"

"I dare," said an earnest voice, and a tall, slender gentleman, wholly
enveloped in a heavy traveling coat, his head covered with a great fur
cap, strode through the apartment toward the count.

"Count Lesle, lord high chamberlain to the Emperor!" exclaimed the
Stadtholder in surprise. "Is it you? Are you direct from Regensburg?"

"Yes, Count Schwarzenberg, I have come here direct from Regensburg, to
depart again without delay. My traveling carriage stands without before
your door, and I shall presently enter it, and journey hence again. You
will on that account excuse my want of ceremony, but as the Emperor
Ferdinand permits me to enter his apartments at any time, I thought that
the Stadtholder of the Mark would not be less affable. Moreover, I could
not send in my name, for no one besides yourself is to know of my being
here, and I wish to travel _incognito_. Will you, then, pardon me, Count
Schwarzenberg, and am I excused?"

"I am the one to sue for forgiveness, on account of my impatience, and I
do so most cordially. And now I entreat you, count, first of all, make
yourself comfortable. Permit me to assist you in laying aside your
cumbrous traveling habit, and accept some ease and refreshment."

With officious zeal he busied himself in aiding his visitor to emerge from
his wrappings, and soon Count Lesle stood before the Stadtholder of the
Mark in the beautiful, unique Spanish garb, such as was worn at the
imperial court.

"How glorious you look in those magnificent velvet robes!" cried Count
Schwarzenberg, with a sigh, "and how much your Spanish costume makes me
long for the sumptuous life of the imperial court! Ah! my dear count, here
among us you find hardly a trace of this costly, splendid living, and an
imperial valet or house servant has more pleasure and enjoyment than an
Electoral Stadtholder in the Mark."

"Yet it is a fine and sonorous title," said Count Lesle, smiling, while he
stretched himself out comfortably in the great armchair which Count
Schwarzenberg had rolled forward for him, "and it is also a great and
influential office. The Emperor's Majesty knows very well what a mighty
and potent man the Stadtholder in the Mark is, and that Count
Schwarzenberg is really Elector of Brandenburg."

"His Imperial Majesty knows, too, that I have never yet ceased to be the
faithful and devoted servant of the Emperor," cried Schwarzenberg, at the
same time drawing a simple chair to the side of the count's fauteuil, and
seating himself upon it. "His Imperial Majesty knows, I hope, that first
and above all other things I place my duty to the Emperor, and that I have
no higher aim than to subserve the interests of his Imperial Majesty."

"Yes, the Emperor, our most gracious Sovereign, knows that," said Count
Lesle feelingly. "He does not for a moment doubt the fidelity and
attachment of the Stadtholder in the Mark, who has always been mindful
that the Elector is only the Emperor's vassal, and the Emperor the real
lord of the whole German Empire."

"And to maintain this relation intact, yes, that is what I have made the
greatest task of my life," cried Schwarzenberg, with animation. "It is a
task, in truth, not easy to be accomplished, for the Emperor's supreme
Government has many enemies here at the electoral court, and very many
there are here who maintain that Brandenburg should free herself entirely
from imperial vassalage, and that the Elector should be sole lord within
his own domains. But now, dearest lord high chamberlain and count, tell me
wherefore you have come here so unexpectedly, and what news do you bring
from Regensburg?"

"Very serious and very subtle news I bring with me, count," replied Count
Lesle, "and of such a tender, delicate nature that we could not willingly
entrust it to paper, even in cipher, but could only transmit it from my
lips to your ear, and thence to the locked-up recesses of your breast.
Therefore I have come to you, and need hardly say that not a breath of our
conversation is to escape, and that nobody must know of my having been
here. The question is about the Electoral Prince of Brandenburg--that
young man who has already tarried more than three years in the
Netherlands, and is imbibing there the hated poison of insubordination and
passion for freedom. It is high time that the Electoral Prince were
recalled."

"Recalled!" cried Count Schwarzenberg, starting up amazed. "But, Count
Lesle, you do not know the Electoral Prince. You do not know the danger
that would accrue now if this restless, ambitious, and fiery young man
were to return home. My enemies and the secret opponents of the Emperor
here desire nothing more ardently than just this very thing, and the
Rochows and Schoenungs and all the reformers have already brought matters
to such a pass that the Elector himself presses most urgently for his
son's return home, and has even peremptorily required it of him. It is a
plot of all the Swedish wellwishers, all the anti-imperialists of this
court, believe me. They wish to place the Electoral Prince at their head,
and hope by this means to bring it about that the weak and vacillating
Elector shall secede from the Emperor and ally himself with the Swedes.
They teased and goaded the Elector, until he even sent his Chamberlain von
Schlieben to The Hague in order to fetch the Prince, and the latter has
but to-day returned from his vain expedition."

"From his vain expedition, do you say? The Electoral Prince remains at The
Hague, then, despite the strict commands, the pressing messages of his
father? You see by that what fruit his stay at The Hague has already
produced, and that the poison which he has imbibed there is even now at
work. The Electoral Prince seems to be thoughtful and studious. And so
much the more dangerous is it to leave him any longer at The Hague, where
all are ill disposed toward the Spaniards, where is to be found the real
hearthstone of the great European opposition to the house of Hapsburg,
where the Prince of Orange is his instructor in the art of war, and can
educate him to be a skillful and dangerous warrior and an enemy of the
Emperor."

"All that is very true!" said Schwarzenberg gloomily. "But for all that he
is less to be dreaded there than here, where he would cross all our plans
and bring to nothing all our schemes. The Electoral Prince is a dangerous
opponent, believe me. There is something bewitching in his character, and
he would be in a position either to carry the Elector along with him in
his career or to induce George William to follow his father's example, and
resign the government in favor of his son, the Electoral Prince Frederick
William. And do you know, Count Lesle, what would be the first act of
Frederick William's reign? To depose me, to take all power out of my
hands, and to institute a new course of policy for the house of
Brandenburg!"

"Only get him here first, count, and then it is your affair to guard
against this extreme. Take example from what happened on one occasion in
Spain, where also rioters and innovators thronged around the heir to the
throne, by his abettance to overturn existing institutions and hurl the
King from his throne. My God! You know the story of King Philip and his
son Carlos. Hardly fifty years have elapsed since then. Profit by this
example, and learn from this story that if the son is dangerous, you have
only to render him suspected by his father, and he becomes innocuous. If
the son is the enemy of his father, then the father must also be made the
enemy of his son, that in this way an equilibrium be preserved. You are
much too great a statesman and too acute a diplomatist not to know how to
act in this matter. But the urgency of the case is pressing. You must have
him under your own eyes, under your own guardianship."

"It is true," said Schwarzenberg thoughtfully, "he imbibes deadly poison
there, and is quite too enthusiastic in his admiration of the Protestant
leader, the Prince of Orange. His letters to his parents overflow with
enthusiasm for the Orange general, whom he calls his master and teacher
in the art of war, and lavishes upon him extravagant praise."

"And they are giving themselves trouble enough to link the young Prince
yet more closely to the house of Orange, and the enemies of Spain and
Hapsburg," said Count Lesle emphatically. "The Emperor has obtained exact
accounts as to the practices going on at The Hague, whereby the Electoral
Prince may be brought into the land of Cleves and united by marriage with
the Palatinate house, whereby he may be brought equally under the
influence of the sovereign States and the Prince of Orange, and estranged
from the Holy Roman Empire.[12]

"He is to marry a princess of the Palatinate!" exclaimed the Stadtholder.
"Ah! now I understand why the Electress, despite her tender love for her
only son, constantly endeavors to keep him away, and to prolong his stay
at The Hague. I always thought until now that it was on my account. I
thought that the Electress believed me to have evil and malign intentions
with regard to the Electoral Prince, and for that reason alone was opposed
to her son's return. But now I see into it; she is for this Palatinate
marriage, she wishes by that means to bind her son more closely to her own
house and its interests, to alienate him further from the Emperor and the
Holy Roman Empire. It is the daughter of the banished Bohemian King, the
Princess Ludovicka Hollandine, who is to be the tie to unite him to Orange
and the Palatinate. All this becomes suddenly clear to me, and I can not
imagine how I could have been so blind and so innocent as not to have
divined and penetrated into this earlier. The Electoral Prince does,
indeed, in each of his letters make mention of the little household over
which the banished Bohemian Queen, the Electress of the Palatinate,
presides at Doornward, not far from The Hague."

"She has now removed her residence farther, to The Hague itself," said
Count Lesle dryly; "without doubt, because winter approaches, and it will
be more comfortable for the Electoral Prince not to find it necessary to
travel that long way to Doornward to see his dearly beloved one. She must
be quite a pretty girl, the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine, and, moreover,
of very tender complexion, and not at all disposed to play the prude with
the young, handsome Electoral Prince, who seems particularly to please
her."

"And the Electress is particularly partial to her sister-in-law, the
Electress of the Palatinate," said Schwarzenberg thoughtfully. "Tears
always come into her eyes whenever she speaks of her, and calls to mind
her brother's unhappy fate.[13] It would, indeed, be for the advantage of
her house if the daughter of her banished brother should again exalt the
honor of her family, and find in Brandenburg amends for the lost
Palatinate. For when women take it into their heads to meddle with
politics, then are their hearts always interested; and even in politics,
match making is their especial delight. Yes, yes, Count Lesle, I see into
it now; you are right. The Electoral Prince is to wed the Palatinate
Princess, and the Electress favors this match."

"But the Emperor would be displeased at it in the highest degree," cried
Count Lesle. "It is therefore impossible that this alliance take place.
You must do everything to prevent the Elector from granting his consent,
and however many are for it, and blow upon one horn, yet the Elector must
strike no note in harmony with this Palatinate marriage."[14]

"No, the Elector will not and shall not," replied the count decidedly. "It
is for me to prevent him, and--You are indeed right. There is nothing left
to be done but to summon the Electoral Prince from The Hague."

"It would be pleasant to the Emperor if the Electoral Prince came to his
court," remarked Count Lesle; "it would be a token of confidence, and make
an impression throughout the Holy Roman Empire upon friend and foe."

"Alas! the most important requisite of all is wanting--we want money,"
sighed Count Schwarzenberg, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, that shall furnish no ground for objection, Sir Stadtholder. The
Emperor commissioned me expressly to announce to you that his Imperial
Majesty would gladly hold himself ready to furnish some assistance, yes,
if needful, all the money required for the expenses of this journey.[15]
And the Emperor would not be niggardly with his supplies of money for
traveling, but give such sums that the Electoral Prince need not come
merely to his Majesty at Vienna, but also make a little excursion to
Innsprueck. For at Innsprueck the Archduke Leopold now holds his court, and
the Electoral Prince could not fail to enjoy himself there, for the court
at Innsprueck is brilliantly gay, and the archduke's youthful daughter,
Clara Isabella, is peculiarly fond of pleasure, and is a beautiful and
attractive young lady."

With a sudden movement of the head Count Schwarzenberg turned toward
Lesle. "You do not mean it?" he asked hesitatingly.

Count Lesle nodded. "It is much to be desired," he said, smiling.

"But I fear it is impossible!" cried Schwarzenberg. "Every one here will
be opposed to it; no one in favor of it. It is simply not to be thought
of, and impossible that the Electoral Prince should marry a Catholic."

"It only seems probable, and to effect it, it is only necessary to go to
work in the right way," said Count Lesle quietly. "You see by yourself how
the inconceivable can still become matter of reality. Would it not have
been supposed impossible that at this court, where there are none but
heretics, where Reformers and Lutherans contend for precedence, that a
Catholic and an imperialist could have become prime minister and
confidential adviser to the Elector? And yet so it is, and for twenty
years past the Catholic Count Schwarzenberg has been the favorite and I
may say the controller of the Elector of Brandenburg. And why should not
the Catholic minister and Stadtholder be able to negotiate a Catholic
alliance? You underrate your power, count, and are by far too modest."

"Say rather I know the ground on which I tread, Count Lesle. Believe me,
it is slippery and marshy soil, and a single incautious step may cause me
to sink."

"Then guard against an incautious step, but advance boldly forward in the
interests of his Imperial Majesty, and be assured that Ferdinand will
prove himself to be a grateful and a gracious lord. And now, count, you
know all that I came to communicate to you, and it is time for me to set
out again."

"Will you set forth again so soon, Count Lesle, before you have done me
the honor of taking a little breakfast and drinking a glass of wine with
me?"

"Thank you, count, thank you most cordially. You know well, however, that
the master's business is before all things else. My imperial master awaits
me at Regensburg, and I shall then have the honor of being permitted to
accompany him to Vienna. His Imperial Majesty is a strict and punctilious
lord, and has calculated to the very day and hour when I may again reach
the imperial palace. For our interview here he allowed me one hour; and,
lo! the cock of your great wall clock had just stepped out and crowed
eleven as I entered your room, and is already here, crowing twelve as loud
as he can. It is therefore time for me to depart. I have briefly made you
acquainted with the Emperor's intentions and desires, and your wise and
fertile brain will know how to enlarge and construe. Farewell, Sir
Stadtholder in the Mark, farewell, and may every blessing attend you!"

Count Lesle had risen and drawn his fur cap once more far over his brow.
Schwarzenberg assisted him to don his ample and heavy wrappings, and then
escorted him to the door.

"Permit me at least to conduct you to your carriage, Count Lesle," he said.

"Impossible, count; that would excite remark among your people, and give
rise to conjectures on all sides. I gave myself out on entering as one of
your officials from Sonnenburg, and your dignity does not suffer you to
act toward your officials as toward an equal. Farewell, then!"

Count Lesle stepped out briskly, and hurriedly closed the palace door.
Schwarzenberg stood listening to the retreating footsteps of the imperial
legate until they died away in the long corridor. Then he slowly turned
away and sank with a sigh into the armchair which Count Lesle had recently
occupied.

"Strange tidings those," he muttered to himself. "I must now then adopt a
wholly different line of action--must derange and newly model all my
plans. What I would altogether avoid I must now do--must recall the
Electoral Prince; must yield to him the precedence at court, both in rank
and position; must--" All at once he started up and shrank, as if a sudden
flash of lightning had interrupted his train of thought. "If it must be,"
he said quite softly to himself, "if nothing else is left for me, and I
see myself in danger, then I will do it. I shall resort to this last
expedient."

But even while he pronounced the words he grew pale and cast around him a
timid, anxious glance, as if he dreaded being overheard by some traitorous
ear. Then he leaned his head upon the back of the armchair, and sat, long,
silent, and motionless, wholly absorbed in deep and earnest thought.

"Yes, it shall be so," he said at last. "He must leave The Hague; but it
does not signify necessarily that he will arrive here so soon. The way is
long, the roads are unsafe, and he must travel cautiously and
circumspectly, for many cutthroats wander about, and who knows whether the
Swedes may not make the attempt to capture and carry off the young Prince,
or murder him, that he may not some day contest with them the possession
of Pomerania. All this must, indeed, be risked; then--Master Gabriel
Nietzel must nevertheless still go to The Hague; only I shall give him
other instructions, and he will have a wholly different errand to fulfill.
Yes, yes, it shall be so; I shall have him summoned directly."

He had already stretched out his hand for the whistle, when the outer door
opened, and the valet entered.

"Pardon, your excellency. A lackey has just come from the palace. The
Elector begs and entreats of your grace that you will have the kindness to
repair forthwith to the Elector's residence."

"Present my respects to the Elector, and say that I shall do myself the
honor of waiting upon him. Go, tell the lackey that, and have my carriage
of state ordered out forthwith."

"Most gracious sir, I beg your pardon, but your excellency can not
possibly go in the great carriage of state."

"Well, and why not?"

"Your excellency knows that it has been raining four days without
intermission, and the ground is so soaked through that a man can not cross
the streets or square without sinking up to his knees, how much less then
a heavy vehicle. The carriage of the strange gentleman who has just been
with your excellency remained stuck fast a few steps from here, and the
coachman and footman, with a couple of our stableboys, are still busied in
trying to pull it out of the mud."

"Heaven defend us!" cried the count, traversing the apartment with rapid
strides; "then I must go myself directly and help the gentleman--"

But he suddenly bethought himself, and slowly stepped back from the door.
"With the help of my stableboys, he must already be again on the road--my
official from Sonnenburg," he said. "You think, then, that I can not take
the great coach of state?"

"Not possibly, gracious sir. It is a morass, such as has not been for ages,
and the townspeople have already brought out their mud carriages again."

"What is that? What are mud carriages?"

"Your excellency, I mean the stilts on which they parade around when the
mud is very bad."

The count laughed. "The end of it is that nothing is left for me to do but
to betake myself to stilts likewise in order to reach the electoral
palace."

"It would be the easiest way, indeed," replied the lackey; "only it is not
quite consistent with respect. But the great coach can not go."

"Then let them take my light hunting chaise, and attach four of my best
coursers. In ten minutes I must be in the carriage."




V.--THE ELECTOR AND HIS FAVORITE.


In exactly ten minutes the hunting chaise stood in the inner court of the
count's palace, and, as this was paved with huge granite flagstones, the
count succeeded in reaching his carriage without spattering his white silk
stockings, extending as far as the knee, or soiling his delicate velvet
slippers, with their brilliant buckles and high red heels. Then the
lackeys opened the great trellised gate of gilded iron, and with loud
thundering the carriage rolled from the court out into the street. The
coachman lashed the air with his whip, and the four coursers flew, hardly
touching the ground with their pretty feet. The mud, to be true, splashed
in mighty waves from the wheels and hoofs, giving the benefit of its
floods to many an honest burger's wife who could not on her stilts
immediately escape; often, indeed, was heard the anguished squeak or
piteous howl of some sucking pig or dog over which the hunting equipage
had rolled; but it paused not for these, and in a few moments halted in
safety before the mean little portal of that small, dark mansion, honored
with the title of the Elector's residential palace, which was situated on
the other side of the cathedral square, near the Spree and the pleasure
garden.

Before the portal stood a wretched carriage, covered with mud and drawn by
four raw-boned horses, whose trappings and harness were wholly wanting in
polish and neatness.

"The Elector means to ride out, it seems," said the count to himself, with
a contemptuous glance at the poor electoral equipage.

"Drive a little aside!" screamed the count's well-dressed coachman from
his box. "Let his excellency the Stadtholder drive up to the door, for it
is just impossible for the count to alight here in this mud."

But the coachman only shook his head proudly, in token of refusal, and
darted a look full of inexpressible contempt upon the Stadtholder's
presumptuous driver.

"Drive out of the way!" shouted the count's coachman.

"Here I stand, and here I mean to stay until the Elector comes!"

"Let him remain, William, and speak not another word," commanded Count
Schwarzenberg. "Drive my carriage up so close to the electoral carriage
that I can conveniently step in."

The coachman obeyed, and the electoral charioteer, who had begun the
contention with the supercilious driver of the Stadtholder with inward
satisfaction, and hoped for a long protraction of the same, now felt
himself foiled, and saw with inexpressible astonishment the coachman turn
around, with rapid sweep make the circuit of the square, and draw up close
beside the electoral equipage. Before he yet comprehended the object of
this manoeuvre, the count had stretched forth his arm, opened with his own
hand the door of the electoral coach, stepped into it, opened the door on
the other side, and stepped out on the broad leather-covered plank which
extended like a sort of drawbridge from the threshold of the palace garden
to the electoral carriage.

"Bravo, Schwarzenberg, bravo!" called out a laughing voice, and as the
count, standing midway on the plank, looked up, he saw the Elector above
at the open window, nodding to him with friendly gesture, and greeting him
with a cheerful smile.

"That was good for the brazen scoundrel, Fritz Long," called down the
Elector; "how could the rascal dare not to move out of the way for the
Stadtholder?"

"He did right, your Electoral Grace!" called up Schwarzenberg, as he
hastily doffed his gold-edged hat with its waving plumes, and bowed so low
that the tips of the white feathers surmounting the black ones touched the
damp ground.

"Put on your hat, and come up," said the Elector. "It is cold down there."

"Only permit me first, most gracious sir, to do a little act of justice,"
cried Schwarzenberg, turning with a pleasant smile to the electoral
coachman, who stared at him with sullen mien.

"Fritz Long," he said, with amiable condescension--"Fritz Long, you have
acted as became a brave and trusty electoral coachman. You are perfectly
right; you must never drive out of the way, even should the Emperor of the
Holy Roman Empire himself come to visit the Elector. In recognition of
your honesty and truth, accept this present from me."

And the count drew from the side pocket of his richly embroidered vest two
gold pieces, and laid them in the immense hand, gloved in a dirty, yellow
gauntlet, which the Elector's joyfully surprised state coachman reached
out to him. The count again nodded affably to him, and passed through the
palace portal. "I hope," he said to himself, while he slowly ascended the
broad wooden stairs--"I hope that in the next riot my fellows will
properly punish the shameless rascal, and take out the two gold coins I
have given him in little pieces on his broad back."

The Elector advanced as far as the antechamber to meet his beloved
minister, and opened the door himself. "Listen, Schwarzenberg," he said,
with a smile; "you are such a capital man. You know how to help in all
emergencies, and even when they drive you into the deepest mud you know
how to come forth dry-shod and clean."

"Well, I may indeed have learned something of diplomacy and strategy at
the electoral court," answered the minister, at the same time offering
the support of his shoulder to assist the Elector in returning to his
cabinet. "Your grace has summoned me, and I feared lest intelligence of a
disquieting nature had reached your highness, the--"

"Very disquieting intelligence, indeed," sighed the Elector, as he sank
down groaning into his leather armchair. "But I suppose you know it
already. Schlieben is back, and our son comes not with him; he only writes
us a lamentable letter, in which he explains that he can not come home at
this season of the year, and in the present conjunction of the times."

"But that is rebellion!" exclaimed Schwarzenberg warmly; "that is putting
himself in downright opposition to his Sovereign and his father!"

"You look upon it in that light too, then, Schwarzenberg?" asked George
William. "You agree with me that the Electoral Prince has acted like a
disobedient son and disrespectful subject?"

"Oh, my God!" sighed Schwarzenberg; "would that I could not agree with
your highness! Would that an excuse might be found for this conduct of the
Electoral Prince! It is painful to see how boldly the young gentleman
dares to resist the supremacy of his father."

"It is rebellion, is it not?" asked George, his excitement waxing
continually. "We send our own Chamberlain Schlieben to The Hague; we write
our son a letter with our own hand, enjoining him to return home; we,
moreover, inform him verbally through Schlieben of the urgent necessity of
his return, and still our son insists that he will remain at The Hague,
and has the spirit to send Schlieben home without accompanying him."

"That is indeed to put himself in open opposition and rebellion against
his most gracious lord and father. And now your Electoral Highness must
persist in requiring the Electoral Prince to set out and come back."

"He must and shall come back, must he not? The Electress, indeed,
intercedes for him, and would gladly persuade us that we should grant our
son one year's longer sojourn at The Hague, to perfect himself in all
sorts of knowledge."

"Your highness," said Schwarzenberg softly, edging himself closer to the
Elector's ear--"your highness, the Electress knows very well that the
Electoral Prince has something in view at The Hague totally different from
the acquisition of knowledge."

"Well, and what may that be?"

"A marriage, your highness. A marriage with the daughter of the widowed
Electress of the Palatinate--with the fair Ludovicka Hollandine."

"That would indeed he a fine, plausible marriage!" cried the Elector,
starting up. "A Princess of nothing, the daughter of an outlawed Prince,
put under the ban by the Emperor!"

"But this Prince was the Electress's brother. It would be very pleasant to
her grace's tender heart to exalt her prostrate house once more and bring
it into consideration again, and she would therefore gladly see her
brother's daughter some day a reigning Princess. Besides, the future
Electress would then owe her mother-in-law a lifelong debt of gratitude,
and the Dowager Electress might exert great influence and share in the
government of her son."


"Yes, indeed, they all count upon my death," groaned the Elector; "they
all long for the time when I shall be gathered to my fathers. They grudge
me life, although, forsooth, it is no light, enjoyable thing to me, but
has brought me trouble, deprivation, and want enough. But still, they
grudge it to me, and if they could shorten it, would all do so."

"But I, my beloved master and Elector--I stand by you. I have placed it
before myself as my sacred aim in life to guard you as a faithful dog
guards his master, and to turn aside from you all that threatens you with
danger and vexation. The Emperor, too, as your supreme protector, keeps
his benignant eye fixed upon you, his much-loved vassal, and his wrath
would crush all that should endeavor to injure you. There are, indeed,
many here who think that the Elector of Brandenburg ought to make himself
free and independent of that very Emperor, beneficent though he be, and,
because your highness stands in their way, they attach themselves to the
son, and, placing him at their head, wish to constitute him an opponent of
the Emperor and empire. The Electress has probably not yet forgiven and
forgotten that the Emperor put her brother under the ban of the empire,
and banished him from country and friends. And the Prince of Orange, and
the Sovereign States, the Swedes and all the enemies of his Imperial
Highness and your Electoral Grace, would all unite their efforts to render
the Electoral Prince a pliant tool in their hands. Therefore they wish to
detain him yet longer at The Hague, and so to bind him there that he shall
be wholly theirs, linked by an indissoluble chain. On that account they
wish to bring about this marriage with the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine.
I must confide to your highness the information that report has already
bruited it abroad, and that it is spoken of at the imperial court. I have
to-day received dispatches from Vienna which apprise me that the Emperor
is very much opposed to this matrimonial project, and will never give his
consent to it."

"And I, too, shall never give my consent!" screamed the Elector. "I will
not again be brought to feud and strife with Emperor and empire. I will
not range myself on the side of the Emperor's foes, and neither shall my
son. I have always said that the Electoral Prince was staying far too long
in foreign parts, and that he would return an alien. But you would never
agree to it, Adam Schwarzenberg; you always thought that the Electoral
Prince was much better off in his place than here, where the malcontents
and disturbers of the peace would, throng about him, and that he could
only learn what, was good and profitable there, while here he would learn
much that was evil. And now it proves that the air there is much worse for
him still, and that the tempters have more power over him there than here."

"I was blind and short-sighted when I fancied myself wise," replied
Schwarzenberg, in a tone of contrition; "I was presumptuous enough to
suppose I knew better than my Elector and lord, and now acknowledge in
deep abasement how very wrong I was, and how far superior to myself my
noble and beloved Electoral Lord is in penetration and foresight. I crave
your pardon, most gracious sir, crave it in penitence and humiliation."

The proud Count von Schwarzenberg bowed his knee before the Elector, and
with a glance of earnest entreaty pressed his lips to his Sovereign's
hand. George William, flattered and enraptured by this humility on the
part of his almighty favorite, bent forward and imprinted a kiss upon his
lofty forehead.

"Rise, my Adam, rise," he said tenderly. "It does not become the grand
master of the German orders, the rich and distinguished count of the
empire, to kneel before the little Elector, who is not master of an army,
but so poor that he knows not how he shall live and pay his servants; who
has nothing of his possessions but the name, and nothing of his position
but the burden! Stand up, Adam Schwarzenberg, for I love to see you erect
and stately at my side, and to be able to look up to you as to a staff on
which I may lean, and which is strong enough to bear me."

Count Schwarzenberg arose from his knees, and, resting his elbows upon the
high back of the armchair, inclined his head toward the Elector, who
looked up at him with glances of fond affection.

"My lord's coffers, then, are actually empty?" he asked.

"So empty, Adam Schwarzenberg, that my servants can not obtain their
wages, and if a beggar were to accost me on my way to church, I could give
him nothing, because not a florin is to be found in my own purse--so
empty, that our whole project of the Electoral Prince's return threatens
to be wrecked thereby, for our son has incurred debts which we are not
able to liquidate. Schlieben informs us that the debts of the Electoral
Prince amount probably to seven thousand dollars, and, besides that, he
needs at least two thousand dollars more to defray the expenses of his
journey home, together with his retinue, his carriage, and his horses."

"That is indeed a bad business," said the count thoughtfully, "for it is
almost impossible to raise money in these hard times. Nevertheless a
remedy shall and must be found, provided that my most gracious Sovereign
will condescend to accept aid from his most humble servant and retainer."

"What say you, Adam? You will help me again?" asked the Elector. "Twice
you have rescued me already from want, and supported my poverty with your
wealth. I am your debtor, your insolvent debtor, who pays no interest, to
say nothing of the capital."

"But like a magnanimous, high-spirited gentleman, always give the greater
for the less," cried Schwarzenberg, smiling. "It is true I had the good
fortune to be able to lend your highness a hundred thousand dollars on two
occasions, but your highness gave me in pledge two fair domains in Cleves,
which surely would be worth more than the sum lent if they should be sold."

"But nobody would buy them now because war and pestilence rage there, and
no one knows who is master there. I give them to you, however, these
domains of Huissen and Neustadt: from this very hour they are yours, and I
shall forthwith make out for you a deed of donation."

"Oh, my most revered sir, how kind and generous you are!" said
Schwarzenberg, "and how you shame me with your magnanimity and goodness!
With grateful and submissive heart I accept your gift, and shall this very
day tear to pieces both the bonds, and lay them at your Electoral
Highness's feet."

"By no means, Adam," said the Elector, almost indignantly, "for then I
should not have presented you with Huissen and Neustadt, but you would
have paid for them!"

"Then, at least, let me add now another sum, most honored sir, and
condescend to accept from me fifty thousand dollars without writing an
acknowledgement of debt."

"Will you lend me fifty thousand dollars?" asked the Elector, joyfully
surprised.

"I received important remittances of money from my mastership Sonnenburg,
and have also saved something from my estates," said the count. "It is
true for the time being I have nothing left for myself, but it is better
that the servant should suffer privation than his lord. I shall have the
honor of transmitting to your highness this very day the fifty thousand
dollars in specie and reliable bills of exchange."

"And I shall immediately write you a receipt for them with my own hand,"
cried the Elector, hastening with youthful speed to his writing table, and
grasping paper and pen. With alacrity he dashed off a few words on the
paper, moistened a great wafer, laid paper over it, and, pasting it
beneath the writing, pressed his great signet upon it.

"There is the deed," he said; "take it, Schwarzenberg, and send me the
money."

But the count refused the proffered paper, smilingly waving it off with
his hand, while reverentially taking one step backward.

"First the money and then the deed," he said; "all must be in order,
gracious sir, and you shall not acknowledge yourself a debtor ere you have
received your money."

"Oh! how well I feel all at once!" cried the Elector, "and what a free,
glad consciousness I have again in no longer feeling myself a poor debtor,
but once more knowing that I have money in my pockets. Now we will give
orders for our servants to be paid off; then we will pay the Electoral
Prince's debts, and send him money for his traveling expenses, that he may
come home and have no pretext for refusal and delay."

"Your highness ought to send another chamberlain to persuade the Electoral
Prince in a friendly manner to return," said the count. "There is, for
example, Herr von Marwitz, a peculiarly polished and clever gentleman, and
in good standing with the Electress and all favorers of the Swedes, but
withal a faithful servant of his honored lord."

"Yes, Marwitz shall set off for The Hague, and to-day, too," replied the
Elector, with animation. "Marwitz shall bring back my son to me, and I
shall exhort and command him under penalty of my wrath to take no excuses
whatever, and to enter into no further explanations. He shall pay his
debts, take my son money for his journey, and say to the Electoral Prince
that my accumulated wrath as father and Elector will fall upon and crush
him if he does not now obey me. I will have an obedient and submissive
son, with whom my will is law, else it were better that I had no son! This
very day Marwitz shall set out."

"I beg the favor of your Electoral Highness to defer the departure of the
Chamberlain von Marwitz until to-morrow," pleaded the count. "Your grace
will without doubt desire to write a few words to your son; the Electress,
too, will doubtless avail herself of the opportunity to communicate with
her son and dear relatives; and I also have a few dispatches to prepare
for our envoys there. Most humbly, therefore, I beseech you that Marwitz
may not commence his journey to The Hague until to-morrow or the day
after."

"To-morrow then be it, Adam, to-morrow he must start."

"Then your highness and the Electress must prepare your letters to-day,
and--candidly speaking, I had a great request to make of your Electoral
Grace. I have arranged a little hunting party for to-day, and would esteem
it an especial favor if your highness would do me the honor to take part
in it."

"I shall do so gladly, most gladly!" cried George William, delighted. "I
could desire no more pleasant diversion for the present day than a little
hunting party, and you know that well, Adam, and understand splendidly how
to guess at my wishes. Yes, we shall hunt--but I have no dogs. Mine were
all left behind in Prussian, and the head huntsman informs me that the
pack of dogs in this place is in very bad condition. I want a hunter and a
strong fellow, such a capital boarhound as I have long wished for but have
never been able to find."

"I hope that I have found such an one for your highness," said the count,
smiling. "I have had inquiries instituted everywhere, and learned that
there was a capital animal at Stargard, in Pomerania. I immediately
dispatched a special messenger to Herr von Schwiebus, to whom the animal
belongs, and in your highness's name asked the purchase price of the
boarhound, and requested that they would send the creature along for your
inspection."

"And he is here, the boarhound?" asked the Elector, with sparkling eyes.
"Adam, you do indeed understand how to rejoice my heart and guess my
wishes. Where is the boarhound? Let me see him."

"Most gracious sir, Herr von Schwiebus seems perfectly wrapped up in this
animal, and at first would not hear at all of parting with him; indeed, he
was quite angry with Count Henkel for having told me of his precious
possession. Only when he heard that it was your Electoral Grace who wished
to make the purchase, he softened down a little, and sent a picture which
he has had taken of his favorite, in order that your highness might form
an idea of the animal and decide whether it would really please you."

"Have you the picture with you, Adam?" asked the Elector eagerly.

The count hurried to the door and took from the little table standing
there a roll of paper, which he had laid there on his entrance. He
unfolded it, spread it out on a table, and on each corner of the paper
placed a weight.

"I entreat your highness just to observe the portrait of the beautiful
animal," he begged.

The Elector hastily approached, and an expression of joyful surprise
escaped from his lips at the sight of this picture, which, executed with
tolerable artistic skill in water colors, represented a large and finely
shaped hound, with massive head, clipped ears, and long tail.

"Adam, that is a wonderful animal!" cried the Elector, after a pause of
mute rapture. "That boarhound I must have, let it cost what it will. Tell
me the price, Adam, the price for this divine creature."

"Most gracious Elector, Herr von Schwiebus seems to be a queer fellow. He
said the dog would not seem dear to him in exchange for all the money in
the world. If, however, your highness insisted upon buying him, he would
give him up on condition that in payment for the dog he might cut down in
the electoral forests three thousand trees of his own selection."[16]

"He shall have his price, yes, he shall have it!" cried the Elector, his
eyes fixed immovably upon the portrait. "Send forthwith a courier from me
to Herr von Schwiebus, and have him notified that I buy the boarhound for
three thousand trees, which he may select and fell from my Letzling
forest. He shall, conformably with his terms, immediately send me the
boarhound. Make haste, Adam, and attend to this matter for me; I long so
to have the beautiful creature here. And as regards the Electoral Prince,
we will put off Marwitz's departure until the day after to-morrow, for we
shall not have time for letter writing to-day on account of the hunting
party, and that will occasion the delay of one more day."




VI.--REVELATIONS.


"Not until the day after to-morrow will Marwitz set out on his journey,"
said Count Schwarzenberg contentedly to himself, when he had left the
Elector, and was once more alone in his own cabinet. "Not until the day
after to-morrow! So Gabriel Nietzel will have three days the start of him,
and, moreover, he can travel more rapidly. The only thing to be considered
now is, what shall be the nature of his errand there? We shall at once
deliberate as to what will be best!"

Long did he pace the floor of his cabinet with bowed head and arms crossed
upon his chest; then all of a sudden he whistled for his valet, and
ordered him to look for Master Gabriel Nietzel, and to bring him in at
once.

"Your grace," replied the valet, "Master Nietzel has just come into the
antechamber, and requests an audience of you."

"Admit him. But first I have a few tasks to give you. Listen!" he beckoned
the valet to come nearer, and softly and hurriedly communicated his
instructions. "And now," he concluded, "now let the master enter, and then
make haste to do what I have told you."

"Well," cried the count, when a few minutes later Gabriel Nietzel entered
the cabinet--"well, now tell me, master, what brings you here so early. My
appointment with you was not until this evening."

"Forgive me, your excellency, but in the joy of my heart I thought you
might perhaps bestow a moment upon me. I only wished to let your
excellency know that it has turned out exactly as I hoped. I communicated
to the Electress my purpose of making an artist's tour into Holland. Her
highness seemed highly delighted at the idea, and gave me an open note to
the Electoral Prince, introducing me to her son as a skillful portrait
painter."

"Just show me this note."

The painter handed him a small, neatly folded paper, which the count tore
open and perused with a rapid glance.

"Nothing more, in fact, than a very warm recommendation," he said. "And
this is all?"

"No, your excellency, the best part is yet to come. The Electress has
appointed me her court painter. I receive the same salary as the recently
deceased court painter, Mathias Ezizeken, namely, a yearly income of fifty
dollars, board and rent free, with two suits of new clothes annually." [17]

"Now, indeed, you may well be content," laughed the count; "that is truly
a magnificent appointment, and henceforth you become a prominent man at
court here! But tell me, master, do you still accept in addition the
little stipend I have allotted you?"

"Your excellency, I esteem myself happy indeed that your grace has granted
it to me."

"And my treasurer has paid out to you the three thousand ducats?"

"Yes, your excellency, he has paid them out to me, and I am now released
from all cares."

"You have only one care left, master," said Count Schwarzenberg--"this one
care, that I may some day denounce you as a shameful deceiver, who has
sold me a bad copy of his own manufacture for an original, and be assured
that this deception may bring you to the gallows at any time if I choose
it."

"But, most gracious sir," stammered the painter, pale as death, "I thought
you had forgiven me, and--"

"Forgiven, so long as you are a faithful and obedient servant," replied
the count, in a severe tone--"forgiven, so long as I can count upon your
submission; but forget, that I shall never do. And at the slightest
mistake, the least resistance to my commands, I shall remember what a
cheat and good-for-nothing you are, and take back my forgiveness. You have
the three thousand ducats, but you have not yet given a receipt for them.
Sit you down there at my table and write the receipt. I will dictate it to
you myself."

Like an obedient slave Gabriel Nietzel slunk to the table, sank down
before it, took the pen which the count handed him, and placed it on the
paper put before him.

"Write," ordered the count, and with loud voice he dictated: "I, Gabriel
Nietzel, painter by profession, hereby affirm that I have this day
received from his excellency the Stadtholder in the Mark, Count
Schwarzenberg, the sum of three thousand ducats in ready money. This money
is the price paid for a painting by Titiano Vecellio, representing the
goddess of beauty with a Cupid, who presents Venus her looking-glass. I
bought this picture at Cremona for two thousand ducats, and I vow and
swear upon my conscience and by all that I hold sacred that this painting,
which I have sold to the count for an original painting, is actually an
original painting by Titiano Vecellio's own hand."

"Now, master, why do you hesitate? Why do you not write?"

"Oh, sir, have some pity upon me!" groaned the painter. "I can not write
that. I can not swear that it is an original by all I hold sacred."

"Why, what does it signify?" laughed the count; "paper is lenient. The
advantage to me is only that I can by means of this receipt prove to
connoisseurs and picture lovers that I have bought an original painting
from you. For the rest, if you will not write, why then, very good. I
shall have you arrested on the spot, inform the Electress of what a
deceiver you are, have the three thousand ducats forthwith taken away
again, and keep you in prison until the suit is made out against you; then
you shall be hung conformably with law and usage."

"Mercy, your excellency, mercy!" gasped Nietzel. "I am writing even now!"

And with trembling hands he completed the receipt, and, on the count's
further command, subscribed his name.

Schwarzenberg read it over attentively. "This is a document, my dear
painter," he said, smiling, "that may some day bring you to the gallows,
for, only see, I have other confirmatory evidence."

From a casket on his table he drew forth a roll of parchment, to which
were attached two great seals, hanging by silken strings, and while he
unrolled it he beckoned the painter to come near. "See," he said, "this is
a testimonial which I have had made out for me at Venice by the Duke di
Grimani, affirming that Titian's Venus is his property, and that you spent
three months in his palace painting a copy of the original. You see well,
dear court-painter Nietzel, that you are completely in my hands, and that
I can have you strung up at any time, for the Stadtholder makes short work
of cheats and perjurers, and sends them off to the gallows, where they
belong! Now say, master, will you to the gallows or will you live in honor
and joy as the Electress's court painter and my secret pensioner, my open
foe? I give you free choice. Make your own unbiased decision."

"I have no longer any choice," groaned Gabriel Nietzel. "Your excellency
well knows that I have no choice. I love life; I have not courage to die,
therefore I am your slave."

"Not at all; you are court painter to her highness the Electress, and
shall retain your office if you behave yourself wisely and discreetly.
This very day you set out on your journey to Holland."

A flash of joy gleamed in the painter's eyes, and his brow cleared. The
count remarked it and laughed aloud.

"Oh, my dear! I guess your thoughts," he cried. "You think that when you
are in Holland I can no longer reach you, and you will take good care not
to put yourself in my power again. But know that my arm is far-reaching,
and that I have spies and agents everywhere, who are very devoted to me
because I pay them well. They will find you out wherever you are, and no
jurisdiction would refuse delivering up to me a criminal if I demanded
him. But besides that, Master Gabriel Nietzel, I hold here a sure pledge
for your valuable person."

"What sort of pledge does your excellency mean?" inquired Nietzel
anxiously.

"Why, I mean the fair Rebecca, whom you brought with you from the Ghetto
of Venice, and whom it pleases you here to give out to be your wife,
married at Venice. I hope, however, that you have not committed so heinous
a sin as to take a Jewess to wife, for then you should not escape with the
gallows, but should be burned at the stake with your cursed Jewess, your
bold paramour."

Master Nietzel answered not a word. With a loud groan he sank upon a
chair, and covered his face with both his hands, weeping aloud.

"Your fair Rebecca stays behind here with your boy," continued Count
Schwarzenberg; "and that she may be in perfect safety and never lack for
my protection, I shall have her brought to Spandow, my usual place of
residence. There she shall live, well watched and cared for, and there
remain until your return. If, however, you have then proved yourself to be
a good and obedient servant, I will myself restore to you your Rebecca,
and nobody shall dare to molest you."

"Tell me what I have to do, your excellency," said the painter, with cold,
desperate decision. "I am ready and willing for everything, for I love my
Rebecca and my son, and I will deserve them."

"And it will not be made hard for you, master. You go, then, to Holland,
introduce yourself to the Electoral Prince through the Electress's letter
of recommendation, and try to make yourself as agreeable and charming to
him as possible. When you have succeeded in that, lament to him that life
in Holland does not suit you at all, that you are homesick, and entreat
most earnestly that the Electoral Prince include you in his traveling
suite. This he will naturally do, and you will accompany him on his
journey home. Have you understood me, and paid good heed to all my words,
Master Nietzel?"

"Yes, your excellency, I have noted each word."

"And you have found without doubt that it is by no means a difficult thing
that I require of you. But the journey back, Master Nietzel, the journey
back is a very dangerous and bad affair. You know, so many freebooters
rove about everywhere, and Westphalia especially is swarming with Swedes
and Hessians. If such a troop of soldiers knew beforehand that the
Electoral Prince was coming that way, they would certainly lie in wait for
him and fall upon him, either for purposes of plunder or in order to carry
him off and extort a high ransom for him. The Electoral Prince will not
passively submit to capture, but will resist; a battle will ensue, and
then it might easily happen that in the heat of conflict a dagger should
pierce the Prince or a ball go through his head. Those Swedes and Hessians
are wild, fierce soldiers, and the Prince is in perpetual danger,
especially in Westphalia. You must represent this to the Electoral Prince,
and, to prove to him your zeal and love, you will entreat permission
always to go a few hours in advance of him to make sure that the way is
free and the Electoral Prince is threatened by no danger. He will
therefore each morning acquaint you with the course of his route, and
where to arrange night quarters for him, and the point where you shall
rejoin him again. You are to precede the Electoral Prince as courier, and
if, some day, he should be attacked at a wild spot on the road by a troop
of Swedish or Hessian soldiery, robbed, taken prisoner, or even killed,
that is no fault of yours, and no one could blame you on that account, for
you have proved and evidenced your zeal in the most striking manner. You
have comprehended me, Master Nietzel? Have you paid good heed to my words?"

"Yes, your excellency, I have paid good heed, and understood everything
well," returned Master Gabriel, on whose brow the sweat stood in great
drops.

"Well, I have only this to add: Should the unfortunate accident really
happen that the Electoral Prince is attacked by robbers and killed in
Westphalia or somewhere else, then look to it, that you be found that day
among his defenders, and bear off as token some wound received--for
instance, a sabre thrust on the right arm. With this true sign of your
valor and your faithfulness come here to Berlin, and be assured that no
one shall dare to suspect you when he witnesses your grief and especially
your sabre thrust. It need be no deep wound, and surely the fair Rebecca
has a healing balm which she can apply to you. Besides, the Electress will
protect you, and be certain that I will stand by you with all my might and
influence. And now, master, we have concluded all our business, and you
will set out in an hour. I permit you, however, first to take leave of
your fair Rebecca and the pretty child. Only, you must not be alone again
with the beautiful woman, and therefore I have given orders that your wife
and son be brought here. You will be pleased to stay so long at my
chamberlain's house; luncheon shall be served there for yourself and your
family, and you can take it in the presence of my chamberlain. I have
already imparted to you the needed commands, and taken care to have your
wife and child fetched directly here. A vehicle is also prepared, ready to
convey your wife to Spandow; I have a good, trustworthy housekeeper in my
house there, and with her the two can dwell, and shall want for nothing,
except it be yourself."

"Most gracious sir," said Gabriel Nietzel, with an expression of deep
anguish, "I love my wife and child above everything, and am prepared to
suffer and endure everything for them. But if I returned home and found my
wife sick, or dead, or, what were yet worse, found her--

"Well, why do you hesitate, master? Faithless, found her faithless, would
you say--well, what then?"

"Well, then life would have no value at all to me," said Gabriel Nietzel
firmly and decidedly. "Then would it be quite indifferent to me whether I
were hanged or burned; then would I desire nothing but to die, and--before
my death to avenge myself."

"Ah! I understand you quite well, master, and know you well. You please me
uncommonly with your energetic defiance and your hidden threat. In return
I, too, will give you an open, candid answer. Master Gabriel Nietzel, I am
no enamored fool, who runs after every apronstring, or generally takes any
special pleasure in women. I have neither time nor inclination for that,
and leave such things to the young, the idle, and men who have no ambition
and no head, but only a heart. I, Master Gabriel, have no heart at all, or
at least none now any longer, and I herewith give you my word of honor as
a nobleman and gentleman that your lovely Rebecca has nothing to dread
from me. On the contrary, I shall have her watched and guarded, as if she
were a ward intrusted to me, for whose honor I held myself responsible."

"I thank your excellency--I thank you with my whole heart," said Gabriel
Nietzel, breathing more freely; "and now you shall find me ready and
willing to execute your commands faithfully and punctiliously."

"It rejoices me, master, it rejoices me to see what a tender husband, or
rather lover, you are. I repeat to you, you need feel no anxiety about
your Rebecca. She will find herself quite secure in my society, while I
fear that the Electoral Prince will have but little safety in your
society, but be very often in danger."

"I fear so, too, your excellency," said Gabriel Nietzel, with a feeble
effort to smile.

"But a good old proverb has it, 'All they that take the sword shall perish
by the sword,'" continued the count. "It is not your fault, master, if the
Electoral Prince does not know this proverb. Now farewell, master, and be
of good courage, for another good proverb says, 'Fortune smiles on the
brave.' Go now, master, my chamberlain awaits you in the antechamber."

"I am going, your excellency," said Gabriel Nietzel humbly. "May almighty
God be with us all, and guard my wife and child!"

He bowed low and reverentially, then strode hastily toward the door.

"Gabriel Nietzel, one word more!" called out the count, as the painter
stood with his hand already upon the door knob. He turned and slowly came
back. "Master Gabriel Nietzel," continued the count, with a mocking laugh,
"be so good as to give me the Electress's letter."

The painter drew forth his leather pocketbook, took out the open letter of
recommendation, and handed it to the count.

But the latter smilingly rejected it. "You may keep that, master; I have
already read that. The other, the second missive from the Electress, you
must give me."

Gabriel Nietzel shrank back, and gazed into the count's large, glittering
eyes.

"The other writing," he murmured, "the second writing?"

"Why, yes, master, that secret writing, which you have naturally promised
to shield with the last drop of your blood, and to hand inviolate into the
hands of the Electoral Prince. My God! we know how often such oaths are
made, and that hardly one has ever been kept. You have not been made court
painter for nothing, with your salary of fifty dollars, free rent, and two
suits of clothes. You must give something in return. Give me that second
writing of the Electress, the one which you have sworn to hand only to the
Electoral Prince; or rather, no, you shall not forswear yourself. Just
tell me where you have stuck it, and I shall take it for myself."

"Your excellency, it sticks in my left breast pocket," whispered Gabriel
Nietzel. The count laughed aloud, and with one movement drew forth from
Master Gabriel's left breast pocket a small packet, wound round with
silken strings. With cautious hand, extremely solicitous not to break the
string, he untied it, and took out the paper found beneath. Within this,
indeed, lay a small, well-sealed letter.

"'To my dear son, the Electoral Prince Frederick William,'" read the
count, with loud voice. "You see, I was not mistaken. It is the
Electress's handwriting, and it is directed to the Electoral Prince."

"And I have solemnly sworn to give it into no other hands than his,"
murmured the painter.

"You shall keep your oath, Master Gabriel. Now go into the antechamber. My
chamberlain awaits you there, and perhaps your fair Rebecca is also there
already!"

"But my letter, your excellency--shall I not have my letter again?"

"Certainly, master, you shall have it again. In a half hour I shall come
out myself and give it to you. Oh, fear nothing. The Prince will not
suspect that any strange hand has touched it. Indeed, it concerns me very
nearly that the Electoral Prince should put confidence in you, and be
convinced of your honesty and good faith. Go now, master, I shall bring
the secret epistle back to you unscathed, and put it again into your left
breast pocket."

When Master Gabriel Nietzel had crept out slowly and sorrowfully, the
count hastened to his writing table, took up flint, tinder, and steel, and
made the sparks fly until one fired the tinder and made it glow. Now he
held a splinter of wood to the glowing tinder, and by its flame lighted
the wax taper in the golden candlestick. Then he quickly fetched, from a
secret drawer of his writing table, a small knife with a fine thin blade,
heated this at the light, and carefully and adroitly slipped it under the
great electoral seal, which he carefully detached from the letter. He laid
it carefully upon a small marble slab, and opened the letter. It was a
very long, confidential communication from the Electress to her beloved
son. With closest attention the count read it twice, and then with great
pains folded it up again.

"It is just as I thought," he said softly to himself: "the Electress
wishes the longer absence of her son. She intimates to him that she will
not be displeased if he marries there, and even promises that she will
soften his father's wrath. She counsels him not to come here, and warns
him against the evil spirit who has ensnared his father's heart, and
surely aims at the life of her dear and noble son. Well, it must be
confessed, the Electress is on the right trail. Her mother's instinct
gives her insight into the future, and makes her a prophetess. I know it
very well, Electress: we two have never loved one another, and have
carried on a bitter warfare against each other for twenty years, in
which, however, God be thanked, Schwarzenberg has always come off
victorious. I hope, too, it will continue to be so, and this letter will
furnish me with a good weapon. I shall take a copy of it. Who knows what
use I may make of it one of these days, and out of this paper fashion a
dagger which may turn against the writer and against the receiver, if it
reaches the hands of the Electoral Prince. Yes, I shall take a copy, and
then restore the original to its envelope and affix the seal. And Master
Gabriel shall take it to you, my dear Prince. Oh, take heed, and be upon
your guard, Frederick William, for your respected mother is right. I am
your evil spirit, and I can only stand if you fall; therefore, fall you
must! Oh, I have learned much to-day, and received many a good lesson. 'It
is better,' so said the Elector to me--'it is better that I have no son
than a disobedient son, who resists my will.' But he shall resist you,
Elector George William--he will be disobedient to you, and I shall do my
part toward making him so. Then how said Count Lesle: 'If the son becomes
the father's enemy, then it must be contrived to render the father the
son's enemy; thus will the equilibrium be preserved.' Oh, my dear Count
Lesle, I know very well the history of Philip of Spain and his disobedient
and rebellious son Don Carlos. Take care, take care, Electoral Prince
Frederick William, that you share not the fate of Don Carlos, and that
your father punish you not as King Philip did his son!"




BOOK II.

I.--THE DOUBLE RENDEZVOUS.


The Princess Ludovicka Hollandine walked restlessly to and fro in her
apartment. Sometimes she stopped at the window and listened intently;
then, finding all without still dark and silent, she stepped back and
continued her restless walk, at times listening again at door or window.
While passing the great Venetian mirror on the wall, on both sides of
which were placed two silver candlesticks with immense burning wax tapers,
she caught sight of her image as brightly and distinctly as if it had been
a portrait, and she drew nearer, like a connoisseur bent on examining a
picture. She saw before her within the carved gilt framework a beautiful
maiden's form, in sky-blue satin robe that fell in wide, heavy folds
around her full and blooming figure. The low-necked bodice left wholly
uncovered her dazzling white shoulders, and beneath the transparent gauze
of her sleeves shone the fair white arms as from out a silver cloud. Her
head rested proudly and gracefully upon the slender alabaster neck, and
was crowned by a profusion of black hair, caught up behind in great loops,
and fastened with bows of blue satin ribbon. On the broad and lofty brow
it was massed in the form of a diadem, with numberless pretty little
ringlets. Her cheeks were pale, but of that clear, transparent paleness
which has nothing in common with sickness and suffering, but is only
peculiar to vehement, passionate natures, with whom the cheeks are
colorless, because all the blood concentrates in the heart. Her large dark
eyes had at the same time a languid, melting expression and the fire and
glow of passion; the finely cut, slightly curved nose, the firm, somewhat
projecting chin, indicated energy and decision; and around the full, rosy
lips hovered a singular expression of good nature and frivolity.

She contemplated herself for a long time, then a well-pleased smile passed
over her fascinating countenance. "I am beautiful," she said, "yes, I am
beautiful, and I believe those are right who suppose that I resemble my
great-grand-mother, the beautiful Mary Stuart. O Mary! you beautiful,
bewitching Queen--oh teach me the arts which won for you the hearts of all
men; inspire me with the glow of passion, let it flash forth from me in
bright flames, and grant that these flames may kindle and fire the one I
love, whom I will possess, and on whom all my hopes and desires are fixed!
But hush! did I not hear steps?"

She again hurried to the window and listened, holding her breath. A
shrill, thrice-repeated whistle was heard, sounding strangely awful in the
stillness of the night.

"It is he," murmured the Princess, "it is the concerted signal."

She took from a table standing near a package consisting of cords and
knots, and unrolled it. It was a rope ladder, twisted artfully and durably
of fine cords, and held together at the top by a strong iron ring. This
ring the Princess now slipped over the iron hook which was fixed in the
middle of the cross work of the window, and lowered the rope ladder, while
at the same time, as if in answer, she repeated the whistle in the same
manner. Then she bounded back from the window, flew through the room to
both doors, assured herself that the bolts were secured, and with hasty
hands dropped the curtains over them.

"No one can hear us, no one can see us, no one can get in here," she
murmured; "he may come."

A slight rustling was heard below the window, then a dark mass appeared in
the open space, and a closely muffled manly form jumped from the
windowsill down into the apartment. Wholly enveloped in the folds of an
ample black cloak, whose hood was thrown over the head and drawn far over
the face, it was impossible to recognize the visitor's features.


The person thus disguised curiously and inquisitively turned his head to
both sides of the room, strode rapidly across it, lifted the curtains from
both doors, examined the fastenings of the bolts, went to the divan,
peered under it, and, after completing this silent inspection of the
chamber, returned to the window, loosened the cord from the hook, drew in
the rope-ladder, and closed the window.

Princess Ludovicka Hollandine, standing in the middle of the apartment,
had watched this singular demeanour on the part of the mysterious intruder
with growing astonishment. She had first held out her arms to greet the
expected, the longed-for, to press him to her beating heart, but, finding
that he came not to embrace her, she had slowly dropped her arms again.
She had looked toward him with a tender glance, a fascinating smile, but
when he hastened not to her, her glance had grown dark and her smile had
vanished; and now, when he did approach her, she assumed an air of
distant, proud reserve. He seemed not to see it, and, bending his knee
before her, his head being still concealed, he pressed the hem of her
garment reverentially to his lips.

"Most beautiful, most condescending of all princesses," he whispered
softly, "I sue for pardon, for forgiveness."

The Princess shrank back, and a glowing flush overspread her cheeks. "My
God!" she murmured, "that is not the voice--"

"Not the voice of the one whom your highness desires to see," said the
kneeling figure, concluding her sentence for her. "Yes, most amiable
Princess, your tender, sensitive heart is not deceived. I am not the
Electoral Prince of Brandenburg. I am--"

"Count d'Entragues, the French ambassador," cried the Princess, as the
disguised man now threw back the hood of his mantle, and lifted up to her
his youthfully handsome, smiling face.

"Scream not, most gracious lady," said he, hastily, "and do not scold me,
either; but be merciful and forgive me. I lie here at your feet and
entreat for pardon, and will not rise until you have granted it."

The Princess still kept her astonished and inquiring glance fixed upon
him, but the sight of this handsome young man, disarmed her wrath.

"Stand up, Count d'Entragues," she said--"stand up and account to me for
this daring crime."

"Your highness is right," returned he, "it is a daring crime, and only the
extremest necessity could have driven me to this. I shall immediately
therefore have the honor of explaining all this to the lovely, bewitching
Princess Ludovicka Hollandine."

With youthful agility he arose from his knees, took off his cloak, which
he carelessly threw into a corner of the apartment, and presented himself
to the Princess in a gold-embroidered velvet suit, richly trimmed with
lace and ribbons. Ludovicka fixed her large eyes upon the proud and
dazzling apparition of the young count, and the angry flashing of her eyes
softened.

"Sir Count," she said, imperiously, "without evasion and without
circumlocution explain to me directly the meaning of this!"

"You permit me to do so, then, fairest Princess? You thereby empower me to
remain a half hour in your charming presence?"

And while the count thus questioned, he took the hand of the Princess and
covered it with kisses. Then, with graceful gallantry and solemn
seriousness, as if they had been in the midst of a grand courtly
assemblage, he conducted her to the divan. There she seated herself, and
he bowed before her with all the formality and obsequiousness of a
courtier as he took his place beside her.

"Now your highness desires to know above all things how I can have dared
to intrude here at so unusual an hour, and without the shadow of
permission," he said with his mellifluous, insinuating voice. "Most
gracious Princess, I confess that you are well justified in this
curiosity, and I hasten to gratify it. Your grace expected a visitor
indeed, but not the tiresome, unbidden Count d'Entragues--not the
ambassador and servant of King Louis XIII or Cardinal Richelieu, but you
expected an eloquent, handsome young Prince, who loves the Princess
Ludovicka Hollandine with passionate enthusiasm, and to whom after long
and vain entreaties she has at last granted a rendezvous."

"My God!" said the Princess, with an expression of horror, "how know you
that, count?"

"My most gracious Princess, I have a magician in my service, who acquaints
me with everything that happens here at court and, above all things, in
the palace of the Queen of Bohemia, and first of all in the apartments of
the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine."

"And the name of this magician is?"

"Ducato, sweetest Princess, Ducato. Ah! if you knew what dear, precious
secrets this magician has imparted to me, how loquaciously he blabs out to
me everything that the fairest Princess in the world thinks and does by
day and by night! I know, for example, how the lovely Princess stays with
her mother with ever so much seriousness, goes with her to church, visits
respectfully the Stadtholder of Holland, and fondles and pets the little
Princess Louise; how she carries on her studies, plays the lute, paints
and sings. But, God be thanked! life consists not entirely of days, but
happily has its nights likewise."

"What do you mean by that, Sir Count d'Entragues?"

"I mean," replied the Count, while he smilingly bent over closer to the
Princess--"I mean that here at The Hague there is a wonderful, charming
combination of young gentlemen and noble young ladies, who have laid
themselves out expressly to embellish these nights, and to indemnify
themselves for their somber, gloomy days by joyous, merry nights. It is a
secret order, into which it is a distinguished honor to be received, and
which is shrouded in deepest secrecy. Never would a lady own that she
belongs to it, and yet they say that the fairest, most exalted, most
virtuous ladies press to be received into this order. It is not known of
any of the ladies of the court that they belong to it, but it is suspected
of each. No one can say that he has seen this or that one among the noble
and virtuous ladies there, for at all the reunions of the members of the
order the ladies wear small half-masks, and it is the first and most
sacred law of the order that no man dares to lay so much as a finger upon
this mask--this precious secret of the ladies. Moreover, they appear only
in Grecian robes, so that it is difficult to recognize the beautiful forms
of the ladies again in their elaborate court dresses and with their stiff
Fontanges. The name of this secret society is Media Nocte, and it is
especially an honor to belong to it, for nobody is admitted who has not
stood his probation--that is to say, shown that he has acquired
considerable proficiency in some art, and excels in it. He, therefore, who
can not sing or play on the lute, paint or improvise, speak eloquently, or
by some gift contribute to the enjoyment of the company, can never arrive
at the distinction of becoming a member of this order. When, therefore, it
is whispered of a gentleman that he belongs to the order, he is supposed
to be not merely an accomplished gentleman, but an entertaining companion,
a favorite of the Muses. If this secret is whispered of a lady, then we
look upon her with admiration, rapture, joy for we know that we have
before us one of those choice, enchanting, and rare beings, who are
exalted above all prejudice; who believe not, with zealots and ascetics,
that we live only to die, but who joyfully acknowledge that we live to
live, and, therefore, that the noblest, worthiest task proposed is to
render this life as pleasant as possible."

"Why do you tell me all this, dear count?" asked the Princess impatiently.

"It is true," replied he, smiling; "why should I tell you what you know
already? I tell it to your highness in order to prove to you that I,
thanks to my little magician Ducato, know the secret of the Media Nocte; I
tell it to you in order now to whisper a secret in your ear: the Princess
Ludovicka Hollandine belongs to the society, she is a member of the order
of the Media Nocte."

The Princess only with difficulty suppressed a shriek, and stared with
horror at the smiling countenance of the young count.

"Hush, gracious lady, hush!" whispered the latter while he took her hand
and imprinted a reverential kiss upon the tips of her rosy fingers. "Why
should you wish to deny what is so genial and so delightful? My magician
Ducato always tells me the truth; why should we dispute it? But it was not
that which your highness wished to learn of me. You would ask me, how I
know that the Electoral Prince of Brandenburg loves the beautiful Princess
Ludovicka Hollandine, and was to have his first rendezvous with her
to-day. Once more, it is the magician Ducato who has told me that; yes,
that good, obliging magician has done yet more for me. He put into my
hands the pretty little note which the Princess Ludovicka sent yesterday
through her confidential maid-servant to the confidential valet of the
Electoral Prince, before the Prince had read it himself."

"That is shameful--that is unheard of!" said the Princess, with glowing
cheeks and tears in her eyes. "It is an abominable piece of deceit on the
part of my maid, and she shall pay for it. To-morrow morning I shall
dismiss her, and--"

"That she may tell all the world the little secrets of her exalted
mistress?" asked Count d'Entragues. "Oh, no, your highness; the maid is
perfectly innocent of deceit, and it was only the magician Ducato who
played the Princess's pretty little note into my hands. And will my
sweetest lady know now what I did with the little note? I read it first,
then--saw there that a rendezvous was granted the Prince at one o'clock. I
took a very small sharp knife and--"

"And? My God, go on! What did you with the knife?"

"I very delicately erased and altered the number from a one into a two.
Then I refolded the note, and handed it to my magician for further
preferment to the Prince."

"The Electoral Prince has received my note, then?" asked the Princess. "He
will consequently--"

"Come at two o'clock, instead of one o'clock," replied the count, and he
intercepted the look which Ludovicka cast upon the large French clock upon
the mantelpiece. "Yes, we have just a half hour before the Prince makes
his appearance, and I hope that will suffice to obtain your highness's
pardon for my boldness, and to establish a good understanding between
myself and the most spirituelle, most genial, and most beautiful Princess
of all the European courts. Will your highness be kind enough to grant me
a hearing?"

The Princess smiled imperceptibly. "The question comes somewhat late," she
said. "If you had asked it while you stood there on the windowsill, before
you came into my room, then I should have replied: 'No, be off! No, you
are a shameless person, who has dared to spy out my secrets, to bribe my
servants, and to deceive me, while he approaches me in a way that he knew
perfectly was not open to him.' But you are here now; alas! I have not the
power to expel you, and to punish you before all the world as you deserve."

"O Princess! as if your harsh and cruel words were not a punishment, which
touches my heart more sensibly than the cut of a sword or thrust of a
dagger!"

The Princess seemed not to have heard these words of the count, spoken
with artistic effect, and continued: "You are here now, and I will at
least know what inspired you to run this unheard-of risk of forcing
yourself upon my notice. I am therefore ready to listen to you, on
condition that you try to be short and not burden me too long with your
presence."

"Permit me to thank you, most condescending Princess," cried the count,
while he sank from the ottoman down upon his knees, and pressed his
glowing lips upon the hem of the Princess's robe. "I thank you, and swear
that I will not overstep the limit prescribed, and depart at two with the
first stroke of the clock."

"Rise, count, rise and speak," said Ludovicka, in commanding tones, and
with the full dignity of a Princess.

Count d'Entragues again resumed his seat upon the divan. "Your highness
commands now that I explain how I could have dared to come here?"

"I confess that I am very anxious to hear this explanation."

"Well, then, your highness is young, very young indeed, hardly eighteen
years old, but you possess, in addition to a soft and tender heart, an
almost masculine intellect. I apprehend from this that you interest
yourself in politics."

"There you are entirely mistaken, count. I hate, I abhor politics, and
when my mother proposes to talk politics with me I always run away."

"That is bad, very bad, your highness; for I am forced to talk politics to
you. But I shall not be tedious, but limit myself to what is absolutely
necessary. I shall therefore begin, in order to give your highness a proof
of my reverential, unlimited confidence, by telling you what no one here
knows--by telling you why I have been sent here and what my errand is.
Princess, I have been ostensibly sent here to the Stadtholder of Orange
and as ambassador from the King of France to the Sovereign States. In
reality, I have been sent to two entirely different persons--to the
Electoral Prince of Brandenburg and to the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine."

"To me?" asked the Princess, and her beautiful face expressed the most
undisguised astonishment.

"Yes, to yourself, most gracious Princess. And does your highness know
why? Because our spies here, as well as the gentlemen of the French
embassy to Holland, had reported that the Electoral Prince of Brandenburg
was smitten with the most glowing love for your highness."

The Princess blushed with pleasure, and a wondrous smile lit up her
radiant countenance. "But," asked she, "how does it concern the court of
France whom the Electoral Prince of Brandenburg loves?"

"It concerns the court of France very nearly, your highness. I can not
avoid now burdening your highness a little with hated politics, while I
explain to you how it comes that the love of the Electoral Prince of
Brandenburg is a state affair for the European courts. It comes from this,
your highness, because the Electoral Prince, however small and
insignificant his house, however inconsiderable, too, his future realm of
Brandenburg, is still a very important personage. Three crowns are
hovering in the air above his head, and if he obtains all three he will be
a mighty Prince, and his sword may turn the scale in the balance of peace
and war."

"What three crowns are those which hover thus above the Prince's head?"

"There is first the crown of the dukedom of Prussia, with which the King
of Poland has to invest the Electoral Prince of Brandenburg, and which the
Elector of Saxony would be too glad to see fall upon his own head. Then,
in the second place, there is the crown of the duchy of Pomerania, which
belongs to the house of Brandenburg by right of inheritance, and which the
Swedes are struggling for; and finally, in the third place, there is the
crown of the duchy of Cleves, Juliers, and Berg, which the Emperor of
Germany has indeed adjudged to that house, but which is so torn by
Hessians and Spaniards, by the States, by the Swedes and various robbers,
that probably hardly anything at all of it will be left. But nevertheless,
there it is, and if the future Elector of Brandenburg actually succeeds in
uniting upon his own head these three crowns, besides the electoral hat of
Brandenburg, then he will be mighty and influential, and have a full
sounding voice in the concert of the European princes. But now you must
know that the Elector of Brandenburg is sickly, and has not many more
years to live. Then the Electoral Prince Frederick William becomes his
successor, and it is only needful to have seen the Prince for a few hours,
to have looked into his fiery eyes, to be made aware that he will not
tread in his father's footsteps, that he will not be the submissive vassal
of the German Emperor, a mere tool in the hands of his minister, but that
his efforts will be directed to making himself a free, independent Prince,
and his country a strong, powerful, and self-sustaining state. The
Minister von Schwarzenberg, the almighty representative of the present
Elector, knows this very well, and on this account dreads and hates the
Electoral Prince; he has therefore removed him from his father's court in
order to take away all influence from him, and he would esteem himself
happy if some lucky accident or criminal hand should free him from this
inconvenient successor to the throne. But heretofore accident has not
favored him; nor has he yet dared to press the murderous hand into his
service; and he has therefore been compelled to devise some other method
for securing his future, and so enchaining the Electoral Prince that he,
too, may remain the Emperor's obedient vassal. As the best means for
attaining this object it has occurred to them to bind the Electoral Prince
to the German imperial house by marriage, and to receive him into the
Hapsburg family. The Archduke Leopold, the future Emperor, has a very
pretty daughter. She is intellectual, ardent, a strict Catholic, and has
at heart the greatness of the Hapsburg house and the German Emperor. This
princess, or rather archduchess, has been selected for the Electoral
Prince of Brandenburg, and on that account the Electoral Prince is now to
return home, for the Elector and his Minister Schwarzenberg are much bent
upon the imperial alliance, and have already promised that the Electoral
Prince shall make a visit to the imperial court. But, excuse me, I am
misusing your indulgence, Princess. I am holding forth to you a
long-winded political harangue, forgetting entirely how you hate politics,
what a heinous crime I am committing, and that I weary you."

"You do not weary me at all," replied Ludovicka quickly. "On the contrary,
you interest me greatly. Only go on. I am listening attentively. You said
that the Electoral Prince was to return home in order to make a visit to
the imperial court, and to marry an archduchess of Austria?"

"Pardon me, your highness. I only said this was the new plan of the
imperial court, and consequently of the Minister Schwarzenberg and his
Elector. And, indeed, the plan is good, for the son-in-law of the Emperor
would be wholly dependent upon Austria, and if then the three pending
crowns should settle upon his brow, it would be the same as if Austria
herself wore them. Then they would cause the young married couple to make
an agreement respecting claims of inheritance, in accordance with which
the survivor should become heir to the first deceased. Then, some day, the
Electoral Prince, or the young Elector, would have the misfortune to fall
from his horse, or be pierced while hunting by some missent bullet, or
fall a victim to a sudden problematical sickness; in short, he would die,
and his wife would be his heiress, and through her the Electoral Mark
Brandenburg, the duchies of Prussia, Pomerania, and Cleves, accrue to the
imperial house. This would be then to put an end to the long, fearful war,
to make peace with Sweden by relinquishing Pomerania to her, and, in order
to see this war finally ended, which has desolated the whole of Germany,
the other German powers would acquiesce in Pomerania becoming Swedish, and
Cleves, Brandenburg, and Prussia Hapsburgian."

"Sir Count!" cried the Princess, "now you become tiresome, for you have
digressed from your subject!"

"From the Electoral Prince? Oh, no; I have already come to him again,
fairest Princess! I said all Germany would consent to this marriage.
Poland, too, would rather invest the Catholic imperial house with the
Prussian crown than the reformed Elector, and prefer an Austrian neighbor
as friend to a Russian; only two European powers would look askance upon
this union, and consequently do all they possibly could to prevent its
consummation."

"And who are these two powers, Sir Count?"

"One power is France, who would never consent to so striking an
aggrandizement of the house of Austria, and can not passively submit to
see it spread itself so extensively north, west, and east."

"And the second power, count?"

"The second power is the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine of the Palatinate,
who would never give up the handsome Electoral Prince, and would snatch at
any means of preventing his marriage with any one else. Will you
condescend to acknowledge that I have told the truth?"

"Yes!" cried the Princess passionately--"yes, you have told the truth! I
love him, and the only happiness upon earth for me is in becoming his
wife!"

"Princess, I presume to make a proposal to you. Let the two powers that
wish not the marriage with an Austrian archduchess conclude together a
league offensive and defensive. The power France accedes to this with joy.
It promises to further and support the second power in all her plans, to
lend her efficient aid, that the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine may wed the
Electoral Prince of Brandenburg."

"Oh, heavens, count, you would do that, you--"

"France will do that, not I," said the count passionately. "No, not I,
Princess, for you know well that I was rash enough to lift my eyes to your
heavenly apparition, my heart--But hush, you poor, foolish heart, suffer
and be dumb, sacrifice yourself, and only busy yourself in making happy
the sweet object of your warm and glowing love! Princess, you love the
Electoral Prince! France offers you her assistance that you may marry him.
This marriage will throw the Elector as well as the German Emperor into
the greatest rage; they will both refuse their consent; they will require
Holland to deliver up the Electoral Prince; they will proclaim invalid the
marriage between two minor lovers, and will cut off the Electoral Prince
from all means of subsistence."

"Oh, that is shocking, you give me a glimpse of a background which fills
me with dread and horror," lamented the Princess.

"Fear nothing, dread nothing," whispered the count. "France is here to
support you. France offers the young couple an asylum in Paris, and will
receive them at her court with pleasure. France will take care that the
Electoral Prince and his wife want for nothing; she will pay him rich
subsidies, contribute vast sums of money that the Electoral Prince may
present his young bride with a costly outfit; and finally, in the name of
her mother, the Electress of the Palatinate, provide the Princess with a
truly princely income."

"How kind, how generous that is of France!" cried Ludovicka. "It will
promote my happiness, it will aid me in being united with my beloved; it
thereby pledges me to eternal gratitude, and never shall I forget that I
owe to France the happiness of my whole life."

"And that, adored Princess, that is the only thing that France claims for
its good offices--a little gratitude! A faithful remembrance of its good
offices rendered, the sure promise that the Elector Frederick William of
Brandenburg will never range himself on the side of the enemies of France,
never league himself with the house of Austria against France, but forever
remain the faithful ally and friend of France!"

"I promise you that--I give you my solemn word for it! Oh, we are no
ingrates, to reward you with ingratitude; be sure and certain of that. The
Electoral Prince loves me; he will bid all welcome that makes a union with
me possible; he will be eternally grateful to those who will lend us a
helping hand."

"And--forgive me, your highness, for asking one question--has he offered
you his hand; has he made you a formal proposal of marriage?"

"He has sworn a thousand times that he loves me; he has so long and so
often besought me to grant him an interview that I have at last done
so--all the rest follows."

"Now," said the count, with a meaning smile, "that is just as one may take
it. In any case, this interview will be useful and to the purpose, and
your highness must now bring the Prince to declare himself formally."

"My heavens!" cried the Princess impatiently, "I tell you that he has very
often declared himself, that he has sworn to me a thousand times that of
all the world he loves me, and me alone! What more would you have him
say?"

"Princess, you are an angel of innocence and maidenly simplicity. When I
say the Prince must declare himself, I mean by that that he must sue for
your hand; he must say to you in so many words that he wishes to marry
you."

"Good! he shall do so, even to-day. Oh, sir, it pleases you to doubt the
love of the Electoral Prince? You dare to think it possible that he may be
only amusing himself with me--that he has no serious designs? I shall
prove to you that you are mistaken--that you wrong me and the Electoral
Prince alike by your doubt. This very night he shall offer me his
hand--this very night I shall engage myself to him!"

"And to-morrow night the nuptials must take place!" cried the count.

The Princess shrank back and a glowing blush overspread her cheeks. "So
soon--to-morrow night?" she murmured. "My God! this haste--"

"Is necessary, if the marriage is ever to take place at all, Princess.
There is a common but very wise proverb which says, 'Strike while the iron
is hot.' Strike, Princess, strike, for I tell you what does not happen
to-morrow night will be utterly impossible the day after. We have
fortunately our secret agents everywhere, as well here as at the courts of
Berlin and Koenigsberg, and we therefore know that both Count Schwarzenberg
and the Elector have sent their messengers here to induce the Electoral
Prince to a speedy departure, and to threaten him with his father's wrath
in case he should allow himself to marry the Princess Ludovicka
Hollandine."

"But that is abominable!" cried the Princess, with tears in her eyes. "One
of these messengers," continued the count, "and indeed the messenger of
Count Schwarzenberg, as I suspect, has already arrived this evening, and
the Electoral Prince has already received him. The other will probably
come to-morrow, and if you then still delay, if you do not surprise the
Prince in the first storm of his indignation, and thereby lead him to bind
himself to you by a secret marriage, then all is lost, and the two powers
Hollandine and France are conquered by Brandenburg and Austria."

"That shall not be!" cried the Princess, jumping up, and with hasty steps
moving to and fro. "No, we are not to be conquered! They shall not tear my
beloved from me!"

"Well, Princess, if you are firmly resolved, then I beg as a favor to be
allowed to be of service to you."

"Yes, help me--advise me."

"I have counted upon your love and your energy, Princess, and therefore
have already drawn up a stated plan. Will you hear it?"

"Not merely hear, but execute it, too, if it is at all practicable," cried
Ludovicka, while she remained standing in the center of the room, and
turned her large, flaming eyes upon the count, who had likewise arisen and
advanced smilingly toward her.

"Well, then, Princess, the plan is short and simple. The Prince makes you
to-night his offer of marriage."

"Yes, this very night," said she, proudly.

"He swears that he will marry you as soon as possible."

"Oh, you may be sure of that; he will swear it to me."

"Own to him that you have friends on whose aid and assistance you can
count, but let him not suspect who these friends are. Then lead the
conversation to the Media Nocte--But, my heavens!" exclaimed the count,
interrupting himself, while he looked as if accidentally at the clock, "it
only wants now a few minutes of two o'clock, and the Electoral Prince will
certainly come punctually, and therefore will be here directly. I have
written out all that it is necessary that you will have the complaisance
to do between this and to-morrow. Read it over at your leisure, and
impress it rightly upon your mind. Here is the paper, and may my writing
find a hearing and favor! If such be the case, as I hope and desire, then
will your highness have the goodness to open your window a little at ten
o'clock and display from it an orange-colored ribbon. All the rest will
take care of itself, and what your highness has to do is on the paper. I
hasten to withdraw, that your highness may have time to read my writing."

"But if the Prince should come now?" asked Ludovicka anxiously--"if he
should see a man descending from my window?"

"You are right, Princess; that is to be dreaded; and I, too, have
considered that. I will not leave through the window."

"Not through the window? But in what other way would you--"

"Go away, would you say? By yonder door! I know perfectly well that it
leads into the Princess's private apartment, and thence into the
antechamber. Oh, I know the Castle Doornward well, for is it not the
residence of the Electress of the Palatinate and her fair daughter the
Princess? Therefore I have had drawn out for myself an exact plan of
it. Moreover, your waiting maid Alice awaits me in the antechamber.
Forgive her for not having been able to withstand the persuasions of her
compatriot, the magician Ducato. Alice will permit me to slip out of the
castle by a back door. And now, adored Princess and exalted Electress of
the future, permit your most faithful and devoted servant ere he depart
once more to press your beloved hand to his lips, and to tell you how
inexpressibly happy--and, alas! how inexpressibly wretched--it makes him
that he can and--must assist in marrying the Princess Ludovicka to the
Electoral Prince."

With a bewitching smile the Princess held out her hand to him. "Count
d'Entragues," she said, "I shall be eternally grateful to you for your
self-sacrifice and good faith. I shall esteem myself happy if some day I
may find an opportunity of proving this to you. Farewell!"

He pressed a long, glowing kiss upon her hand. "Farewell!" he said. "When
I see you again, Princess, I shall accompany you to the altar, and must
witness the transformation of the Princess Ludovicka into an Electoral
Princess of Brandenburg, and in my heart will be prayers, but also tears!
Farewell!"

He sprang up, crossed the room with light, quick steps, unbolted the door,
and vanished behind the curtain. The Princess watched him until he had
disappeared, and, after she had convinced herself that he was actually
gone, and had bolted the door again, she took out the paper and read over
its contents slowly and with most serious attention.

As she read, brighter and brighter became her face, constantly more
radiant the smile upon her rosy lips. "Yes," she cried, after she had
twice read it through, "that will do--it shall be so! To-morrow in the
Media Nocte I will--"

A loud shrill whistle sounded. "He comes!" whispered she, "he comes!"

With trembling hands she thrust the paper into a casket belonging to her
writing table, and hurried to the window to open it and lower the rope
ladder.

At this moment the whistle rang forth for the second time, its tones
following one another in quick succession.

"It is he--it is my beloved," murmured Ludovicka, and with a happy smile
she listened out into the night.




II.--THE ELECTORAL PRINCE.


The Princess had not long to wait. The groaning and creaking of the rope
ladder already betrayed the presence of its burden. Ludovicka leaned
farther out of the window and saw the dark shadow mount higher and higher;
already she heard his breath, and now--oh, now he was there, swung himself
in at the window, and without saying a word, without seeing anything but
herself, only herself alone. He fell on his knees before the Princess,
flung both arms round her waist, and, looking up at her with a beaming
smile, whispered, "I thank you, Ludovicka, I thank you!"

She bent down to him with an expression of unutterable love, and their
bright eyes met in a tender glance. They formed a beautiful picture, those
two youthful figures combining in so lovely a group. She, bending over him
with a look brimful of love, he gazing up at her with animated, radiant
eyes. The full light of the wax candles in the silver chandelier
illuminated his countenance, and Ludovicka looked down upon him with a
smile as blissful as if she had now seen him for the first time.

"You are handsome," she whispered, softly, while with her white hand she
stroked his dark-brown hair, which fell in long waving curls, like the
mane of a lion, over both powerful shoulders. "Yes, you are handsome," she
smilingly repeated, and playfully passed her hand over his features, over
the lofty, thoughtful brow, the energetic, slightly prominent, aquiline
nose, over the full glowing lips, which breathed an ardent kiss upon the
hand that glided past.

"Now let me look into your eyes and see what is written in them,"
continued Ludovicka, and she stooped lower over the kneeling youth, and
looked long into those large, dark-blue eyes, which gazed up at her,
lustrous and bright as two twinkling stars.

"Have you read what is in my eyes?" he asked, after a long pause, in which
only their glances and their beating hearts had spoken to one another.
"Have you read it, my Ludovicka?"

With a charmingly pouting expression she shook her head. "No," said she
sadly, "I can not read it, or perhaps there is nothing in them, or at
least nothing for me!"

He jumped up, and, throwing his arms around her neck, leaned his face
close against hers, flashed his burning glance deep into her eyes, and in
doing so smiled a blissful, childlike smile.

"Now read," he said, almost imperiously--"read and tell me what is in my
eyes!"

She slowly shook her head. "There is nothing in them," she whispered.
"But, indeed, how can I know? The Electoral Prince Frederick William is so
very learned, and it is only my own fault that I can not read what is in
his eyes. It is written in Latin, or perhaps in Greek!"

"No, you mischievous, you cruel one," cried he impatiently. "You just will
not understand and read what is plainly and intelligibly written in my
eyes. My heart speaks neither Latin nor Greek, but German, and the eyes
are the lips with which the heart speaks."

"Well then, tell me, Cousin Frederick William, what is in your eyes?"

"I will tell you, Cousin Ludovicka Hollandine. They say: I love you! I
love you! And nothing but I love you!"

"But whom? To whom are these three little words addressed?"

"To you, you heartless, you wicked one, to you are these words addressed.
But not little words are they, as you say; they are great words, full of
meaning: for a world, a whole human life, my whole future, lies in these
three words--I love you."

He embraced her and pressed her close to his heart, and Ludovicka leaned
her head upon his shoulder and looked up at him with moist and glowing
eyes. He nodded smilingly to her, and then took her head between his two
hands and gazed long and rapturously upon her beautiful face.

"So I have you at last, and hold you, my golden butterfly," he said
gently. "You are mine at last, and I hold you fast by your transparent
wings, so that you can not flutter away from me again to fly up to the
sun, the flowers, the trees! O my butterfly! you pretty creature, made of
ethereal dust and rainbow splendor, of air and sunshine, of lightning
flashes and icy coldness, are you actually mine, then? May I trust you?
Think not I am only a poor little flower on which you may smilingly rock
yourself an hour in the sunshine, and enjoy the perfume which mounts up
from its heart's blood, and the love songs which its sighs waft to you in
the breeze! Tell me, you butterfly, will you no more flutter away, but be
true and never more distress and torment me?"

"I have never wished to distress and torment you, cousin."


"And yet you have done it, so often, so grievously!" cried he, and his
handsome open countenance grew quickly dark, while his eyes flashed with
indignation. "Ludovicka," he continued, "you have tortured and tormented
me, and often when I have seen how you smiled upon others and exchanged
glances with them, and allowed yourself to be pleased by their homage,
their devotion--often have I felt then as if an iron fist had seized my
heart to tear it from my breast, and felt as if I enjoyed this, and as if
I exulted with delight over my own wrath. Tear out my foolish heart, you
iron fist of pain, said I to myself; cast it far from me, this childish
heart, for then shall I be happy and glad, then shall I no longer feel
love but be freed from the fearful bondage it imposes upon me. How often,
Ludovicka, how often have I been ashamed of these chains, and bitten at
them, as the lion, languishing in a dungeon, bites at his."

"Truly, fair sir," cried Ludovicka, as arm in arm she and her beloved
moved toward the divan--"truly, to hear you talk, one would suppose that
love was a misfortune and a pain."

"It is so indeed," said he, almost savagely--"yes, love is a misfortune
and a pain; for with love comes doubt, jealousy, and jealousy is the most
dreadful pain. And then I have often said to myself as I wept about you
for rage and woe because I have seen you more friendly with others than
with me--I have often said to myself that it is unworthy of a man to allow
himself to be subjected by love, unworthy to make a woman the mistress of
his thoughts, of his desires; that a man should strive for higher aims,
aspire to nobler things."

"To nobler things? Now tell me, you monster, is there anything nobler than
a woman? Is there a higher aim than to win her love?"

"No; that is true, there is nothing higher!" cried he passionately. "No
there is nothing nobler. Oh, forgive me, Ludovicka, I was a heathen, who
denies his goddess, and finds fault with her out of excess of feeling. My
God! I have suffered so much through you and your cruelty! And I tell you
if you had not now at last heard my petition, at last granted me a
rendezvous, then--"

"Then you would have killed yourself," interrupted she--"then you would
have stabbed yourself on the threshold of my door, while you cursed me. Is
not that what you would have said?"

"No; I would have found out the man whom you preferred to me, and I would
have killed him, and you I would have despised--that is what I would have
said. But no, no, I can not conceive of or imagine myself despising
you--loving you no more! My whole soul is yours, and my heart flames up
toward you as if it were one vast and living lake of fire. You smile; you
do not believe me, Ludovicka! But I tell you, if you do not believe me,
neither do you believe in love itself."

"I do not believe in it, either, cousin; and you are quite right, your
heart is a lake of fire. You know, though, all fires become extinct?"

"When fuel is denied them, Ludovicka--not till then. They burn constantly,
if supplied with constant fuel."

"So then, my Electoral Prince, my heart is the fuel you would require?"

"Yes, my Princess, I do require it. I implore it of you. Be good,
Ludovicka, torment me not. Let me at last feel myself blessed--let me put
my arm around you, and say and think, she is mine! mine she remains!"

"Mine she remains!" repeated Ludovicka, sighing. "Alas! Frederick, how
long ere you will no longer wish that I were yours; how long ere all the
oaths of your heart will be forgotten and forever hushed? I have heard it
from all women--they all say that the love of men is perishable; that,
like a flash of lightning, it shines forth with vivid blaze, then vanishes
away."

"And they have all deceived you or been deceived themselves, Ludovicka.
The love of men never expires, unless forcibly extinguished by women. Be
trustful, my Ludovicka, trustful, and pious, and let love, holy and still,
ardent and glowing, penetrate your heart, just as I do, without trembling,
without hesitancy, and without the fear of men."

"You love me, then, love me truly?" asked Ludovicka, tenderly clinging to
him.

"I love you with wrath and pain, love you with rapture and delight, love
you in spite of the whole world! I will know nothing, consider nothing,
hear nothing of the folly of the wise, of the irrationality of the
rational, of the stupidity of the sage. I will know nothing and hear
nothing, but that I love you! Just as you are, so cruel and so lovely, so
coquettish and so innocent, so passionate and yet so cold. Oh, you are an
enchantress, who has changed my whole being and taken possession of all my
thoughts and all my feelings. Formerly I loved my parents, feared my
father, respected my friend and early teacher, the faithful Leuchtmar,
listened to his counsels, followed his advice. But now all that is
past--all is swallowed up. I think only of you, only know you, only hear
you."

"And yet a day will come when I shall call upon you in vain, a day when
you shall no longer hear my voice."

"It will be the day of my death."

"No; the day when you leave this place. The day on which you return to
your native land to become there a reigning lord, and leave the poor
humbled Princess Ludovicka behind here deserted and alone."

"But you? Will you not go with me?" he asked, in amazement. "Will not my
country be yours? And if I am a reigning lord, will you not stand as
sovereign lady by my side?"

"I?" asked she, bewildered. "How do you mean? I do not understand you."

"I mean," he whispered softly, while he clasped her closely to himself--"I
mean that you shall accompany me as my wife."

"But!" cried she, smiling, and with an expression of radiant joy--"but you
have never said that I should be your wife."

"Have I not told you that I love you? Have I not been repeating to you for
a year that I love you? And does it not naturally follow that you and you
alone are to be my wife?"

"But they will not suffer it, Frederick!" cried she, with an expression of
pain. "No, they will never suffer you to make me your wife."

"Who will not suffer it, Ludovicka?"

"Your parents will not suffer it, and the great Lord von Schwarzenberg,
who rules your father, as my mother has told me, and Herr von Leuchtmar,
who rules you and--"

"Nobody rules me," interrupted he indignantly, and a flush of anger or
shame suffused his face. "No, nobody rules me, and I shall never be
subject to any other will than my own."

"So you say now, Frederick, while you look into my eyes, while you are at
my side. But to-morrow, when I am no longer by, when your tutor shall have
proved with his cold, matter-of-fact arguments that the poor Princess
Ludovicka is no fit match for the Electoral Prince of
Brandenburg--to-morrow, when your tutor will chide his beloved
pupil for ever having allowed so foolish a love to enter his
heart, then--"

"I am a pupil no longer," interrupted he with glowing cheek. "I am
seventeen years old, and no tutor has any more power over me."

She seemed not to have heard him, and continued in her sweet, melancholy
voice: "To-morrow, when perhaps another messenger comes to summon you
home, when he brings you a letter from your father with the command to set
forth immediately, in which you are informed that he has selected a bride
for you, oh, then will the Electoral Prince Frederick William be naught
but the obedient son, who obeys his father's commands, who leaves this
country to seek his native land, and to wed the bride who has been chosen
for him by his father."

"No!" shouted the Electoral Prince fiercely, while he leaped up from the
divan, and stamped his foot upon the ground--"I say no, and once more no.
I shall not do what they order. I shall only follow my own will. And it is
my will, my fixed, unalterable will, to make you my wife, and this will I
shall carry into effect, despite my father, the German Emperor, and the
whole world. Ludovicka, I here offer you my hand. Do you accept it? Will
you be my wife?"

With a countenance irradiated by energy, pride, and love he held out his
hand to her, and smilingly she laid her own small hand in his. "Yes," she
said, "I will be your wife. With pride and joy I accept your beloved hand,
and swear that I love you, and will honor and obey you as my lord and my
beloved!"

He sank upon his knees before her, and kissed the hand which rested in his
own. "Ludovicka Hollandine, Princess of the Palatinate," he said, with
distinct and solemn voice, "I, Frederick William, Electoral Prince of
Brandenburg, vow and swear hereby to love and be faithful to you ever as
your wedded husband."

"I accept your oath, and return it!" she cried joyfully. "I, too, swear to
love and be ever true to you, and to take you for my husband. And here you
have my betrothal kiss, and here you have your destined bride. Take her,
and love her a little, for she loves you very much, and she will die of
chagrin if you forget her!"

"I shall never forget you, Ludovicka!" cried he, tenderly embracing her.
"Storms indeed will come, violent tempests will rage about us, but I
rejoice in them. For strength is tried by storms, and when it thunders and
lightens I can then prove to you that my arm is strong enough to protect
you, and that you are safe from all danger upon my heart."

"O Frederick! and still, still would they separate us. My mother just said
to me yesterday, 'Take care not to love the Electoral Prince seriously,
for he can never be your husband.' And when, trembling and weeping, I
asked the reason, she at last replied, 'Because you are a poor Princess,
and because the misfortunes of your house overshadow you likewise.' The
Elector and his minister will never give their consent to such a union,
and the Electoral Prince will never have the spirit to be disobedient to
his father and to marry in opposition to his wishes."

She darted a quick, searching glance at his face, and saw how he reddened
with indignation. "I shall prove to your mother that she is mistaken in
me," he said vehemently. "I am indeed yet young in years, but I feel
myself in heart a man who bows to no strange will, and is only obedient to
the law of his conscience and his own judgment. I love you, Ludovicka, and
I will marry you!"

"If they give us time, Frederick," sighed Ludovicka. "If they do not force
me first to wed some other man."

"What do you say?" cried the Electoral Prince, growing pale, as he clasped
his beloved yet closer to his side. "Could it be possible that--"

"That they sell and barter me away, just as they do other princesses? Yes,
alas! it is possible. Ay, Frederick, more than possible--it is certain
that they have such views. Wherefore think you, then, that the Electoral
Prince of Hesse is here--that he came yesterday with my uncle, the
Stadtholder, to visit my mother, and that he was even presented to me in
my own apartment? O Frederick! my mother has told me it is a settled
thing--that the Electoral Prince of Hesse has come to marry me. They have
already made arrangements, and got everything in readiness. Day after
to-morrow is to be the day for his formal wooing, and if you do not save
me, if you know of no way of escape, then in eight days I shall be the
bride of the Electoral Prince of Hesse. I had planned, Frederick, to try
you first--to hear from yourself whether you actually loved me, whether
your love was earnest. Had I discovered that you were only making sport of
my heart, had you not formally offered me your hand and sued for me as
your wife, then would I have gone silently away, would have buried my love
in the depths of my soul, sacrificed myself to my mother's wishes and the
misfortune of my house, and become the wife of the Electoral Prince of
Hesse. But you do love me, you offer me your hand, and now I confess my
love openly and joyfully--now I cast myself in your arms and entreat you:
Save me, my Frederick, do not let them tear me away from you! Save me from
the Electoral Prince of Hesse!"

She flung both her arms around him, pressed him closely to her, and looked
up to him with tenderly beseeching eye. With passionate warmth the
Electoral Prince kissed those alluring eyes and lips responding to his
pressure. "You shall be mine, you must be mine, for I love you
inexpressibly. I can not, I will not live without you!"

"Let us fly, my beloved," whispered she, always holding him in her
embrace.

"Let us fly before the wrath of your father, before the courtship
of the Electoral Prince of Hesse. Let us preserve our love in some quiet
corner of the earth; let us fly where no one can follow us, where your
father's will and his minister's hate can have no power--let us fly!"

"Yes," said he, clasping closer in his arms the tender, glowing creature
who clung so affectionately to him--"yes, let us fly, my beloved. They
shall not tear you from me; I will have you, in spite of them all--you
shall be mine, even though the whole world should rise up in opposition.
To-morrow night let us make our escape. You are right; there must be some
quiet corner of the world where we can hide ourselves, living for
happiness, for love alone, until it is permitted us to emerge from our
seclusion, and assume the station in the world due to us both. Yes, we
will flee, Ludovicka, we will flee, no matter where!"

"Oh, I hope I know a place of refuge, where we may be sheltered from the
first wrath of our relatives, my Frederick. I have friends, influential,
mighty friends, who will gladly furnish us with an asylum, and from whom
we may accept it. To them I shall turn--to them apply for a retreat. They
will provide us with the means for flight. Only, my beloved," she
continued, hesitating and with downcast eyes, "only one thing is needful
to enable me to flee with you."

"What is that, my beloved, tell me?"

"Frederick, I can only follow my husband, only go with you as your wife."

"Yes, you sweet, lovely girl, you can only follow me as your husband.
To-morrow night we make our escape, and ere we escape we must be married,
and a priest shall bless our love. You say you have influential and
powerful friends here, and indeed I know that the richest, noblest men in
Holland vie with one another for one kind glance from my Ludovicka. Oh,
not in vain have the States stood godfather for my bride, and given her
their name. Now will some rich, powerful citizen of Holland prove that he,
too, is godfather to the lovely Princess Hollandine, and in Java or Peru,
or perhaps on some ship, find us a republic. I accept it, beloved, I
accept it, and swear beforehand that the future Elector shall reward the
rich mynheer and the whole of Holland for the good now done to the
Electoral Prince and his beloved Hollandine. Speak, therefore, to your
good, rich friends; tell them they may help and assist us. I agree to
everything, I accept everything. I only want you, you yourself, for you
are my all, my life, my light!"

"You give me full power, then, to make arrangements for our flight, my
Frederick?"

"I give you full power, my beloved; you are wiser, more thoughtful than I
am; besides, you are not so strictly guarded, so encircled by spies as I
am."

"No; to-morrow I am still free," exulted she--"to-morrow the Electoral
Prince of Hesse has as yet no power over me, and no one will be observing
me. My mother has been detained by sickness at The Hague, and here at
Doornward there are no spies. Yes, I take charge of all, beloved. I shall
manage everything, and to-morrow night I shall expect you."

"To-morrow night I shall come here to take you away, my, beloved."

"No, not here, for to-morrow my mother comes home, and then the castle
will no longer be so solitary and quiet; then there will be many people
here, and our movements might be watched."

"Well, where else shall I find you, Ludovicka?"

She clung to him, and gazed tenderly into his glowing eyes. "Oh," she
said, "you do not know what I have ventured and dared for you. Do you
remember with what animation and rapture you spoke to me recently of the
secret league which exists at The Hague, of the rare feasts which you
solemnize there, of the pleasure and delight you experience there? Do you
remember how you lamented that we could not enjoy this glorious
companionship together, that I could not be there at your side? Well, see,
beloved, now you must admit how much I love you, and how ready I am to
please you. I have in perfect secrecy and silence had myself initiated
into the order of the Media Nocte."

"You have done that?" cried the Prince, in joyful astonishment. "You
belong to this glorious company of great minds, naming hearts, and noble
souls? Oh, my Ludovicka, I recognize your love in this, and I thank you,
and am proud of it that my betrothed belongs to the genial, the
intellectual, and the elect. Oh, you are not merely my destined bride, you
are my muse, my goddess, and in humility I bow my head before you, and I
kiss the hem of your robe, beloved mistress, chosen one!"

He bent his knee and kissed her robe, and bowed lower to kiss the tiny
foot in its blue satin shoe. Then he raised one of these pretty feet and
kissed it again, and placed it on his breast, holding it fast there with
both his hands.

"Mistress," he whispered, lifting up to her his countenance, beaming with
love and enthusiasm--"mistress, your slave lies before you. Crush me, let
me be dust beneath your feet, if you do not love me; let me die here, or
swear to me that you will ever love me, that to-morrow night you will link
your destiny indissolubly with mine!"

"I will ever love you," she breathed forth, with a magical smile;
"to-morrow night I will link my fate to yours."

"Give me a pledge of your vow, a sign, a token of this hour!" entreated
he, still holding the little foot between his hands.

"What sort of pledge do you require, beloved of my heart? Ask, command;
whatever it may be, it shall be yours!"

With beaming, happy look he gazed upon her glowing countenance, and nodded
to her, and whispered words full of tenderness and love, and at the same
time with fondling hand loosened the silver buckle which fastened the blue
satin shoe upon her foot, drew off the slipper from her little foot, whose
rosy hue was transparent through the white silk stocking, and smilingly
thrust it into the breast pocket of his velvet jacket. "But, Frederick, my
shoe--give me back my shoe," said she, laughing; and her little hand and
wondrous arm dived into his pocket to recover the stolen shoe. But the
Prince held fast the little hand, whose warm, soft touch he felt to the
deepest recesses of his heart, and pressed warm, glowing kisses on that
ravishing arm, which seemed to quiver and tremble at the touch of his lips.

"My shoe," she breathed softly--"give me my shoe!"

"Never!" said he energetically. "No, I swear it, so truly as I love you, I
shall never give back to you this precious jewel. Mine it remains, and not
for all the treasures of the earth do I give it back again. Here, on my
heart, it shall rest, the charming little shoe, and when I die it shall
rest beside me in my coffin."

"No, no, I will have it again!" cried Ludovicka. "My heavens! what would
my chambermaid say, if to-morrow morning one of my shoes had
vanished--been spirited away?"

"Let her say and think what she pleases, dearest. Tell her you will direct
her where to find it on the day after to-morrow. Think you not that when
our flight is discovered, she will readily guess who has stolen your shoe?"

"But see, Frederick, see my poor foot; it is freezing, pining for its
house!"

And smilingly Ludovicka extended toward the Prince her shoeless little
foot. He took it between his hands and breathed on it with his glowing
breath, and pressed upon it his burning lips.

"Forgive me, you beautiful foot, for having robbed you of your house. But
look you, dear foot, the little house shall now become a sacred memento of
my love and my betrothal; and look you, dear foot, I swear to you that you
shall walk in pleasant paths. I shall strew flowers for you, you shall
tread upon roses, and not a thorn shall prick you and not a stone bruise
you. That I swear to you, you little foot of the great enchantress, and
therefore forgive me my theft!"

"It shook its head, it will not!" cried Ludovicka, swinging her foot to
and fro.

"It shall forgive, or I will punish its mistress!" cried the Prince, while
he sprang up, ardently encircling his beloved with his arm. "Yes, you
shall pay me for your cruel foot, and--"

All at once he became silent, and, hearkening, looked toward the wall.
Ludovicka shrank back, and turned her eye to the same spot.

"Is there, a door there?" whispered he.

"Yes," she breathed softly, "a tapestry door leading to the small
corridor, and thence into my sleeping apartment."

"Is any one in your sleeping room?"

"My little cousin, Louisa of Orange, who came to-day, and insisted upon
staying here--Hush, for God's sake! she is coming. Hide yourself!"

He flew across the room and jumped behind the door curtain, through which
d'Entragues had gone out a little while before. The curtain yet shook from
the violence of his movement, when the little tapestry door on the other
side was opened, and a lovely child appeared upon the threshold. A long
white nightgown, trimmed with rose-colored favors, concealed the slender
delicate form in its flowing drapery, falling from the neck to the feet,
which, perfectly bare, peeped forth from beneath the white wrapper like
two little rose-buds. Her fair hair was parted over the broad, open brow,
and fell in long, heavy ringlets on each side of the lovely childish face.
The big blue eyes looked so pious and innocent, and such a soft, gentle
smile played about the fresh crimson lips! In this whole fair apparition
there was such a wondrous magic, so superhuman a loveliness, that it might
have been supposed that an angel from heaven had descended and was now
entering this apartment, which was yet aglow with the sighs and
protestations of passionate earthly love, and radiant as a consecrated
altar taper shone the candle in the silver candlestick which she carried
in her hand. Lightly and inaudibly the child tripped across the floor to
the Princess, who had thrown herself upon the divan, and assumed the
appearance of just being aroused from a deep slumber.

"Forgive me, dear, beautiful Aunt Ludovicka," said the little girl, in a
low, soft voice, while she placed the candle upon the table and leaned
over the Princess--"forgive me for waking you up. But I had such a fearful
dream, and I fancied it was real. It seemed to me as if robbers were in
the castle. I heard them laugh and talk quite plainly, and I was
dreadfully distressed, and called you. You did not answer me, and then I
thought they had already murdered you, and I sprang from the sofa where
they had prepared my couch, near to your bed. You were not there, your bed
was cold and empty, and still I heard quite plainly the loud laughing and
talking of the robbers, and I was so dreadfully anxious and distressed
that I must see where you were--I must see if they had not murdered you. I
took the light and came here running, and, God be thanked! here is my dear
Aunt Hollandine, and no robbers have taken her away from me, and no
murderers have killed her."

With her slender childish arms she embraced the Princess, and pressed her
rosy cheeks tenderly against Ludovicka's glowing face.

"You little blockhead, how you have frightened me!" said Ludovicka,
repulsing her almost rudely. "I was asleep here, dreaming such sweet
dreams, and all at once you have come and waked me, you little night owl.
Go, go to bed, Louisa, and do not be so timid, child. No robbers and
murderers come here, and in our castle you need not be afraid."

"Ah, Aunt Hollandine," whispered the child, while she cast a frightened,
anxious glance around the room--"ah, Aunt Hollandine, I am afraid that
this castle is haunted. It was either robbers or evil spirits who made
such a noise and talked and laughed so loud. And"--she stooped lower and
quite softly whispered--"and you may believe me, dear, good aunt, it is
haunted here. I plainly saw the curtain across there shake as I entered.
Evil spirits are abroad to-night. Do you hear how it howls and whistles
out of doors, and how the windows rattle? Those are spirits, and they have
flown in here and laughed and danced. O aunt! you did not hear, but I did,
for I have been awake, and have heard and seen how the door curtain shook,
and there they lurk now, those wicked spirits, and look at us and laugh.
Oh, I know that, I do! My nurse, Trude, told me all about it the other
evening, and she knows. There are good and bad spirits; but the good
spirits make no noise, and you would not know they were here. They come to
you so quietly and so gently, and sit by your bed and look at you, and
their faces shine like the moon and their eyes like stars, and their
thoughts are prayers and their smiles God's blessing. But evil spirits are
noisy and boisterous, and laugh and make an uproar as they did to-night!"

"You have been dreaming, little simpleton, and fancy now that you really
heard what dull sleep alone was thrumming about your ears. All has been
quiet and peaceful here, and no evil spirits were in this room--trust me."

"Neither were good spirits here, aunt!" cried the child; with tearful
voice. "The door curtain did move, and I did hear laughter--believe me.
And, dear Aunt Hollandine, I beg you to give me your hand and come with me
into your sleeping room, and please be kind enough to your poor little
Louisa to take her with you into your great fine bed, and let us hug one
another and pray together and sleep together; then the evil spirits can
not get to us. Come, dear aunt, come!"

With both her hands she seized the Princess by the arm, and tried to lift
her from the divan. But Ludovicka hastily pushed her away.

"Leave such follies, Louisa, and go to bed!" she said angrily. "Had I
known what a restless sleeper you were, I should not have gratified your
wish of staying with me, but had you put to bed on the other side of the
castle with the little princesses, my sisters."


"Aunt," said the child, in a touching tone of voice, "I will be perfectly
still and quiet, I shall certainly not disturb you, if you will only be
good and kind enough to come with me."

"No," said Ludovicka, "no, I am not going with you, for I have something
still to do here. But if you are good and docile, and go back quietly and
prettily to the sleeping room, and creep into your little bed, then I
promise you to come soon."

"Well, then, I will go," sighed the child, and dropped her little head
like a withered flower. "Yes, I will be good, that you may love me. But
please come soon, Aunt Ludovicka, come soon."

She again took the candlestick from the table, nodded to the Princess and
tried to smile, while at the same time two long-restrained tears rolled,
like liquid pearls, from her large blue eyes over her rosy cheeks. Softly
and with her little head always bowed down she crossed the apartment to
the tapestry door; but, just as she was on the verge of the threshold, she
stopped, turned around, and an expression of radiant joy flashed across
her pretty face.

"Dear aunt," she cried, "Trude told me that when we pray evil spirits must
fly away, and have no longer any power. I will pray, yes, I will pray for
you."

And the child sank upon her knees. Placing the candlestick at her side,
she folded her little white hands upon her breast, raised her head and
eyes, and prayed in a distinct, earnest voice: "Dear Heavenly Father and
all ye holy angels on high, protect the innocent and the good! O God!
guide us to thee with the golden star which shone upon the shepherds in
the field when they went out to seek the child Christ! Blessed angels,
come down and keep guard around our bed, that no evil spirits and bad
dreams can come to trouble us! God and all ye holy angels on high, have
pity on the innocent and good! Amen! Amen! Amen!"

And at the last amen, the child rose from her knees, again took up her
light, and tripped lightly and smiling out of the room.

Ludovicka sprang to the door, shut it close, and leaned against it. The
Electoral Prince stepped forth from the curtain on the other side, and his
countenance was grave, and his large eyes were less fiery and passionate,
as he now approached the Princess.

"Poor child," he whispered, "how bitterly distressed she is! Go to her, my
precious love, and pray with her for our happiness and our love."

"Are you going away already, my Frederick?" she asked tenderly.

He pointed with his finger to the tapestry door. "She is so distressed,
and her dear little face was so sad, it touched me to the heart."

"How foolish I was," she murmured impatiently--"how foolish not to think
of it, that the child might disturb us! She has often before spent the
night with me, and never waked up, never--"

"Never has she been disturbed," concluded the Prince, smiling. "Never
before have evil spirits chattered and laughed within your room, and
roused her from her sleep. But she shall yet see that her prayer has not
been in vain, but that it has exorcised the evil spirits. Farewell, dear
one! Farewell, and this kiss for good-night--this kiss for my beloved
promised bride! The last betrothal kiss, for to-morrow night you will be
my wife! God and all ye holy angels on high, protect the innocent and
good!"

He kissed once more her lips and her dark, perfumed hair, then hastened
with rapid step across the apartment, hurriedly opened the window, lowered
the rope ladder, and swung himself up on the windowsill."

"Farewell, dearest, farewell! To-morrow night we shall meet again!" he
whispered, kissing the tips of his fingers to her. Then he seized the rope
ladder with both hands, and ere the Princess, who had hastened toward him,
had yet found time to assist him and offer her hand to aid him in
descending, his slight, elastic figure had disappeared beneath the dark
window frame.

Ludovicka leaned out of the window, and with all the strength of her
delicate little hands held firm the rope ladder, which swayed backward and
forward and sighed and groaned beneath its burden. All at once the rope
ladder stood still, and like spirit greetings were wafted up to her the
words, "Farewell! farewell!"

"He is gone," murmured Ludovicka, retreating from the window--"he is gone!
But to-morrow, to-morrow night, I shall have him again. To-morrow night I
shall be his wife. O Sir Count d'Entragues! you shall be forced to
acknowledge that the Electoral Prince loves me, and that his declaration
of love is synonymous with an offer of marriage! I think I have managed
everything exactly as it was marked out on the paper. Let us look again."

She again drew forth the paper from the casket on her writing table, and
read it through attentively. "Yes," she murmured as she read, "all in
order. Offer of marriage elicited. Alarmed by the threat that they will
unite me to the Prince of Hesse. Not betray who the friends are who will
render me their aid. Secret marriage arranged. Time presses, To-morrow
night. All is in order. The Media Nocte, too, confessed. Only one thing is
still wanting. I only omitted telling him that our rendezvous must be in
the Media Nocte, and that we make our escape from there. Well, never mind,
I can tell him to-morrow, and about ten o'clock the orange-colored ribbon
may flutter from my window, and Count d'Entragues will be so rejoiced! Oh,
to-morrow, to-morrow I shall be my handsome Electoral Prince's wife!"

She stretched forth her arms, as if she would embrace, although he was
invisible, the handsome, beloved youth, whose kisses yet burned upon her
lips. Her flaming eyes wandered over the apartment, as if she still hoped
to find there his fine and slender shape. Now, not finding him, she sighed
heavily and fixed her eyes upon the great portrait, which hung upon the
wall above the divan. It was the half-length likeness of a woman, a queen,
as was shown by the diadem of pearls surmounting her high, narrow
forehead, and behind which a crown could be discerned. A rare picture it
was, possessed of magical attractions. The large blue eyes, so glowing and
tender, the soft, rounded cheeks, so transparently fair, the full, pouting
lips, so speaking--all seemed to promise joy; and yet in the whole
expression of the face there was so much melancholy and so much pain!
Princess Ludovicka walked softly to the portrait, and lifted up to it her
folded hands.

"I, too, will pray," she whispered. "Yes, I will pray to you, Mary Stuart,
queen of love and beauty! O Mary! holy martyr, graciously incline thy
glance toward thy grandchild. Let thy starry eyes rest upon me, and
graciously protect me in the path that I shall tread to-morrow, for it is
the path of love! Oh, let it be the path of happiness as well! Mary
Stuart, pray for me, and protect me, your grandchild! Amen!"




III.--THE WARNING.


"Your Highness stayed out very late again last night," said Herr Kalkhun
von Leuchtmar, as he entered the sleeping apartment of the Electoral
Prince Frederick William, who was still in bed.

"Yes, it is true," replied the Prince, stretching himself at his ease, "I
did come home very late last night."

"The chamberlain has already waked your highness three times, and your
highness has each time assured him that he would get up, but has each
time, it seems, fallen asleep again."

"Yes, I did fall asleep each time," answered Frederick William, in a
somewhat irritated tone of voice; "and what of it?"

"Why," said Herr von Leuchtmar pleasantly--"why, the painter Gabriel
Nietzel, who arrived yesterday, and, to whom your highness promised to
give audience this morning at eight o'clock, has been waiting almost two
hours; Count von Berg, on whom your highness was to call at nine o'clock,
has been expecting you an hour in vain--the horse has stood saddled in the
stable for an hour; and the private secretary Mueller, with whom your
highness was to prepare to-day a treatise upon fortifications, will
probably make no progress whatever with the work."

"It seems that I am not to have the privilege of sleeping as long as I
choose," cried the Electoral Prince, with a mocking laugh. "My house moves
like clockwork, in which there is no comfort or rest whatever, but where
each must perform his prescribed service with mathematical exactness, that
the whole be not stopped."

"It is in a house as in a state," said Leuchtmar seriously: "each one,
high and low, must do his duty, else the whole machinery stops, and, as
your highness very justly remarked, the clockwork either stands still or
is at the least put out of order."

"Consequently, the clockwork of my house was disarranged merely because I
stayed up two hours later than I have been accustomed to do?"

"Totally disarranged, your highness."

The Prince reddened with displeasure, his eyes flashed, and he had already
opened his mouth for an angry reply, when he violently restrained himself.

"I will get up," he said, "and then we can talk more about it."

Herr von Leuchtmar bowed and withdrew to the antechamber. A quarter of an
hour, however, had hardly elapsed before the chamberlain issued from the
Prince's sleeping apartment, and announced to Herr Kalkhun von Leuchtmar,
that breakfast was served, and that his highness, the Electoral Prince,
awaited the baron's attendance at this meal in his drawing room. Herr von
Leuchtmar hastened to obey the summons, and to repair to the Prince's
drawing room. Frederick William seemed not at all conscious of his
entrance. He sat on the divan sipping his chocolate, and at the same time
restlessly playing with the greyhound that lay at his feet, looking up at
him with its gentle, truthful eyes. Herr von Leuchtmar seated himself
opposite the Prince, and took his breakfast in silent reserve. Once the
Prince's eye scanned the noble, serious countenance of his former tutor,
and the expression of perfect repose resting there seemed to pique and
irritate him. He jumped up and several times walked briskly up and down
the room. Then he paused before Leuchtmar, who had likewise risen, and
whose large, dark-blue eyes were turned upon the Prince in gentle sorrow.

"Leuchtmar," said the latter, shortly and quickly, "all is not between us
as it should be."

"I have remarked it for some time with pain," replied the baron softly.
"Your highness is out of humor."

"No, I am discontented!" cried the Prince; "and, by heavens, I have a
right to be!"

"Will your highness have the kindness to tell me why you are discontented?"

"Yes, I will tell you, for you must know it in order that you may endeavor
to alter it. I am discontented, Leuchtmar, because you and Mueller will
never forget that I have owed respect to you as my teachers."

"Prince," said the baron, lifting his head a little higher--"Prince, have
we two behaved ourselves so as no longer to deserve your respect?"

"Respect, indeed; but you confound respect with obedience, and wish me to
obey you unreservedly, as if I were still a boy, subject to his teachers."

"While now you would say you are a Prince arrived at years of majority,
who no longer needs a teacher, and whose earlier preceptors are now only
his subjects, dependent upon him."

"No, I would not say that; and it is exceedingly obliging in you to carry
your guardianship so far as even to interpret what I would say. Meanwhile,
you have made a remark which claims my attention. You said that I was a
Prince in my majority?"

"Certainly, your highness, you are a major in so far as the laws of the
electoral house of Brandenburg allow the Electoral Prince, in case of his
father's death, if he has attained his sixteenth year, to assume the reins
of government, independent of governor or regent."

"Consequently, if my father were to die (which God forbid!) I might
administer the government independently, in my own right?"

"Independently and in your own right, your highness."

"Whence comes it then that I, who might undertake the government of a
whole country, am yet perpetually under restraint in the conduct of my own
private life, watched over and treated like an irresponsible boy? It
grieves me, Herr von Leuchtmar, to be forced to remind you that the time
for my education is past, for I am not sixteen years old, but already
several weeks advanced in my eighteenth year."

"I thank your highness for this admonition," replied the baron quietly,
"and I confess that without it I should not have known that your education
was finished."

"Sir, you insult me! So you still regard me as nothing but a boy?"

"No, your highness, as a man, and I believe that Socrates was right when
he said, 'The education of man begins in the cradle and ends only in the
grave.'"

"You know very well that he meant it in a widely different sense. Our talk
is not now of actual education, but of the relations of pupil and teacher.
The time of my pupilage is past, Sir Baron, and you will bear in mind, I
beg, that I no longer sit in the schoolroom."

"That, again, I did not know," said Leuchtmar gently, "and again in my
defense I cite the wise Socrates, who said, 'Man is learning his whole
life long, to confess at last that the only certain knowledge he has
attained is that he knows nothing.'"

"Maxims and maxims forever!" cried the Prince impatiently. "You want to
evade me--you purposely misunderstand me. Well, then, candidly speaking, I
am sick and tired of being everlastingly found fault with, watched over,
tutored and spied upon, and once for all I beg that a stop be put to all
this."

"Will your highness do me the favor to say who it is that finds fault
with, watches over, tutors, and spies upon you?"

"Why, yes--you, Baron Kalkhun von Leuchtmar, you and the private secretary
Mueller, you two first and foremost do those very things."

"Your highness, if we have allowed ourselves to find fault with you when
you did not deserve it, it was very presumptuous; if we have watched over
you and tutored you, surely that might be forgiven in former tutors and
instructors; but if we have acted as spies upon you, then have we both
degraded ourselves and become contemptible, and your highness may esteem
it as my last tutoring if I advise you to remove so unworthy a couple of
subjects forever from your presence."

"You will lead me _ad absurdum_, Leuchtmar!" cried the Prince. "You would
prove to me that I am wrong and accuse you falsely. But you are mistaken,
sir; I only speak the truth. One thing I ask you, though: have you ever
looked upon me as an ungrateful pupil, a disobedient scholar, an
ill-natured, idle man?"

"No, never," returned Leuchtmar cordially. "No, your highness--"

"Leave off those tiresome titles," interrupted the Prince. "Speak simply
and to the point, without ceremony, as is becoming in serious moments,
when man stands face to face with man."

"Well then, no. You have ever been only a source of delight to your
teachers and preceptors, and have ever proved yourself a kind-hearted,
friendly, and condescending young Prince. You have (forgive me for saying
so) been indeed the model of a young, amiable, good, and intellectual
Prince. You have completed your studies at the universities of Arnheim and
Leyden to the highest satisfaction of your professors. You have
distinguished yourself at the colleges by diligence and attention, and
perfected yourself in the languages and mastered all the sciences. Since
you have been here at The Hague you have won for yourself the love and
admiration of all those who have had the good fortune to come into your
presence--"

"Leuchtmar," interrupted the Prince, with difficulty suppressing a
smile--"Leuchtmar, now you are falling into the opposite error; before you
blamed me too much, now you praise me too much!"

"Prince, I spoke before as now, only according to my inmost convictions,
and you permit me still to utter these, do you not?"

"Well," said Frederick William, hesitating, "the thing is--if your
convictions are too flattering or too injurious, you might moderate them a
little. For example, the way you acted in my sleeping room, a little while
ago, was injurious. Just acknowledge it--say that you went a little too
far, that it was not becoming in you to find fault with me, because I sat
up a few hours too late, and all is made up."

"Prince," replied Leuchtmar, after a slight pause--"Prince, forgive me,
but I can not say it, for it would be an untruth. For a Prince, want of
punctuality is a very dangerous and bad fault, and if he first becomes
unreliable in his outer being, he will be so soon in his inner nature as
well. But I do admit that perhaps I spoke in too excited a tone of voice,
and the reason of that was, because--"

"Well? Be pleased to finish your sentence. Because--"

"Because, yes, let it be spoken plainly, because I know what this keeping
of late hours means."

"And what does it mean, if I may ask?"

"Prince, my dear, beloved Prince, you whom in the depths of my soul I call
my son, Prince, forgive me if I answer. It means that you have fallen into
bad company--company which it is beneath your dignity to keep, company
alike prejudicial to your mind and honor as to your health."

"Of what company do you dare to speak so?" asked the Prince, with wrathful
voice.

"Prince, of that company which is hypocritical and deceitful as sin,
dazzling and alluring as a poisonous flower, dangerous and deadly as
Scylla and Charybdis, of the company of the Media Nocte."

The Prince laughed aloud, and at the same time drew a deep breath, as if
he felt his breast relieved of an oppressive burden. "Ah," he said, "is it
only this? The Media Nocte is indeed a society which appears to all those
who do not belong to it as a monster, a dragon, which slays with its fiery
breath those who approach it, and daily requires for its breakfast a youth
or a maiden. But I tell you, you anxious and short-sighted fools, you take
an eagle for a flying dragon, and scream fire merely because you see a
bright light! The Media Nocte is no monster, no Scylla and Charybdis, and
we need not on her account have our arms bound, as cunning Ulysses did,
which, by the way, always seemed to me very weak and womanly. A man must
go to meet danger with a bold eye, with valiant spirit; he must confront
it with his freedom of will and strength, and not seek to defend himself
from it by outward means of resistance. Supposing that the Media Nocte
were the dangerous society which you erroneously imagine it to be, need
this be a ground for me to intrench myself timidly against it and flee its
touch? No; just for that very reason would I seek it out--advance to meet
it with the determination to do battle with it. But I tell you that you
are mistaken in your premises! The Media Nocte is a society devoted to
noble pleasures, to pure joys, to the highest, most intellectual
enjoyments. All the arts, all the sciences, are fostered by it. All that
is great and good, exalted and beautiful, is hailed there with delight,
and only pedantry and stupidity are held aloof. Truth and nature are the
two sacred laws observed in this society, and the noble, pure, free, and
chaste Grecian spirit is the great exemplar of all its members. Therefore
they all appear in Greek robes, and all their banquets are solemnized in
the Greek style. And this it is which you wise, pedantic people stigmatize
as blameworthy and abominable. The unusual fills you with horror, and the
genial you call bold because it soars above what is commonplace!"

"Well do I know that your highness looks upon the society in this way,"
replied Leuchtmar, regarding with loving glances the handsome, excited
countenance of the Prince. "Yes, I know that this is the only view you
have had of the society of the Media Nocte, and that you would turn from
it with horror and disgust if you were conscious of the license lurking
behind its apparent geniality, the coarseness behind the unusual. But I
beseech you, Prince, be not blind with your eyes open, close not
voluntarily the avenues to light. I swear to you as an honest and a
truthful man, that this society is like a plague spot for the noble youth
of The Hague. Each one who touches it becomes impregnated with its poison,
and sickens in spirit and imagination, and the fearful poison flows into
his mind and heart, driving out from them forever truth and freshness,
youth and innocence! Had I a son who belonged to this society with full
understanding and appreciation of its meaning, I should mourn and lament
him as one lost; had I a daughter, and had she even once voluntarily
attended a meeting of the Media Nocte and participated in its pleasures,
then should I thrust her from me with aversion and disgust--should no
longer recognize her as my daughter, but forever expel her from my house
in shame and disgust, for--"

"Desist!" cried the Prince, with thundering voice, springing toward
Leuchtmar and grasping his shoulders with both hands. Glaring fiercely
upon him, he repeated, "Desist, I tell you, Leuchtmar, desist, and recall
what you have just said, for it is a libel, a slander!"

"No, it is the truth, Prince!" cried Leuchtmar, emphatically. "The Media
Nocte is a society of the honorless and shameless, and the woman who
belongs to it is no longer pure!"

"No further, man, or I shall kill you!" said the Prince, in a high-pitched
voice stifled by rage, while his arms clutched Leuchtmar's shoulders yet
more firmly. "Only hear this: You know and have long guessed that I love
the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine. Well, now, the Princess Ludovicka
Hollandine belongs to the society of the Media Nocte!"

"I knew that, Prince," said Leuchtmar solemnly.

The Prince gave a scream of rage, and a deadly pallor overspread his
cheeks. He still retained his grasp upon Leuchtmar's shoulders, his
flashing eyes penetrated like dagger points Leuchtmar's countenance, and
on his brow stood great drops of sweat, which gave witness of his inward
tortures.

"You knew that," he said, with gasping breath and gnashing teeth--"you
knew that, and yet you dare to speak so, dare to vilify the maiden whom I
love, dare to asperse a pure angel, to call her an outcast! Take back your
words, man, if your life is dear to you--recall them, if you would leave
this room alive!"

"Kill me, Prince, for I do not recall them!" cried Leuchtmar, tranquilly
meeting the flaming glances of the Prince. "No, I do not recall them, and
if you take away my life, I shall give it up in your service and for your
profit. You see very well I attempt no defense, although I am a strong
man, who knows well how to defend his life. But for my own convictions and
for you I die gladly. Kill me then!"

"You do not recall them?" shrieked the Prince. "You maintain all to be
truth that you have said of the order of the Media Nocte? You knew already
before I told you that the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine belongs to it?"

"I knew it, Prince, indeed, I knew it!"

The Prince burst into a wild laugh, and with a sudden jerk thrust
Leuchtmar so violently from him that he reeled backward against the wall.

"No," he said grimly and wrathfully--"no, I will not do you the pleasure
to kill you, for that would turn a wretched farce into a tragedy, and make
a hero of a comedian! You are a good comedian, and you have played your
part well! I can testify to that. Go and claim credit for this with my
father and Count Schwarzenberg!"

"I do not understand you, Prince. What does this mean?"

"It means, Mr. Comedian, it means, that already this morning, while you
supposed I was sleeping, I have had an interview with Gabriel Nietzel, my
mother's court painter. Ah! now start back and be amazed. Yes, Gabriel
Nietzel sat by my bed for more than an hour, and brought me a verbal
message from my mother. She had also intrusted him with a letter for me,
but on his journey here he has been robbed and the letter taken from him.
Oh, I imagine the robbers took much more interest in the letters than in
the effects of the painter, and Count Schwarzenberg and yourself both well
know their contents. But happily my mother gave good Gabriel Nietzel a
message to bring by word of mouth as well, which they could not steal from
him, Baron von Leuchtmar. Can you understand now why I call you a
comedian, who has studied his part well?"

"No, Electoral Prince of Brandenburg, I can not yet."

"Well, sir, then I shall tell you. Your virtuous indignation against the
Media Nocte, your shameful allegations against a Princess, whom I love,
your injurious accusations and slanders--all that was nothing more than a
well-studied role prepared for you by my father and his minister. Oh,
answer me not, do not deny it. I know what I say. Yes, I know that the
Emperor of Germany deigns to interest himself in the marriage of the
little Electoral Prince of Brandenburg. I know that his condescension goes
so far as to desire to bless me with the hand of an Austrian archduchess.
I know that on this account he has given strict orders and injunctions to
his devoted servant, who is my father's all-powerful minister, that I
shall be summoned away from The Hague; not, indeed, to reside at my
father's court, but to proceed to the imperial court. But, God be thanked,
the walls of the palace of Berlin are not o'er thick, and my mother has
quick ears and Gabriel Nietzel is a trusty messenger. Yes, sir, I know you
and your plans. I know, too, that the Emperor dreads my union with the
Princess Ludovicka; that he has had my father notified that he will never
sanction such a union, and that therefore my father and his Catholic
minister have dispatched hither messengers and envoys, with strict orders
never to suffer a matrimonial alliance with the Princess Ludovicka
Hollandine, but to do everything to prevent it. Everything to prevent it!
Do you understand me, sir? To calumniate also, and accuse and defame. But
all together you shall not succeed. I shall prove to the Emperor, the
Elector and his minister that I do not fear their wrath, and that the
Electoral Prince of Brandenburg will never, never be the vassal and
servant of the German Emperor; that he feels himself to be an independent
man, who claims for himself freedom of will and action, and who will only
wed in obedience to the dictates of his own heart and his own will. But
you, Leuchtmar, I herewith bid you farewell! We part to-day, and forever.
That we so part, believe me, is to me a lifelong pain, for never can I
forget what I owe you, and how faithful you have otherwise been to me.
Leuchtmar, it is dreadful that you have turned against me. Go, we have
parted! Go! And when you get home to Berlin, then say to my father's
Austrian minister, that I shall never forgive him for what he has this day
done to me, and that the Elector Frederick William will avenge the
Electoral Prince. Tell him that I shall never accept an Austrian
archduchess, a Catholic, as my wife--never become the humble slave of the
Emperor of Germany. This is my farewell!"

And with flaming countenance and eyes flashing with energy and passion,
the Prince crossed the apartment, violently pulled open the door, and
strode out. Leuchtmar looked after him with a mixture of tenderness and
grief. "How angry he was, and yet how glorious to look upon!" he said
softly to himself. "A young hero, who one day will perform his vow. He
will not bow down as the vassal of the German Emperor!"

A side door was just now easily and cautiously opened, and an older man of
venerable aspect, in simple court garb, timidly entered, looking carefully
around, as if he dreaded finding some one else in the apartment.

"Baron, for heaven's sake, what has happened here?" he asked anxiously.
"The Electoral Prince has been talking so loudly and so angrily that they
heard him all through the house, and now he has stormed out and shouted to
have his horse saddled. Almighty God! what has happened?"

Baron Leuchtmar laid his hand upon his friend's arm, and nodded kindly to
him. "My dear Mueller," he said, with a faint smile, "nothing more has
happened than that the Electoral Prince has just dismissed me in anger,
and sent me home to Berlin."

"For pity's sake, what is that you say?" asked the private secretary,
clasping his trembling hands together in painful astonishment. "He has
been so ungrateful as to thrust from him his best and truest friend?"

"I tell you yes, my dear Mueller, he has done so, and in wrath. You know
well that hastiness of temper is an heirloom of the Brandenburg princes,
and Frederick William can not deny that he has the family failing. Yes,
he has dismissed me; but then, you know, it was perfectly natural, for he
loves the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine, and I ventured to criticise her."

"It is actually true, then, that he loves her? He has allowed himself to
be enticed by the siren! Ah! she is the genuine grandchild of Mary Stuart,
and knows how to charm."

"Hush, Mueller, hush! If the Electoral Prince hears that, he will send you
to the devil too!"

"He may do so," cried the old gentleman indignantly. "If he drives you
away, his tutor and his best friend, then I shall reckon it an honor to be
sent away likewise."

"Well, well my friend, be not so desperate. We know our dear Electoral
Prince. He is a lion when angry, a child when his anger is appeased. Let
us wait; to-day I shall conceal myself from him, and to-morrow, well,
to-morrow he will call for me himself. But did you not say that he had
given orders for his horse to be saddled?"

"Yes, indeed, I heard it myself how he commanded them in angry voice to
saddle Maurus for him--the wild hunter, you know."

"Where can he be going so early in the morning?" asked Leuchtmar
thoughtfully. "He is so much excited, and love of the Princess will lead
him to some rash, ill-advised step; for you are right, friend, she is a
siren! But hark! Is not that the voice of the Electoral Prince?"

"Yes, it is indeed. He is below in the court!"

The two men hastened through the apartment to one of the windows, and,
hiding themselves behind the curtains, looked cautiously down into the
court. The Electoral Prince had just swung himself into the saddle. The
horse gave a loud neigh, as if recognizing its master, then reared, but
the Prince sat firm. His short, furred mantle was lifted high by the wind,
the long white ostrich plumes nodded above his broad-brimmed, gold-laced
hat, beneath which floated like a lion's mane his brown and curly hair.
With firm, energetic hand the youth compelled the animal to stand, then
pressed his knees into its flanks, and swift as an arrow from the bow the
animal flew out of the court gate. Both gentlemen stepped back from the
window.

"He is a splendid young man," sighed the private secretary Mueller, shaking
his head.

"Yes," echoed Leuchtmar, smiling, "I find it very comprehensible that the
Princess Ludovicka should gladly have him as consort. But we must not
submit to it, but do everything to prevent it, for it is contrary to
policy and reasons of state. And I think, too, such an union would not be
for the Prince's welfare, for the Princess--But hush! the Electoral Prince
has forbidden me to speak evil of her, and we are here in his room. Let us
keep silence with regard to her."

"But where can he be rushing to now--the Electoral Prince, I mean?"

"I fear that I can guess. To her, to the Princess, and to apologize to her
with his looks for the injury which my words have done her. He is just an
enthusiastic youth, and it is his first love! Believe me, he is hurrying
to her!"




IV.--AN IDYL.


Yes, Leuchtmar was quite right. He was away to her--to Ludovicka. To her
he was irresistibly drawn by vehement desire. Yes, she was his first love,
and the magic of this delicious sensation held his whole being enthralled,
and now drove him onward as on the wings of the hurricane. He thought of
nothing and knew nothing but that he must see her, must prove to her how
passionately he loved her, how fervently and devoutly he believed in her.
The horse dashed on furiously, breathlessly, and yet it seemed to the
Electoral Prince as if an eternity had elapsed ere he finally reached
Castle Doornward. He breathed a glad sigh of relief, threw the reins to
the promptly advancing servants, and vaulted from the horse. His beaming
eyes were uplifted to his beloved's window, and he saluted her with his
thoughts and his smile. He thought she must feel it, and his looks and
thoughts must bring her to the window. He stopped and looked up--but
Ludovicka did not appear at the window; only an orange-colored ribbon was
fluttering there in the sunshine and the wind, and Frederick William
smiled joyfully, for he took it as a token of good fortune. Then he
entered the castle, reverentially greeted by the lackeys, who ventured
not to oppose him, as with rapid bounds, like a young deer, he sprang up
the steps. Straight to the apartments of the Princess Ludovicka he strode,
through the antechamber into the drawing room. But she was not there; she
came not to meet him in her enchanting beauty, with that affectionate
smile upon her crimson lips. No, Ludovicka was not there, and the
chambermaid who officiously hurried from the adjoining room informed the
Prince that her most gracious young lady had already been gone an hour on
a visit to The Hague, whence she would not return till the next morning.
But the sharp, cunning eyes of the Abigail, had meanwhile peered through
the door, which the Prince had left open, out into the antechamber, and,
finding that no one was there, the Prince having come quite alone, she
approached nearer to him.

"Most gracious sir," she whispered, "I was, however, to have gone into
town and handed something for the Electoral Prince to his valet, to whom I
am engaged."

"Now it will be more convenient for you, Alice," said the Electoral Prince
cheerfully. "You need no third party. I am here myself. Give to me
personally what you would have given to my valet, your respected
betrothed, for me."

"Here it is," whispered Alice, drawing from the pocket attached to her
girdle by a silver chain a little note, which, with a graceful bow, she
handed to the Prince.

"And here is your reward," he said, taking a gold piece from his purse
and handing it to her. She took it, blushing with confusion, and bowed
down to the earth.

"If it pleases your grace to read here," whispered she, "I will guard the
door."

He shook his head and rushed out. No, not in that narrow, close room, not
in the neighborhood of that tiresome chambermaid could be read the letter
of his beloved--that letter which he believed, nay, knew, contained the
last decision for sealing his whole future fate. In the open air, under
God's blue sky, in the warm and radiant autumn sun, would he receive the
message of his beloved, would he take to his heart what the angel of his
life had to communicate to him. As rapidly as he had stormed up he again
sprang down the steps, and through the well-known rooms and corridors took
the way leading to the park. He was well acquainted with it, for he had
often taken it at the side of his aunt, the unfortunate Bohemian Queen and
Electress, who had found a refuge here in Holland at the court of her
uncle, the Stadtholder Frederick Henry of Orange, and had her little
residence at Castle Doornward. He had often walked it with the princesses,
her daughters, and very bright and pleasant hours had he passed in that
beautiful park with Princess Ludovicka.

On one of those squares, in one of those shady thickets where he had so
often sat with her and her sisters, he would now read her message. With
hasty step, with glowing cheeks fired by enthusiasm, with head aloft, he
strode on, and now entered the woods near the path. They were curtained by
festoons of wild grapevine; no one could see how he now took out the
little note which he had so long concealed in his hand, how he pressed it
to his lips, to his eyes, how he then unfolded it, and again, before
reading it, pressed the beloved characters to his lips. The letter
contained nothing but the words: "The friends are ready and willing.
To-night about one o'clock in the Media Nocte. From there flight. A worthy
asylum is waiting, and the priest stands before the altar to bless the
couple."

"To-night she will be mine--to-night we shall be married! To-night we
shall make our escape!"

He could think of nothing but this. His heart continually repeated it with
loud jubilation, his lips murmured it softly in response, while, knowing
nothing, seeing nothing of the outside world, he sped along through the
alleys and over the squares of the garden. He knew not whither he went, he
had no aim; he only knew that to-night he was to be indissolubly united
with his beloved--that he would flee with her. Once he must pause, for the
loudly beating heart denied him breath, and once, in the blissful rapture
of his soul, he must give a loud shout of joy, otherwise his breast would
have burst. A merry, musical laugh rang forth near to him, and as he
turned to the side whence the sound had proceeded a lovely and pleasing
picture met his astonished gaze. In the midst of the grassplot near which
he was stood a great white cow, one of those splendid creatures that are
only seen on Dutch pastures. A fine-looking maid, dressed in the national
costume of the Dutch peasantry, with the gold-edged cap over the full,
luxuriant hair that fell in long braids down her back, sat on a stool
beside the cow, and was busied in milking. In melodious, regular cadence
the steaming milk flowed over her rosy hands down into the white porcelain
bucket which she held between her knees. At her side stood a little girl,
in almost the identical costume, only that the wide plaited skirt was of
black silk, the bodice of purple velvet trimmed with gold buttons and
loops, and the white apron of finest linen edged with point lace. Below
the short silk skirt, trimmed with purple velvet, peeped forth blue silk
stockings with red tops; shoes with high red heels, ornamented with gold
buckles, covered the neat little feet. It was altogether quite the costume
of a Dutch peasant girl, only the cap was wanting on the head, and in its
stead the hair, which fell in long fair ringlets over the child's
shoulders, was adorned by a thick wreath of the tendrils of the wild
grape, into which, in front just over the brow, were woven two beautiful
purple asters. She had been busied, it appeared from the quantity of
leaves and flowers she carried in her apron, in weaving wreaths, but now
let the contents of her apron fall to the ground, and only kept the green
wreath already finished, which hung upon her arm, while she sprang
laughing over the grassplot.

"Cousin Frederick William," she asked merrily, "where do you come from,
and why do you scream so fearfully?"

"Have I frightened you, Cousin Louisa Henrietta?" he asked, extending both
hands to her in greeting.

"Not me, cousin, but Hulda," she returned, holding out her little hands.
"You must know, cousin, Hulda is very scary, and it comes from her being
sad."

"Who is Hulda? The smart dairymaid there?"

"Hey, God forbid, cousin! How can you think that dairymaid could be
scared? No, Hulda is my pretty white cow, and she is sad because she has
lost her little calf. I am not to blame for it, and I told my poor Hulda
that, too, and as she lowed so piteously I wept with her heartily and
comforted her."

"But why did you let them take away her little calf? Why did you suffer
it? Is it not your own cow?"

"Understand, it is my own cow," replied the little girl, seriously. "My
good aunt, the Electress, has made me a present of it, that I may have
some pleasure when I come here to Doornward, and it makes me feel as if I
were at home. For you must know, cousin, that I have a regular dairy at
The Hague."

"No, cousin, I did not know it," said the Electoral Prince, while he
looked kindly into the lovely, rosy countenance of the little Princess
Louisa Henrietta of Orange.

"You do not know that?" she cried, clapping her little hands together in
astonishment. "Yes, I have a dairy--three cows, who belong to myself
alone, and for which papa has had built a stable of their own, which is
very grand and splendid. And next to the stable is a room for the milk and
butter. O cousin! I tell you, it is splendid! The next time you come to us
at The Hague, send for me, and I will show you my cows in their stable,
and if you are right good, you shall have a glass of milk from my favorite
cow."

"Many thanks!" cried the Electoral Prince, laughing. "But I am no friend
of warm milk, and understand nothing whatever of farming."

"Well, why should you?" said the Princess gravely. "You are a man, and men
have something else to do; they must go to war and govern countries. But
women must understand management and know how to keep house."

"So? Must they that?" laughed the Prince. "Common women, indeed, but you,
Louisa, you are a Princess."

"But a Princess of Holland, cousin, and my mother has told me that the
Princesses of Holland must seek their greatest renown in becoming wise and
prudent housewives, and understanding farming thoroughly, in order that
all the rest of the women of Holland may learn from them. My mother says
that a Prince of Holland should be the first servant of the Sovereign
States, but a Princess of Holland should be the first housekeeper of the
Dutch people, and the more skillful she is the more will the people love
her. And therefore I shall try to be right skillful, for I shall be so
glad if our good people would love me a little."

"Would you, indeed?" asked the Electoral Prince, quite moved by the lovely
countenance and the heartfelt tone of the little girl. "Would you be glad
if the people loved you a little? Well, I promise you, Cousin Louisa
Henrietta, they will love you, and whoever shall look into your good,
truthful eyes will feel himself fortunate and glad, just as I do now. Keep
your beautiful eyes, Louisa, and your innocence and harmlessness, and be a
good housewife, then your people will love you very much. But tell me,
cousin, for whom is that wreath which is hanging on your arm?"

"For my beautiful cow; but if you will have it I will give it to you,
and--no," she broke off, abashed and reddening, "no, forgive me, dear
Cousin Frederick William; I shall not give you a wreath which I destined
only for an animal. I shall fix it so," she cried, with a lovely smile, "I
shall take this wreath to my Hulda, and to you, cousin, I shall give my
own wreath."

She hastily tore the wreath from her own locks, and raising herself on
tiptoe tried with uplifted arm to place it on the Prince's head, but he
stayed her hand.

"No, cousin," he said; "that must be done properly. You are a lady, a
Princess, and if you crown a knight, then let him bow the knee before
you."

And he bent his knee before her, and looked up at her smilingly and
joyously. "Crown me, Cousin Louisa Henrietta," he said, with ceremonial
pathos--"crown me and give me a device."

The little maiden held the crown thoughtfully in her hand, her large blue
eyes fixed upon the smiling countenance before her with an earnest,
meditative expression.

"Well," he said, "why do you not give me the wreath? And what are you
thinking of?"

"Of a motto, cousin," she replied seriously; "for you told me I must give
you a device. But I am only a silly little girl, and you must bear with
me. Mother said yesterday to me that the best motto she could give for
everyday use is this, 'Be a good woman.' Now I think, if it were rightly
changed and turned, it would suit you."

And with charming determination she pressed the wreath upon the Prince's
dark locks, and then laid both her hands upon his head.

"Be a good man," she said, "yes, Electoral Prince Frederick William, be a
good man."

The smile had suddenly vanished from the Prince's countenance, and given
place to a deep earnestness. "Yes," he said solemnly, "I promise you I
shall be a good man." And just as he said this the cow bellowed aloud, and
Princess Louisa turned her looks upon her and nodded pleasantly.

"Look you, cousin," she said, "Hulda, too, gives you her blessing, and do
not laugh at it, for God speaks in all that live; the flowers and beasts
emanate from him as well as men. And if man does not do his duty, and is
not good and diligent, then God does not love him, and the flower which
blooms and the cow that gives milk are dearer to him, for they do their
duty. But see, the milkmaid is ready, and now, Cousin Frederick William,
now I must go to the milkroom and measure the milk into the pans, and I
will tell you, but nobody else shall know, I secretly take a quart cup
full of milk, and take it to the calves' stable to the calf, from my
Hulda. It ought not, indeed, to drink milk any longer, but be an
independent creature, eating hay and chewing the cud, but it will just
feel that the milk comes from its own mother, and be glad. Farewell,
Cousin Frederick William, I must be gone."

She was about to slip away, but the Electoral Prince held her fast. "No,"
he said, "not so cursory shall be our leave-taking, my darling little
heavenly flower. Who knows when we shall meet again?"

"You are not going away yet, cousin?" she asked, stroking his cheeks with
both her little hands. "Ah! they told me that your father would by no
means allow you to remain here any longer, and I was so sorry that it made
me cry."

"Why did it make you sorry, Cousin Louisa?" asked the Electoral Prince,
drawing the little maiden to himself.

She leaned her little head upon his shoulder. "I do not know," she said,
looking at him with her great blue eyes. "I believe I love you so much
because you are always so good and friendly to me, and have often talked
and played with me, and not laughed at me when I told you about my
animals. I thank you for it, my dear, good cousin, and I shall love you
as long as I live."

"And I, my dear, good cousin, I thank you for the motto which you have
given me, and I shall think of it and of you as long as I live. Yes, my
dear child, I will be a good man, and do you know, little Louisa," he
continued, smiling, "whenever I am in trouble and danger, I shall think
of you and pray, 'God and all ye innocent angels on high, have pity on the
innocent and good! Amen!'"

He pressed a fervent kiss on the child's forehead, nodded smilingly to
her, took the wreath from his head to conceal it in his bosom, and then
strode away with light, quick steps. The child looked thoughtfully after
him with her large blue starry eyes, as if lost in thought, until the
slender, athletic form of the young man had vanished behind the trees.
"How does he know my prayer?" she whispered softly, "and why did he smile
as he repeated it? Ah! surely Cousin Ludovicka has told him what a timid
little coward I was last night. But hark! Hulda is lowing. Yes, yes, I am
coming now!"

And the little girl flew across the grassplot, and flung both her arms
around the animal's neck, and stroked and coaxed it, calling it pet names,
and telling it of its beautiful calf, to which she would forthwith carry
some milk. And the cow lowed no more, but looked with its big intelligent
eyes into the child's face.




V.--MEDIA NOCTE.


"The gods have come down from Olympus! The gods greet the earth! They
greet beauty! They greet youth! They greet wisdom and the arts! The gods
greet the earth! Long live the gods! Live Venus, the mother of love! Long
live Minerva, the unapproachable virgin, full of wisdom! Long live Zeus,
the god of gods, men transformed into gods, and gods into men! Olympus
live on earth!"

So sang they and rejoiced in triumphant chorus, and high above from the
clouds pealed forth music, and from thicket and shrubbery sounded sweet
songs, dying away in gentle whispers. Then all was still, for the gods,
who had traversed the halls in dazzling procession, had now taken their
places at the long rose-crowned tables. An Olympic festival was being
solemnized that evening in the Media Nocte. Earth was forsaken now, and
the children of earth found themselves again on Olympus, changed to gods.
Those were not the drawing rooms in which they had been wont to assemble,
commingling in cheerful pastimes, in hilarious merriment, these people
clad in light Greek robes. No, this was cloud-capped Olympus, this was
heaven upon earth; rose-colored, luminous clouds encircled the space, and
behind them the galleries which ran round the hall had vanished. Instead
of the ceiling usually bounding this vast room, they now looked up to the
deep blue sky, and star after star twinkled there, and filled the
apartment with soft mild light. And not in a hall furnished with chairs
and divans did they find themselves this evening, but in a monstrous
grotto in the heart of Olympus--a grotto of sparkling, glittering mountain
crystal, bright and transparent as silver gauze, and behind this a magical
moving to and fro of beauteous human shapes, of genii and Cupids. Only the
long table in the middle of the grotto reminded of earth, or maybe the
home of heathen gods.

For, like the children of earth, the gods on Olympus used to carouse and
drink, and, like the children of men, did they enjoy fullness of food and
luscious wine. Golden goblets, wreathed with roses, stood before the
silver plates loaded with fruits and tempting viands. In crystal flasks
sparkled the golden wine, in silver vases the gay-colored flowers exhaled
their sweets. Luxurious cushions, soft as swan's down, spangled and
silvery as were the clouds which stooped from heaven, lined both sides of
the long table, and on them the gods and goddesses had just sank in
blissful silence, gazing on the glorious place, and rejoicing that men are
gods and gods are men! There, on high, sits Zeus on golden throne, and
Ganymede, the beautiful boy, stands near and hands him on golden dishes
the fragrant ambrosia, and Hebe, the lovely, childlike maid, hovers about,
and presents in crystal cups the gleaming purple wine, glistening like
gold. Juno, the radiant queen of heaven, sits beside Zeus; and as if woven
of silvery clouds and stars seems the garment that lightly and loosely
envelops but does not hide the wondrous shape. A light cloud of silver
gauze covers her countenance, as that of all the other goddesses.

But now, as all rest in silence, these gods and goddesses, now rises Zeus
from his golden throne and bows to both sides, greeting.

"At the table of the gods must be enthroned Truth, the purest, most chaste
of all the goddesses, and at her side the wisest, most puissant Genius,
the Genius of Silence!" calls out Zeus, with far-resounding voice. "Do you
admit that, ye gods and goddesses?"

"We admit it!" call out all in exulting chorus.

"You gods, swear by all that is sacred to you in heaven and upon earth
that you will present this evening as a thank offering in sacrifice to the
Genius of Silence! That never will pass your lips what your eyes see,
never will your eyes betray the memory that shall dwell within your
hearts!"

"We swear it by all that is sacred in heaven and upon earth!" cry the
gods.

"Ye goddesses all, ye have heard!" cries Zeus, the enthroned. "Now do
homage to Truth, as she to the Genius of Silence! Away with falsehood and
deceit! Away with your masks!"

And the plump, wanton arms of the goddesses are raised, and the
rosy-fingered hands tear the silvery veils from their heads and cast them
triumphantly behind them, and triumphantly the gods greet the beaming
countenances of the goddesses, their sparkling eyes and rosy lips, the
haunts of sweet, seductive smiles.

"Long live the gods and goddesses of Olympus! No earthly memories cleave
to them; if perchance they have borne earthly names, who knows it, who
remembers it? The present only belongs to the gods--this hour is one of
precious joy."

Only those two sitting there at the table of the gods, arm linked in arm,
only they remember, for not alone the present but the future, too, belongs
to them. The gods and goddesses call the two Venus and Endymion, but they,
in tender whispers, call each other Ludovicka and Frederick. No one
disturbs himself about them, no one notices the happy pair, and they
observe and regard no one, for they are thinking only of themselves.

"Oh, my beloved," whispers the Prince, "how stale and insipid seems this
fantastic feast to me to-night! Once it would have charmed me, and would
have been to me as embodied poesy. But to-night it leaves me cold and
empty, and I feel that the true and real contain in themselves the highest
poetry."

"You are indeed right, my Endymion," says she softly--"you are indeed
right: love is the highest poetry, and he who possesses the true and real
needs not the fantastic semblance. Still, this is a feast of gods;
therefore let us enjoy it with glad hearts and swelling joy. For is it not
our wedding feast, and are not all these gods and goddesses unwittingly
solemnizing the hymeneal of our love? Rejoice then, my darling, rejoice
and sing with the convivial, open your heart to the ravishing hour, drink
into thy soul the delight and rapture of the gods!"

A shadow stole over Endymion's high, clear brow, and he gently shook his
head. "I love you so deeply and truly that I can not be merry in this
hour," he said thoughtfully; "and this wild tumult and this uproarious joy
seem not to me like a glorification of our love, but rather its
profanation. Ah! my dear love, would that I were alone with you in the
open air, beneath the broad high arch of heaven, instead of here beneath
this artificial one; would that we sat hand in hand in one of those quiet
shady spots in your park, where I could pour into your ear the holy
secrets of my heart and tell you sweet stories of our love, and you should
listen to me with tranquil, reverent heart, and you and I would solemnize
together a glorious feast divine, more glorious than this mad joy can
furnish us! He who is happy flees noisy pleasures, and he who loves
ardently and truthfully longs for quiet and solitude, to meditate upon his
love."

"We shall be solitary and alone, my Frederick, when we belong to one
another--when nothing more can separate us, when we shall no more have to
meet under the veil of secrecy, no more have to conceal the fair, divine
reality under borrowed tinsel! You know, love, to-night we flee."

"God be praised! to-night will make you forever mine, and nothing then can
separate us but death alone!"

"Speak not of death while life encircles us with all its charms! Be
cheerful, my beloved--be happy, my Endymion. We celebrate the godly feast
of love, and yet is it only the foretaste of our bliss. Yield yourself to
the delights of the moment, drink from the golden goblet of joy, my
Endymion!"

"Yes, I will drink, drink, for Venus drinks with me."

"She hands you, Endymion, the flower-crowned goblet! Drink! drink! drink!
Enjoy the moment! Taste the pleasures of this hour! But think of the
coming hour which is to consummate our bliss!"

"When will it be, beloved? And where shall I meet you?"

"When all is bustle and stir and singing, then let my Endymion descend
from Olympus and repair to the grotto of rocks close by. To the left of
the entrance he will find a cavern. Let him go in and there find his white
garments; put them on and wait. All the rest follows of itself."

"And you, my heart--will you, too, follow of yourself?"

"Follow of myself and fetch Endymion!"

Music sent forth sweet strains, and from the rosy clouds the chorus of
Cupids greeted the gods with songs of rejoicing.

After the singing the Muses entered, winding round the table, quoting
far-famed songs and praising the arts, which they protected. And suddenly
the starry sky above became obscure, and twilight reigned. Only behind the
crystalline walls it shone bright and ever brighter, and in sunshine
splendor emerged the antique marble statues of the gods, and walked and
moved, endowed with flesh and growing life. Music resounded and bands of
Cupids sang; again the hall was lighted up, the tables at which the gods
had reclined vanished, geniuses hovered about, strewing the ground with
fragrant flowers, and in glad confusion mingled gods and goddesses, heroes
and demigods, with sparkling eyes and beating hearts. They poetized and
sang, praised the gods, and laughed and shouted, "Long live the Media
Nocte! Long live those great minds and noble hearts which belong to it!"
And all was bustle, stir, and song!

Endymion forsook Olympus, entered the nearest grotto amid the rocks, and
slipped into the little cavern to the left. Venus was still in the hall.
To her came Hercules and softly whispered, "All is ready!"

"But where? Tell me, where? It seems to me like a dream! You see how I
trust you, for without question have I done everything just as the paper
directed. Here I am, in the Media Nocte, and know not at all what remains
to be done!"

"The marriage ceremony and flight, fair Venus! Listen, however, to this
one thing! In close proximity to this house, as you well know, stands the
hotel of the French embassy. Well, gracious lady, walls can be leveled,
and my enchanter Ducato can turn them into doors! Repair to the grotto
hall and the cavern on the right. There will Venus be transformed into the
Princess Ludovicka, and still be Venus! Then cross over to the cavern on
the left, where, instead of Endymion, waits the Electoral Prince. She
gives him her hand! My enchanter Ducato sees it, and all the rest takes
care of itself. Only follow the god within your own breast! Only one thing
more, Princess! Be Venus to him, and ravish his heart and soul, that he
may not delay to sign the contract and inquire into its contents."

"Be not uneasy," smiles Venus proudly; "he will sign anything to be able
to call me his."

Louder resound the peals of music, and all the gods sing and laugh and
jest and shout. And the Bacchantes swing to and fro their ivy-wreathed
staves, and their mouths with ecstasy pour forth their stammering songs of
mirth! Venus has soared away! But no one observes it. Each is his own
deity, here in the Media Nocte. Oh, blessed night of the gods! Forget that
the wretched day of man will return in the morning! Louder resound the
strains of music, and all is bustle, stir, and song there in Olympus!

From the cavern on the right steps forth the Princess Ludovicka in white
satin robe, a myrtle wreath twined in her hair, and behind her sweeps her
veil like a silver cloud. Venus! Venus ever! full of sweet enchantment!

She goes to the cavern on the left, and gently knocks. The door springs
open, and she enters. It is bright within, and the Electoral Prince, in
gold-embroidered suit, comes to meet her with beaming eyes, looks upon her
radiant with happiness, and sinks down at her feet. Endymion! Endymion
ever! Enchained by sweet magic! A door flies open; nobody has opened it,
but there it is. The Electoral Prince jumps up and offers the Princess his
hand. Neither of the two speaks, for their hearts are beating overloud.

The merry music and uproarious shouts of the gods on Olympus penetrate to
them even in the stillness of the cave, but through the open door other
sounds steal near. Solemn, long-drawn organ peals are heard, uniting in
the melody of a pious choral. How strangely blended within that narrow
space those exultant songs and those organ tones! The young lovers hear
only the notes of the organ, and hand in hand move toward the sound.

A small pleasure boat receives them, flowers and myrtle trees line the
banks, and inviting and alluring the organ calls them. Light glimmers at
the end of the passage, and the lovers go toward it. They enter a large
wide room! Solemn silence reigns here. At the farther end is a small
altar. On it burn tall wax tapers, and before it, in full canonicals,
stands the priest, prayer book in hand. At his sides are two gentlemen
in simple, somber dress.

Farther forward, nearer the center of the hall, is a table hung with
green, on which lie several papers and implements of writing, and near it
is a notary in his official garb, again attended by several men. To all
this Prince Frederick William gives but one brief glance, then turns his
eyes once more upon his beloved, standing at his side, radiant in beauty
and enticingly sweet. The jubilant songs of Olympus yet ring in their
ears, the images of the gods yet flame and flaunt before their eyes.

"How beautiful you are, beloved Ludovicka! My Electoral Princess! come,
let us go to the altar! Oh, your good, kind friends! How I thank them! How
well they have arranged everything! Come! You see, the priest is waiting!"

"Not yet, beloved! For you see before the priest stands the notary, and my
good friends will have us go through all the formalities of legal
marriage. Before we are married we must sign the contract!"

"The contract of love is written in our hearts alone. What need for the
intervention of signatures on paper? And how can strangers know what we
alone can settle with one another? I swear unswerving love and fidelity to
my Electoral Princess, and that requires no written confirmation. Come to
the altar, dearest!"

He endeavors to draw her forward, but Ludovicka flings her arm about his
neck and holds him back. "Beloved," she whispers, "the contract which we
sign concerns not us, but the benevolent, mighty friends, who have lent us
their aid, and will help us still further. Ah! without these noble friends
our flight would have been wholly impossible, and we would have been
separated for ever! To-morrow I would have been the bride of the Prince of
Hesse, and your father would already have found means to compel your
return home. Ah! beloved, they would have separated us, if our noble
friends had not helped us. They have prepared everything, cared for
everything. As soon as we are married, we shall journey away to our safe
asylum, and there, under the protection of friends, be sheltered and
secure. For such love and devotion we must be grateful, must we not?"

"Certainly, that we must, and shall be gladly, beloved of my heart! Let
them say how we can prove our gratitude, and certainly it shall be done!"

"They have said it, and written it down in the contract. Come, dearest, we
will sign it, and then to the altar."

She throws her arm around his neck, she draws him to the table where
stands the notary with his witnesses. She hands him the pen and looks at
him with a sweet smile.

Venus! Venus ever!

But he? He is no longer Endymion! He is the Electoral Prince Frederick
William! And strange! like a dream, like a greeting from afar, conies
stealing to his ears, "Be a good man."

"Take the pen and sign!" whispers Venus, with glowing looks of love.

He lays down the pen. "I must know what I sign. Read it, Sir Notary!"

The notary bows low and reads: "In friendship and devotion to the
Electoral Prince Frederick William of Brandenburg and his spouse, born
Princess Ludovicka Hollandine of the Palatinate, we grant them an
undisturbed asylum in our territories, promise to protect and defend them
with all our power, to grant them, besides, maintenance and support,
paying to the Electoral Prince of Brandenburg yearly subsidies of three
hundred thousand livres, until he assumes the reins of government. On his
side, the Electoral Prince of Brandenburg pledges himself, so soon as he
begins to rule in his own right, to conclude a league with us for twenty
years, and never to unite with our enemies against us, but to be true to
us in good as also in evil days. Both parties confirm this by their
signatures. Count d'Entragues has signed in the name of France."

"France!" cried the Electoral Prince, with loudly ringing voice. "France
is the friend who will lend us aid?"

"Yes, Prince, France it is," said Count d'Entragues, approaching the
Prince and bowing low before him. "France through me offers to the noble
Electoral Prince of Brandenburg protection and an asylum, pays him rich
subsidies, and in return requires nothing but his alliance, and, above all
things, his friendship. I am happy to offer the friendship and good
offices of King Louis XIII and Cardinal Richelieu to the Electoral Prince
of Brandenburg and his spouse, and to be permitted to witness the ceremony
of their marriage."

"Come, my beloved, sign," whispered Ludovicka, with pleading voice.

But he thrust back the pen, and looked at the Princess with flaming eyes.
"Did you know, Princess, that it was France who was to assist us?"

"Certainly I knew it," replied she, with feigned astonishment. "Count
d'Entragues himself offered me the assistance of France, and you gave me
full powers to conclude all arrangements."

"It is true, so I did," murmured the Prince. "I thought you had reference
to a private person, to one of those rich mynheers whom I have met at your
house. I told you so, Princess, and you did not contradict me. You left me
under the impression that it was a merchant of Holland who was offering
his help and protection. From a private citizen I could have accepted aid,
for that pledged the man, not the Prince. But from France I can accept no
favors, for by such would be pledged and bound the Prince, the future
ruler of his land, so that he could not act freely according to his
judgment and the requirements of the case, but be subjected to restraint.
Sir Count d'Entragues, I shall not sign."

The Princess uttered a shriek and threw both her arms, round him. "If you
are serious in that, beloved, then are we lost, for who will help us if
France will not?"

"God and ourselves, Ludovicka!"

"God listens not to our entreaties, and we are too weak to help ourselves.
Oh, my beloved, prove now that you love me--that your vows are true. I am
lost to you and you to me if we do not escape to-night--lost if we accept
not France's aid. Look, here is the sheet of paper; our whole future lies
on it. I offer it to you, beloved, and with it my life, my love, my
happiness. Will you scorn me?"

She held out to him both her trembling hands, and looked at him with
glances of entreaty. He returned the look, and a deadly paleness
overspread his face. He took the sheet of paper from her hands--she opened
her mouth for a cry of joy--then a shrill, rasping sound--he had torn the
paper in two, and both pieces fell slowly to the ground.

"That is my answer, so help me God! I can do no otherwise."

A cry sounded from Ludovicka's lips, but it was a cry of horror. She
reeled back, as if a fearful blow had struck her, and stared at the Prince
with wide-open eyes.

"You reject me with disdain?" she asked in a toneless voice. "You will not
flee with me?"

He rushed toward her, cast himself upon his knees before her, kissing her
dress and hands with passionate ardor.

"Forgive me, Ludovicka, forgive me! I can not act differently. I can not
be a traitor to my country, to my father, to Germany. I can not listen to
my heart, with regard to my future, for my future belongs to my people,
my native land, not to myself alone. Go home, beloved; be steadfast and
courageous, as I shall be, and then we shall conquer destiny itself and
win victory for our love."

"Stand up, Electoral Prince of Brandenburg!" she cried imperiously, and
with angry glance. "Now answer me, will you accept the help of France, and
flee with me?"

He turned away from her with a deep sigh. "No, I shall not accept the help
of France."

"Count d'Entragues," said the Princess, with shrill, quivering voice, "you
are a gentleman; I place myself under your protection. You will
immediately conduct me to Doornward."

The count hastened to her and offered her his hand. She accepted it, and
he led her slowly through the vast hall to one of the doors of entrance.

The Electoral Prince looked after her with distorted features and burning
eyes. Once he made a movement as if to rush after her, but by a mighty
effort he kept his place. Arrived at the door, she paused and turned upon
him an earnest, questioning glance; he cast down his eyes before it. Count
d'Entragues opened the door--a breathless pause ensued--then the door
closed behind her.

The Electoral Prince placed his trembling hand upon his heart, and two
tears rolled from his eyes. Violently he shook them away, and turned his
head to the notary.

"Sir," he said, in a firm voice--"sir, I beg you to show me the way out. I
would go to my palace."




VI.--THE HARDEST VICTORY.


The Electoral Prince had returned home, but he did not sleep the whole
night through. The chamberlain, whose room adjoined the Prince's sleeping
apartment, had heard him restlessly pacing the floor all night long, at
times talking to himself half aloud, and then even weeping and lamenting.
In his anguish of heart he had wakened Baron Leuchtmar and the private
secretary Mueller, in order to impart to them the melancholy news. Both
gentlemen had immediately risen and dressed themselves, and softly
approached the door of the princely chamber. They, too, had heard the
restless steps, the loud groans and lamentations of the Prince, and his
grief had passed into their own hearts. As they looked at each other, each
observed tears in the eyes of the other, and with quivering lips both
whispered, "Poor young man! he must have some great grief! He suffers a
great deal!"

"You must go to him, Leuchtmar," whispered Mueller. "You must ask what ails
him, and try to comfort him."

The baron mournfully shook his head. "My dear Mueller," he said, "have you
ever been in love?"

"No, never!" replied Mueller, in astonishment. "Why do you ask such a
question?"

"Because you would then know, friend, that there is no consolation for
disappointment in love."

"You think, then, that the Prince is disappointed in love?"

"Certainly, I think so. What other grief can a young Prince of hardly
eighteen years have, especially when his heart is engrossed with a glowing
passion. The Prince was last night in the Media Nocte, and something
peculiar must have occurred there, for he came home unusually early, his
custom having been of late not to return home until daybreak, singing and
rejoicing."

"Only hear, Leuchtmar, how he sobs and groans! And now! Hush! what does he
say?"

Both gentlemen held their breath, and quite distinctly could be heard
within the wailing, tear-choked voice of the Prince:

"It is impossible--it is impossible. I can not. No, I can not. The
sacrifice is too heavy! My heart will break!"

"Hear him well," whispered Mueller, amid his tears; "he can not make the
sacrifice. He will die of grief. My God! go to him, baron. Tell him he
need not make the sacrifice. No one can require of him the impossible. Go
to him, man! Be humane. My God! only hear how he laments and groans!"

"I hear it, but I can not go in. I do not know his sorrow, and if the
Prince needs me he can call me."

"You are a savage," said Mueller desperately. "Well, if you will not
comfort him, then shall I go to him."

He stretched out his hand for the door knob, but Baron Leuchtmar held him
back, and led the good private secretary back to his own room.

"Let us go to bed, friend," he said; "even if we can not sleep, as is
probable, yet we can rest, which is needful for our aged limbs. We can not
yet help the Prince; and, believe me, he would never forgive us if we were
to go to him unsummoned, thereby betraying that we have been privy to his
suffering and his pain. He has a grief, there is no question about that;
but he is retiringly modest, and at the same time has a stout heart that
will admit no one to share with him a burden he has perhaps imposed upon
himself. I am glad of this, Mueller, and I tell you such hours of solitary
grief purify the manly heart; in them the old myth is verified, from the
fire and ashes of spent sorrows springs up the new-fledged phoenix. Should
we prevent our Prince from passing through his purgatory, that he may
emerge from the flames as a phoenix and a victorious hero?"

"You may be right," sighed Mueller, "but I only know that he is suffering
bitterly."

Baron Leuchtmar smiled sadly. "May these sufferings steel his heart," he
said, "that he may be armed against greater and bitterer trials! Come,
Mueller, we will to bed, and to sleep."

But, however composedly and resolutely the baron had opposed himself to
the suggestions of his soft-hearted colleague, sleep that night forsook
his eyes, and ever he heard in imagination the Prince's groans and
laments. At times he could hardly repress his longing to get up, to creep
to the Prince's door and listen, that he might discover whether he were
still awake. But the baron forcibly restrained himself, and finally, as
day already began to dawn, he actually fell asleep. He might possibly have
slept a few hours, but his servant approached his couch and roused him.

"Baron," he said, "some one is here who urgently desires to speak to you."

"Who, Frederick, who is there?" asked Baron Leuchtmar, quickly rising.

"The chamberlain, Baron von Marwitz, has arrived from Berlin."

"Marwitz, the Elector's first chamberlain?" cried the baron. "Quick, my
clothes, quick! Help me to dress myself. Run and tell Baron von Marwitz
that I will be at his service directly. But first tell me whether his
highness is already visible. Has he already ordered his breakfast?"

"No, baron, I believe all is still quiet in his highness's apartments."

"God be thanked! God be thanked! Now present my compliments to Baron von
Marwitz, and then come quickly and help me."

Ten minutes later Baron Kalkhun von Leuchtmar entered the Prince's
reception room, where the chamberlain, Baron von Marwitz, awaited him. The
two had a long conversation together, Leuchtmar listening with thoughtful
mien to Marwitz's narration of the state of affairs at home.

"Marwitz," he said, at the close of their conversation, "we have been good
and tried friends from our childhood; I know that the electoral house and
our fatherland lie as near to your heart as to my own, and that I can
trust you. I therefore tell you, you have come at a fortunate hour, and
God sends you! The heart of the Prince is wrung by a mighty sorrow, and he
probably knows no way out of his griefs. You will show him one, and if he
is actually the aspiring and noble-hearted Prince, whom God has sent for
the blessing of his house and the hope of his country, then will he
appreciate this way and walk in it. Go to him now, Marwitz, and lay before
him candidly and without reserve, as you have done before me, the
deplorable condition of things in our native land."

"You will come with me, Leuchtmar, and present me to the Electoral Prince?"

"No, baron. You must suffer yourself to be announced by the chamberlain,
for the Prince dismissed me yesterday in wrath. Hush, my friend! say not a
word, it is not so bad! The heart of the Prince has reached a crisis in
its history which will soon be past, and then, well then, he will call me
of himself again. But I shall wait for that. I can not intrude upon him
now."

"My friend," sighed Marwitz, "I begin to be afraid. If you do not support
me, I will surely fail in my errand, and, like Schlieben, be forced to
return disappointed to Berlin."

"I think not. Only be of good courage and speak boldly, as your heart and
your love of country dictate."

"Is the Electoral Prince already up?" he asked of the man in waiting, and,
as he received nothing but a shrug of the shoulders in reply, Leuchtmar
beckoned to him to come nearer, and retired with him into a recess of one
of the windows.

"Well, what is it, old Dietrich? You have seen the Electoral Prince
already, have you not?"

"Yes, baron. He has not been to bed at all, but still has on the clothes
he wore when he went away last night. He is just as pale as a sheet, and
his eyes which usually shine so gloriously are to-day quite dim. He called
me, and I thought he was about to order breakfast, but no! Something quite
different he wanted, and it struck me as peculiarly strange. The Electoral
Prince asked me who was on duty this week, I or the second valet,
Eberhard? I told him Eberhard, for his week began yesterday. Then said the
Electoral Prince: 'Well, Dietrich, I want you to exchange with him this
time, for I would like to have you to wait upon me this week, and Eberhard
shall have a holiday the whole week. I only want to see your old face
about me!' Is not that strange, Sir Baron? Until yesterday Eberhard stood
in such high favor, and my gracious master always preferred being dressed
by him. Only yesterday evening Eberhard must accompany him to the feast,
and now, all at once, my gracious master will not see him! Something must
have happened, for last night Eberhard came home much later than the
Electoral Prince, and asked, as if bewildered, whether his highness had
been back long; and when I told him that the Electoral Prince had bidden
me change with him, he turned deadly pale, trembled in every limb, and
said, 'It is all over with me!' Baron, something surely happened last
night."

"Probably Eberhard has been guilty of some negligence," said Leuchtmar
carelessly. "He has often been negligent of late, as it seems to me. He
has some love affair on hand, has he not?"

"Yes, Sir Baron, he has gotten in with that artful chambermaid of the
Princess Ludovicka, out there at Doornward, and they are engaged to one
another. But people do not say much good of Madame Alice: she is a cunning
French girl and--"

"Do not trouble yourself about what people say," interrupted the baron.
"Do your own duty and rejoice that for this week the Electoral Prince
gives you the preference over Eberhard. Go, now, and announce to his
highness the chamberlain, Baron von Marwitz, from Berlin."

A few minutes later the gentleman announced entered the Prince's drawing
room. Frederick William advanced into the middle of the room to meet him,
and greeted him with grave courtesy.

"I was expecting you, baron," he said coldly.

"Your highness was expecting me?" asked the baron, astonished. "Your
highness knew already that I would come?"

"Yes, I knew it, baron. My mother's court painter, Gabriel Nietzel,
arrived yesterday, and through him my gracious mother informed me that the
Elector would send you to me with a very serious and angry message. You
see, I am prepared. Deliver your message now, baron. Let us be seated."

The Prince sat down in the armchair and made the baron sit opposite him.
His large eyes were fixed upon Marwitz, and burned with a strange, sad
light. His noble pale countenance was of touching beauty.

"You hesitate?" asked the Prince quietly, after a pause. "What you have to
say to me is, then, very bad?"

"No, your highness, not therefore did I delay," cried the baron, with
feeling. "Your appearance bewildered me, because it pleased me so much. I
have not seen your highness for three years. You were then hardly fifteen
years old, a noble, promising boy, and now I behold you with rapture and
delight, seeing that all our expectations have been fulfilled, and that
out of the boy has grown a strong, noble, and serious young man. Yes,
Prince, I read it in your countenance, your unhappy fatherland, your
unhappy, much-to-be-pitied Brandenburgers, may look with trust and
confidence to the future, for you will save and rescue them."

"Save them from what? Rescue them from what?" asked the Prince, in cold
and measured phrase. "Why do you call my fatherland unhappy, and why do
you say that the Brandenburgers are to be pitied? Is not my fatherland,
for doubtless you do not mean Germany, but my special fatherland, in which
I have been born and reared, is not the Mark Brandenburg now quite happy
and peaceful, as it has been for some years past, since it is again under
the Emperor's protection and favor, in pleasant neutrality between the two
inimical parties? And as to my good Brandenburgers, I can not imagine how
you can call them so much to be pitied when Count Adam von Schwarzenberg
is still Stadtholder in the Mark--Count Adam von Schwarzenberg, who
certainly must have the good of Brandenburg at heart, since he knows how
much my father loves him and trusts to him. He will always show himself
worthy of confidence, I doubt not, and I have the highest respect for my
father's great and wise minister."

"Ah! your highness mistrusts me," cried Marwitz with an expression of
pain. "Your highness takes me for one of Schwarzenberg's adherents."

"No, I take you for what you are, the messenger and emissary of my father,
the Elector of Brandenburg."

"Your highness would thereby say that this messenger and emissary has
consequently received his orders from Count Schwarzenberg, because the
count is really lord of the Mark and the Elector's right hand. I read in
your countenance that you do so, and that therefore you mistrust me. But I
swear to you, Prince, you may believe in my honest, upright
intentions--you may believe that what I say is in solemn earnest."

"I believe it, certainly I believe it," said the Prince. "You have
undertaken the commissions of the Elector and his Minister Schwarzenberg;
naturally you will be in earnest in executing them."

"Prince, I have undertaken the commissions, the behests of the Elector;
but from himself and not from his minister did I obtain them. I have sworn
to execute them, and do you know why?"

"Why? Simply because you are your master's obedient servant."

"No, Prince, because I am a faithful servant of my country, and because I
have a heart to feel for her affliction and distress. The Elector has
commanded me to travel to The Hague, and to convey his strict injunction
to the Electoral Prince that he shall immediately set out and return home
to Berlin. The Elector bids me say to your highness that he has committed
to me five thousand dollars to defray the expenses of your journey back
and for the liquidation of the most pressing debts. Should this sum not
suffice, then am I empowered, in the name of his Electoral Highness, to
give security for the payment of the other debts, and your highness is so
to arrange your journey that your suite may follow in the least expensive
way possible. I was to urge on you seriously and decidedly the propriety
of departure, and your father bids me state to you that he has his own
peculiarly strong reasons for esteeming a further sojourn in Holland
neither safe, profitable, nor reputable. I was to assure your highness
that you were not to be recalled, in order to be forced into a repulsive
marriage. At the same time, the Elector desires that you return
unembarrassed by engagements, and that you by no means entangle yourself
by marriage without his knowledge and consent, for to such a union would
the Elector not agree, nor ratify it."[18]

"Is that all you have to say to me?" asked the Prince, when Marwitz was
silent.

"Prince, it is all I have to say to you in the Elector's name, and I have
herewith executed the commission intrusted to me. But I have something
still to add. I have still to execute the commissions given me by your
future land, by your future subjects. I have to transmit to you the tears
of the wretched, the sighs of the impoverished, the cries of the
despairing, the agonized shriek of all the provinces, all the towns, all
the villages, houses, and huts in the Mark. Prince, from the depth of
their affliction all hearts uplift themselves to you; in the midst of
their despair, the oppressed, the downtrodden, the tormented all venture
to hope in you, and in spirit they kneel before you and with outstretched
hands entreat you, as I do now, 'Pity our distress, future Elector of
Brandenburg, have compassion upon the lands and provinces which shall one
day constitute your state. Turn not a deaf ear to the prayers, the hopes
of your future subjects.'"

Marwitz had sunk upon the floor, and stretched his clasped hands out to
the Prince, who looked thoughtfully into his excited face.

"And what would my future subjects have, what do they desire of me?"

"That you forthwith, without delay, return to the Mark by the speediest
way possible."

"I?" cried the Electoral Prince, with a mocking smile. "Your wishes and
entreaties, and those of the Brandenburgers, coincide very exactly with my
father's orders!"

"Yes, they do coincide, but spring from different motives. Prince, we
implore, we entreat you to return; no longer give us over to the caprice,
the villainy, the tyranny and avarice of Count von Schwarzenberg. He is
the evil demon of your father, of your country. Come home and frighten him
away!"

The Prince started, and for a moment a deep glow suffused his pale
countenance. His look penetrated deeper into the baron's uplifted,
beseeching eyes, as if through them he would read into the very depths of
his heart.

"Stand up, Marwitz," he said, after a long pause--"stand up, for you are
too old and too venerable to kneel before so young a man as myself. Else,
sit down near me, and explain your words more clearly. What good can my
return home do, and how think you that I can benefit the land? And first
and foremost, why do you call Count Schwarzenberg the evil demon of my
father and his country?"

"Permit me, your highness, to answer the last question first, and thus
will you understand the rest. Count Schwarzenberg is answerable for all
the distress, wretchedness, and misery which envelop the Mark, Prussia,
indeed all parts of your devastated and distracted land, for he acts
contrary to the true interests of the Elector and his land, being wholly
devoted to the interests of his own master, the Emperor of Germany. To
this end all is worked and manoeuvred, with this aim all efforts are
undertaken, to ruin Brandenburg, and take from it all power and
consideration, yea, all hope, in order that it may be rendered dependent
upon the Emperor and empire, and become less dangerous. For the benefit of
the Emperor, and to the detriment of the Elector and his land, has Count
Schwarzenberg concluded the treaty of Prague. Up to that time Brandenburg
was the ally of Sweden, now it is neutral--that is to say, it is the prey
of both parties; it is visited, laid under contribution, and plundered by
the Swedish and Imperialist troops, and can apply for redress to no one,
expect aid from no one. With each day the misery increases more and more.
All trade and commerce languish; in the country the fields remain
untilled, in the towns the artisans are unemployed, nobody finds work or
wages. Hunger and want, and in their retinue sickness and death, daily
demand hundreds of victims. The Swede has possession of your rightful
heritage, Pomerania, and the Imperialists press to invade the Pomeranian
towns and lay them under contribution, without thinking of leaving the
vanquished cities wherewithal to pay tribute to their Sovereign, the
Elector of Brandenburg. Imperialist is to become the whole Mark, the whole
of Pomerania and Prussia, Westphalia and the duchy of Cleves. Imperialist
and Catholic--that is Count Schwarzenberg's plan, and with cruel
consistency he puts in motion everything that can conduce to its
accomplishment. To prevent the recovery, the prosperity of Prussia and the
Mark is the aim of all his policy. He exhausts the land, and yet more than
the enemy plunders and taxes the towns, enriching himself through the
blood and tears of the tortured citizens and hungry peasantry, living in
luxury and splendor, while the Elector is suffering want, while his land
is starved and unproductive."

"Abominable! horrible!" groaned the Electoral Prince, covering his face
with both his hands, probably to conceal from Marwitz the tears which
stood in his eyes.

"Prince," cried Marwitz joyfully, "you are moved! The afflictions of your
country touch your noble heart! Oh, may God be with you in this hour, and
strengthen you for noble and great resolves!"

"What do you require of me?" asked the Prince, after a pause, slowly
withdrawing his hands from his livid face. "What can I do?"

"You can come home, Prince, come home to the unhappy land whose future
lord you are by the appointment of God. Your mere presence will be a
comfort to the unhappy, a terror to Schwarzenberg. On you rest the hopes
of all patriots. You are the standard around whom they rally, the banner
to which they look up in hope and patience, for which, if needs be, they
will battle to the last drop of their blood. You furnish us all with a
center and support, perhaps even your father himself, who maybe sometimes
fears his own almighty minister, certainly your mother, who longs for her
son as her stay and support! Prince, one more last word. I say it with
hesitation, I would not even intrust it to the air, and yet it must be
spoken--Prince, the power of Count Schwarzenberg over your father's heart
is great, and--and--Count Schwarzenberg is a believing Catholic! It would
be a new pillar to his might if the Elector--"

"Hush, hush!" interrupted the Electoral Prince, jumping up from his seat.
"Not another word! You are right, the very air itself may not hear such
words! Bury them in your heart and never again utter them! These are
fearful tidings, which you have brought me, Marwitz, and my heart is
bitterly, painfully moved by them, so that for an instant I--"

"Oh, my beloved young master," entreated Marwitz, "let not your heart be
merely touched by them, but be inspired and sanctified. Embrace a high
noble decision. Conquer yourself, and--"

With uplifted hand the Electoral Prince beckoned him to be silent, and
with rapid step and head sunk he paced up and down the apartment. Then all
at once he stopped, and, quickly raising his head, asked, "Where is
Leuchtmar? Why did he not come with you?"

"I know not, Prince--he told me he could not dare to appear in your
presence; he--"

"Ah! that is true," said the Prince mournfully; "we have not seen each
other since--I beg of you, Marwitz, to go and fetch Leuchtmar to me."

The baron made haste to execute the Prince's mandate. Frederick William
looked after him until the door closed behind him. Then his large, moist
eyes were slowly upraised to heaven, and his trembling lips murmured: "Oh,
how young I am yet, and how much I have still to learn! Help me, my God,
that I may have the needed strength!"

Again the door opened, and Marwitz entered, followed by Leuchtmar, who
remained standing at the door. The Electoral Prince looked at him with
questioning glances, and ever brighter became his brow, ever more cheerful
his aspect. And all at once he spread out his arms, and in a tone of most
heartfelt love, most tender pleading, called out, "My beloved teacher!
come to my arms!"

Leuchtmar sprang forward with a cry of joy. The Prince tenderly fell on
his neck and pressed him closely to his breast.

"Oh," he murmured softly, "my friend, I have suffered much, and still
suffer. Forgive me on account of my pain!"

And he leaned his head on Leuchtmar's shoulder and wept bitterly. A long
pause ensued. No one of the three could interrupt it, for speech remained
locked upon the trembling lips of all, and only their tears, their sighs
spoke. Then the door slowly opened, and the private secretary, Mueller,
appeared upon the threshold. For a moment he stood still, and looked with
quivering lips upon the Prince, who was just slowly extricating himself
from Leuchtmar's embrace, then he stepped resolutely forward.

"Your highness," he said, "forgive me for venturing to intrude my presence
here, without having been summoned. But old Dietrich dared not take the
step which I do now, and so the responsibility rests upon myself alone."

"And what is it?" asked the Prince. "What brings you to me, my dear, true
friend?"

"He calls me his dear, true friend!" rejoiced Mueller.

"All is right again, then--all is in order! We are not dismissed--we are
not sent home!"

"You may be, after all, my old friend," said the Electoral Prince, with a
feeble smile. "But what would you say to me? What sort of responsibility
have you taken upon yourself?"

"Prince, I have taken upon myself the responsibility of admitting into
your cabinet the veiled lady who has just come, and of requesting you to
grant her the audience for which she has been besieging Dietrich with
tears and lamentations. Dietrich, however, would not hear to it, and the
lady continually called for Eberhard to come--Eberhard must lead her to
the Prince. But, as Dietrich says, this is not Eberhard's week of service,
so that he can not enter here. I was attracted to the antechamber by the
loud conversation, and now the lady turned upon me, and pleaded so
touchingly and so eloquently, that I could not refuse to grant her
request. Your highness, I have conducted the lady into your cabinet, and
she awaits you there."

"But, Mueller," cried Baron Leuchtmar despairingly, "what have you done?
How could you be so inconsiderate?"

The old man drew himself up, and his mild eye grew angry. "Inconsiderate!
I was not at all inconsiderate, Baron Leuchtmar. On the contrary, I
thought it would be unworthy of a noble Prince to allow a woman to plead
in vain, and I thought, moreover, that Hercules would never have become a
hero if he had not had the valor to meet the women who greeted him at the
crossing of the roads."

"You have done right, Mueller," said Frederick William, with a faint smile;
"it will be seen whether Hercules was perhaps my forefather. I shall speak
to the lady. Wait for me here."

He crossed the apartment hastily, and entered his cabinet. In the center
of the room stood a veiled female form. The Prince, however, recognized
her, although her face could not be seen, for he knew her by her pretty
coquettish costume to be the Princess Ludovicka's French chambermaid, and
he stepped quickly up to her.

"I thought that it was you, Alice," he said softly, "and I have therefore
come to tell you to--"

With sudden movement she tore back her veil, and before the pale,
beautiful countenance thereby revealed the Prince stepped back, as pale as
death.

"You yourself?" he murmured. "You, Ludovicka?"

"Yes, I, Ludovicka! I come here in my maid's dress," said she, in a voice
trembling with pain and emotion. "I come to you, my beloved, to ask you
whether you will desert me, leaving me in despair, affliction, and
heart-sickness? O Frederick, Frederick! how fearfully have I suffered this
night!"

"And I?" murmured he softly. "Have I not suffered too?"

"No," she cried, "you have not suffered as I did, for you love me not as I
love you--you love me not more than your life, your honor, your
fatherland! You will abandon and forsake me, because it is France that has
offered us aid! Oh, you are a cold, heartless man, as all men are, and yet
I love you so much and can not live without you! Frederick William, you
will not go with me to France--well then, I will go with you, wherever you
will. I cleave to you--I will stay with you! Let shame and ignominy be my
fate, let my mother curse me, let all the world despise me and call me
your mistress, I will stay with you, for I love you and can not live
without you!"

Passionately she extended her arms to him, love flaming in her glances.
But a darker shadow flitted across the Prince's face, and he shrank back.

"God forbid, Ludovicka," he said, "that misery and shame should ever come
to you through me, that your mother should curse you for my sake! We are
both yet children, Ludovicka. I felt right painfully last night that the
first duty of children is to obey and reverence their parents. Let us do
our duty, Ludovicka!"

"That is," replied she with swelling rage--"that is to say, you give me
up? They have overcome your opposition, they have brought you back to
obedience, to subjection?"

"No other than myself has done it, Ludovicka."

"You? You give me up? Voluntarily? And yet you swore that you loved me and
me alone of all the world?"

"And I swore truly, Ludovicka. I love you boundlessly!"

"And yet you will forsake me?"

"Yet I must do so, beloved! I must forsake you, but God alone, who has
witnessed my tortures this past night, knows what I suffer. My father is
solitary, my fatherland calls to me, and the first thing that I sacrifice
on its altar is my love for you. I can not marry you, Ludovicka, and God
forbid that I should accept your love without marriage!"

"Words, nothing but words!" cried she indignantly. "You would palliate
your unfaithfulness, represent your fickleness of mind as magnanimity! But
I hear only one thing in your words--you give me up, you renounce your
love?"

"Yes!" he cried with a loud scream of pain--"yes, I renounce my love!"


"Vengeance upon you for it!" cried she, in flaming wrath. "I, Ludovicka
Hollandine, cry vengeance upon you, for you break my heart!"

"And you will have no compassion? You will not see what I suffer?
Ludovicka, look! Look in my eyes, they wept out last night the pains of a
whole life--see what I suffer! Ludovicka, on my knees I beseech you, if
you really love me, then have pity upon me--for the sake of my agony
forgive me what you suffer!"

And beside himself with emotion, he fell upon his knees, lifting up to her
his clasped hands and his face that was bathed in tears.

But now it was she who shrank back. "No," said she harshly and severely,
"no, no compassion, no forgiveness! I do not love you, I have never loved
you, for you are a foolish boy, and know nothing of the glow of passion!
You are a child! Go away and act like a child, and be an obedient son!
Love rejects you! love turns from you!" And waving him off with both
hands, the Princess turned and walked to the door. Frederick William,
still upon his knees, heard her quickly retreating steps, but did not
rise. Ludovicka had already stretched out her hand to open the door; but
she turned round once more, and in tones of mingled love and grief cried,
"Frederick, will you let me go?"


He did not answer, his head sank lower, and a painful groan forced itself
from his breast. She opened the door--he heard it--he saw the streak of
light that crossed the room through the open door, it vanished--the door
had closed. Then was wrung from the Prince's breast a shriek of agony such
as only issues from the lips of man under the pressure of earth's sharpest
pangs.

The three gentlemen were yet assembled in the Prince's drawing room,
conversing and imparting to one another their fears and hopes. All at once
the door of the cabinet opened and the Electoral Prince entered. Pale as
death, but with firm, determined features, he stepped up to the three
gentlemen, who looked at him with tender, anxious glances.

"Marwitz," he said, "you can this very day set out on your return to
Berlin, for your mission is fulfilled. Say to my father that as an
obedient son I submit to his wishes, and shall forthwith depart for
Berlin."

The three gentlemen only answered him by a single cry of joy, and,
animated by one feeling, one inspiration, sank upon their knees and prayed
aloud, "Bless, O God! bless the Prince, who has conquered himself!"

"What is going on here?" asked a loud manly voice behind them. "What means
this? Three gentlemen on their knees, and my young cousin looking on like
the Knight St. George!"

"And so he is, Prince of Orange," cried Baron Leuchtmar, rising and
advancing to meet the Prince, who had come in unannounced, as was his wont
at the house of his cousin. "Yes, he is a Knight St. George, who has
conquered the dragon. You know, Prince Henry, how sweetly they have
enticed him, with what magic chains they have been encircling him. You
know the Media Nocte and"--added he softly--"the Princess Ludovicka."

"Well, and what more now?" asked the Prince, with eager interest. "Not
much, cousin," said Frederick William, with a melancholy smile. "I must
bid you farewell. I owe it to my parents, to my honor, and my country,
forthwith to leave The Hague!"[19]

"Bravo, cousin, bravo!" cried Henry of Orange. "You flee from danger and
escape from temptation. That is to be called heroism, and herewith you
have as truly conquered a citadel as when I vanquished Breda!"

"Believe me too, cousin," said Frederick William, while he leaned upon the

Prince's heroic breast--"believe me, that this victory has cost much blood
and many tears."

One moment he let his head rest on the shoulder of his fatherly friend,
then proudly drew himself up.

"Baron Leuchtmar and you, my trusty private secretary, Mueller!" he cried,
with loud voice, "to-day we leave The Hague and proceed to Arnheim, and
thence we set forth to-morrow on our journey home. Marwitz, you travel in
advance. The golden days of our youth are past! Let iron ones follow! I am
prepared for all!"




BOOK III.

I.--NEW PLANS.


"Strange, very strange," muttered Count Adam Schwarzenberg to himself.
"The Prince must have set out on his journey four weeks ago, and still no
news from Gabriel Nietzel! The journey by sea, it is true, offered no
opportunity for any enterprise, and the Electoral Prince had the sublime
fancy of choosing the water in preference to the land route, in spite of
the severities of this season of the year. But, according to the Prince's
scheme of traveling, and according to my own calculations, the Prince must
have reached Hamburg full eight days ago, and as he was only to stay there
three days, he must already have been journeying five days by land, and
yet have I in vain looked for any tidings whatever from Gabriel Nietzel.
Could it be possible that this man has dared to disobey me?--could he have
carried his folly so far as to sacrifice wife and child rather than
execute my commands?"

Gloomily the count's brow wrinkled, as he asked himself this question, and
his eyes flamed with fury. With folded arms he walked rapidly to and fro.

"To think that all my plans may be wrecked by the pangs of conscience of a
single fool!" he sighed--"to think, that for months, nay, for years, I
have been laboring in vain to see the realization of these projects, and
that in my highest, proudest aims I am dependent upon a blockhead,
who--What is it Daniel? What is your errand?"

"Pardon me, your excellency; some one is without who
desires most urgently to speak with you."

"Who is it?--do you know him?"

"No, my lord count, I do not know him, and he will not tell what he wants
of your excellency. He says he must speak with your lordship himself, and
I must only announce his name. It is Gabriel Nietzel."

"Gabriel Nietzel!" cried the count. "Why did you not tell me so directly,
you fool! Bring him in without delay, and take care that no one disturbs
us so long as the painter Gabriel Nietzel is with us."

The lackey hurried off, leaving the door open for the painter, whom he
fetched in from the first antechamber. Breathlessly, in violent
excitement, Count Schwarzenberg looked toward this open door. "It is my
future fate that is about to enter," he murmured. "Ah, there he is! There
is Gabriel Nietzel!" And in his vehement agitation he rushed forward a few
steps to meet the painter, whom he saw approaching through the entrance
hall. But forcibly constraining himself to an appearance of moderation and
reserve, he stood still and assumed a calm, unimpassioned expression.
Gabriel Nietzel entered, and behind him the lackey gently closed the door.
The sharp eyes of the count rested inquiringly upon the newcomer, who
remained standing near the door with head sunk and humble, melancholy
mien. This submissive, contrite silence on the part of the returning
painter was sufficiently eloquent to the mind of the count. It told him
that Gabriel Nietzel had nothing welcome to communicate. He subdued his
rage and proudly threw back his head, as if to shake off, like troublesome
insects, all his disappointed hopes.

"Well, you are actually at home again, Master Court Painter!" he cried, in
a tone that was well-nigh cheerful.

"Yes, your excellency," whispered Gabriel, with downcast eyes, "here I am
again, and report myself forthwith to your excellency."

"To me?" asked Schwarzenberg, affecting astonishment. "Why do you report
yourself to me, and what have I to do with you, Sir Court Painter Gabriel
Nietzel? You should have gone to the palace, to the Electress, and
gladdened her heart with your pleasing intelligence. I doubt not that you
are the bearer of glad tidings for her, and come to forewarn her of the
Prince's speedy arrival here in safety and good health?"

"I had no wish to go to her highness the Electress," said Gabriel Nietzel
humbly. "She knows already, independently of any information from me, that
the Electoral Prince is safe and sound. I come to your excellency to
excuse myself for the failure of my undertaking, and to beg your pardon."

"I do not understand you at all, Sir Court Painter," replied Count
Schwarzenberg, shrugging his shoulders. "I know not what sort of
undertaking you had in view, what you have failed in, and what I can have
to pardon you for."

"Your excellency!" cried Gabriel with an outburst of grief--"your
excellency, I swear that I am innocent, that it has been the result of no
ill will, no negligence, but because I really could not find an
opportunity for carrying out what--"

"Well, carrying out what?" asked Schwarzenberg, when Gabriel faltered.
"What do I care for your unfinished works, your abortive schemes? I only
buy finished pictures, and, if they are well executed and successes, I pay
for them in kingly style. With daubers, though, and wretched copyists who
would pass off copies as originals, I have nothing to do. Speak not to me,
then, Sir Court Painter, of your sketches and designs. I ask nothing about
them, but only come to me when you have a completed work to exhibit."

"Your excellency will not understand me," said Gabriel, while drops of
agony trickled from his cold brow.

"No," proudly retorted the count, "it is for you to understand
_me_, Sir Court Painter Gabriel Nietzel. Were you not sent to The Hague to
complete your studies there? Why have you returned home so soon?"

"Because I was homesick, most gracious sir--because I longed inexpressibly
after my child, my wife!"

The painter ventured to lift his eyes with earnest anxiety and entreaty to
the face of the count, but Schwarzenberg's glance remained cold.

"Ah, you have a wife?" he asked, with indifference. "You left her behind
and went alone to The Hague?"

"Yes, I went there quite alone, because I had a great and important work
to accomplish there; but before I had even stretched my canvas and
sketched the outlines, an unexpected hindrance interposed which
annihilated all my plans."

"What sort of hindrance?" asked the count carelessly, while he played with
the heavy golden chain about his neck, to which was attached the portrait
of the Elector set in brilliants. "What sort of hindrance?"

"The Electoral Prince, to whom the Electress had recommended me, and who
received me into the number of his attendants, suddenly and unexpectedly
determined to take his departure from The Hague, and straightway carried
his resolution into effect. He himself, together with Baron von Marwitz,
Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun, secretary Mueller, and his chamberlain
repaired forthwith to Amsterdam, in order to take ship there. He, however,
ordered his majordomo and myself to break up his household, to pack up
his books and paintings, and to journey with them by land to Berlin. I
ventured to protest against this, and even preferred the request to be
permitted to accompany the Electoral Prince upon his sea voyage; this,
however, Baron Leuchtmar refused, and nobody was allowed to speak with the
Electoral Prince himself. Up to the time of his departure he remained shut
up in his chamber, and only left it to get into the carriage which
conveyed him to Amsterdam. There, as was known, lay a passenger vessel
ready to sail for Hamburg, and in this the Electoral Prince took passage."

"And you did not see the Electoral Prince at all before he set out?"

"Oh, your excellency, I had ranged myself along with all his other
household officers at the side of his traveling carriage, and the Prince
very condescendingly held out his hand to me, yes, he even tried to smile.
'Gabriel Nietzel,' he said, 'make all speed to reach Berlin right soon. I
shall desire my mother to allow you to enter my special service, and then
you shall paint for me many a pretty picture. Until then, farewell!' He
once more nodded kindly to me, and jumped into the carriage."

"That is the only time that you have spoken at all to the Electoral
Prince?"

"No, your honor, on the very day of my arrival I had an audience with him,
and the Electoral Prince was highly delighted to receive news from home. I
must tell him everything in detail, and since, with your gracious
permission, I claimed to side with your lordship's opponents, the
Electoral Prince immediately became very confidential and affectionate to
me, receiving me into his house and retinue, and promising to present me
at the courts of the Stadtholder and the Queen of Bohemia."

"How came it, then, that the Prince so immediately afterward suddenly took
the resolution to depart?"

"Most gracious sir, four-and-twenty hours after myself the Chamberlain von
Marwitz arrived at The Hague, and had a long conversation with the
Electoral Prince. Immediately after that the Electoral Prince gave orders
for departure, and three hours later had already left The Hague."

"Now it seems, therefore, that Baron von Marwitz is a very persuasive
speaker, who well understood how to move the Electoral Prince's heart, and
to lead him back to obedience to his father and--myself. I shall therefore
prove my gratitude to Herr von Marwitz. I like very much to have my orders
and commissions executed punctiliously and exactly, and this Herr von
Marwitz has done, for I had bidden him to leave no means untried whereby
the Electoral Prince might be induced to leave Holland."

A crushing glance from his large gray eyes as he uttered these words fell
full upon Gabriel Nietzel's pale and contrite face, making his heart quake
with undefined dread.

"Your honor is very angry with me?" he asked faintly.

"You?" exclaimed the count in astonishment. "Why should I be angry with
you? What have I to do with you? I only know you as the painter Nietzel,
who sold me a copy for a good original, and whom I could therefore have
condemned to the gallows as a falsifier and cheat. But you know I have
forgiven you, and let your copy be valued as an original. I even went
further in my magnanimous forgiveness; I had even intrusted you with
commissions for Holland, where you were to visit the picture galleries in
order to make copies. You have not executed my commissions, for you have
returned home too soon. That is all, and therefore all connection between
us is dissolved. Farewell, Mr. Court Painter Gabriel Nietzel; you are
dismissed!"

He haughtily motioned to the door, turned his back upon the painter, and
slowly traversed the apartment. But Gabriel Nietzel did not go. There he
stood as if rooted to the spot, and stared fixedly at the count, who
walked to and fro, as if lost in thought, and seemed to be wholly
unconscious that the painter had dared still to remain in his presence.
After a long pause his eye fell quite accidentally on the spot where
Gabriel Nietzel stood, and he started as if in sudden terror.

"Why, you still here?" he asked. "You dare to brave me? To terrify me with
your dull, pale face? Have you grown deaf, Mr. Court Painter? Did you not
hear me dismiss you?"

"I heard, but your honor knows that I can not go. Your lordship well knows
that from your lips I await the sentence which is to seal my whole future
fate, and that I will not leave this room until I have received this."

"How? You will not leave this room. You will stay although I have bidden
you go? Very well, then, I shall call my servants and have you put out."

And already the count's hand was stretched forth to take his silver
whistle. But Gabriel Nietzel dared to grasp this hand and hold it firmly
between both his own.

"Pity, gracious sir, pity!" he pleaded. "Drive me from your presence, take
from me the pension you most condescendingly insured to me; I feel that I
am indeed undeserving of your favor and graciousness. Only, for pity's
sake, for humanity's sake, restore to me my own--give me my wife and
child!"

"What have I to do with your wife and child?" asked Count Schwarzenberg
angrily. "Have you handed them over to me? Am I the chief of an asylum for
deserted women and children?"

"My wife, Sir Count, give me back my wife!" cried Gabriel Nietzel, sinking
down upon his knees.

"I know nothing about her, I have never seen her," said the count.

"You do know about her, your excellency! You took her and my dear,
precious child under your protection when I went to The Hague. You had my
wife and child carried to, Spandow, and gave them an abode within your
palace there."

"Now I see plainly that you speak like a deranged man, Master Gabriel
Nietzel," cried the count passionately. "Collect your faculties, man, or I
shall immediately have you arrested and sent to a madhouse. I repeat,
collect your faculties, and utter not such palpably idle tales. Very
likely that I should have taken your wife and child into my keeping.
Bethink yourself, Master Gabriel Nietzel, be rational, and remember that
you are happily unincumbered and a free bachelor!"

"No, no, I am not free!" shrieked Gabriel Nietzel. "I have a wife, I have
a child, and see them again I must! Deliver them up to me, Sir Count. I
beseech you by all that is sacred--deliver them up to me! I must have my
wife and boy again!"

"Well then, go and look for them," said Schwarzenberg composedly "Apply to
the police, and furnish them with a description of both their persons.
Show your marriage license and your child's certificate of baptism, that
every one may be convinced of the truth of your deposition. Then write a
description of your wife, or, as you are a painter, draw a likeness of
her, publish her name and family, call upon her relatives to render you
their assistance, and in that way, if you really have a wife, you will in
the end succeed in discovering her."

"Sir Count, you well know that I can not do so," groaned Gabriel Nietzel.
"You well know that I am a poor, ruined man, entirely in your power. I
beseech you, have mercy upon me! Restore to me my wife and child, and I
will do all that you require of me. Give me back my wife, and I swear to
you that I will do here what I was to have done on the journey. I swear
to you that I will make good what I missed, that I--"

"I do not believe your oaths, Gabriel Nietzel," interposed the count. "You
are liberal with your oaths and promises, but come short in deeds, in
performances. Nobody will pay for a picture before he has seen it, or at
least a sketch of the same. Therefore take yourself off, devise a plan,
sketch your outline, and bring it to me. If it pleases me, and is
practicable, if I see that you are zealous and well disposed, then will I
gladly aid you in its execution and pay you in princely style. That is my
last word, Master Court Painter Gabriel Nietzel, and now go, and do not
show your face here again until you can show me that sketch. You have
understood me, have you not, Master Gabriel Nietzel? I bespeak a picture,
and you are to furnish me with a sketch of it; then, as you are in want, I
shall gladly pay you for it in advance."

"Yes, I have understood your lordship," said Gabriel Nietzel, heaving a
deep sigh. "I know a subject for the painting you have ordered, and will
make a sketch of it. You shall not have to wait long for it."

"It is a fine subject," said Schwarzenberg quietly. "We might call it the
murder of Julius Caesar."

"No, it is the execution of the Emperor Conrad III--the execution and
murder of the last Hohen-Hohenstaufen," sobbed the painter, while tears
fell in clear streams from his eyes.

"I believe another paroxysm of insanity has seized you," said the count
contemptuously. "How can any one weep merely because he will represent a
tragic scene? What is the last of the Hohenstaufens to you? You depict his
death, and if the painting is a success I shall reward you handsomely for
it, give you a splendid income, and then you can go to Italy, the home of
all artists, to spend the remainder of your life there in pleasure and
freedom."

"It shall be just as your excellency says," sighed Gabriel. "Only, your
excellency, only be so gracious as to give me back my wife and child."

"I said so, your paroxysm of madness is coming on afresh!" cried
Schwarzenberg, shrugging his shoulders. "Man, are you really beside
yourself?--have you lost your senses? Do you demand your wife and child of
me, of Count Adam von Schwarzenberg, the Stadtholder in the Mark? Go away
with your follies. Be off, so that you can make your sketch, and when you
come back, and it is good, you will perhaps find me inclined to answer all
your silly questions for you!"

"Sir Count, oh, for God's sake, let me at least see my Rebecca once more!"

"Rebecca! your wife's name is Rebecca? Why, that really sounds as if she
were a Jewess. And you say that she is your wife? Ah, repeat that again,
then name the priest who celebrated your nuptials and united a Christian
to a Jewess! By ----! I shall bring this evildoer to a strict account, and
he shall be degraded from his office as a criminal and blot upon the
Church, for he has sinned against God, the Church, and his Sovereign!
Gabriel Nietzel, name the priest who married you to a Jewess!"

"I can not name him," murmured Nietzel, almost inaudibly. "Sir Count, I
will be obedient and diligent in your service. I am a wretched sinner, and
must expiate my crime. I shall do penance, too, and will be nothing more
than a tool in your hands. Only have mercy upon me. Let me at least see my
wife and child, if I may not speak to them! I only wish to see them, in
order to gain courage and strength for my difficult and dangerous
undertaking."

The count reflected for a moment, his eyes fastened upon Gabriel Nietzel's
countenance, whose imploring, anxious expression seemed to touch him.

"I have in my house at Spandow," he said, after a long pause, "a beautiful
painting by Albrecht Duerer. It was, unfortunately, a little injured in the
transportation, and you shall restore it for me. To-morrow morning repair
to Spandow, and ask for me. I shall be there, and will myself put the
painting in your charge. Perhaps you will see there another painting
besides, which will please you, and which, perhaps, is not unknown to
you."

Gabriel Nietzel took the count's proffered hand, and with joyful
impatience pressed it to his lips. "Sir Count, I will be your servant,
your slave, your creature. I will damn my soul for you and suffer the
torture of perpetual flames if you will only give back to me my wife and
child!"

"Master Court Painter," said Schwarzenberg, parodying his words, "I shall
make you a rich and distinguished man. I shall send you to Italy, and you
will enjoy the heavenly fires of the Italian sky, if you will only bring
me the sketch ordered, and prove to me that you are in earnest as to its
execution."

Gabriel Nietzel laughed aloud in the joy of his heart.

"Your highness shall not have long to wait. I will very soon have the
sketch at your excellency's disposal."

"We shall see," said the count, with a slight nod of his head. "And now
that we have understood one another, and you have somewhat recovered your
reason, now for the last time I tell you, you are dismissed!"

Gabriel Nietzel bowed low, and strode through the apartment toward the
door of entrance, reverentially going backward that he might not turn his
back upon the high-born, all-powerful count. He had almost reached the
door, when it was opened and a valet appeared, who announced in a loud
voice:

"His honor Count John Adolphus von Schwarzenberg!"

"My son!" exclaimed the count. "He has returned? Where is he? Where?"

"His honor has just gone to his apartments to divest himself of his
traveling clothes, but with your highness's permission he will be here in
a few minutes."

"Tell the count, that I expect him with impatience," cried the father. The
valet hurried out, and Gabriel Nietzel was in the act of following him,
when Schwarzenberg called him back.

"Do not go out that way now," he said; "my son is coming, and it is not
worth while for him to see you. Go through yonder door. It leads to a
corridor, and there you will find a small staircase by which you can
descend to the court. Go!"




II.--COUNT JOHN ADOLPHUS VON SCHWARZENBERG.


"I think I have distressed and tormented him enough," said the count to
himself; "he will devise some means of gratifying my wishes, and in his
despair will risk everything in order to obtain his wife and child. It is
well that men have hearts, for they supply the most convenient handles for
seizing hold of them and managing them. And for that reason men without
susceptible hearts always become rulers, conquerors. Therefore have I
become great and powerful, and will ascend yet higher, grow yet more
mighty, for I, thank God! I have no heart! I have never been a victim to
the silly vagaries of an enamored heart, never made a fool of myself for
any woman; never have I felt my heart moved by any other desire than that
of attaining a pre-eminent position and becoming a great man. Such I have
become, but I would mount yet higher, and in this--in this that enamored
fool Gabriel Nietzel shall assist me."

The count grew suddenly silent, and looked toward the door. In the
antechamber he had heard the sound of a voice familiar and grateful to his
ears, a voice which awakened in his breast a rare and unwonted feeling of
joy and happiness. "My son," he murmured, "yes, it is my son. I really
believe that I have a heart at last, for I feel it beat higher just now,
and feel that it is a happiness to have a son!"

He hastily crossed the room, and had almost reached the door, when it
suddenly opened and revealed the presence of a tall and slender young
man, dressed in the elegant Spanish garb, such as was worn at the court of
the German Emperor Ferdinand III.

"Father, dear father!" he cried, with a voice full of tenderness, and with
outstretched arms he sped toward his father to press him to his heart.
Count Adam von Schwarzenberg smilingly submitted, and an infinite feeling
of satisfaction penetrated his whole being under the warm pressure of his
only son's embrace. But only one short instant did he yield to this
sensation, for he was ashamed of his weakness, and gently extricated
himself from his son's arms.

"Here you are again, you gadabout and rover!" he said; but he could not
subdue the brighter glistening of his eyes, as they fastened themselves
upon his son's handsome, spirited, and youthful face.

"Yes, here I am again, _cher et aimable pere_," exclaimed the young man,
laughing; "but you do me great injustice by calling me a gadabout and
rover, for, indeed, I have only traveled on most serious and proper
business, and it strikes me that I am vastly to be feared and honored in
my capacity of imperial treasurer and member of the Aulic council."

"What?" cried Count Adam joyfully, "the Emperor has conferred upon you
such a high favor and honored you with such lofty titles?"

The young count nodded assent. "In me he has honored my father's son,"
said he, "and distinguished me out of veneration and respect for you."

"You are far too modest, my son," cried the count, smiling. "What the
Emperor Ferdinand has done for you he did not for your father's son, but
in deference to your own merits."

"Please, oh please, let us talk no more on the subject," said the young
man. "You will not succeed in altering my opinion, especially as I had it
from the exalted mouth of his Imperial Majesty himself, that he gladly
distinguished the son of so noble, gifted, and faithful a servant as Count
Adam Schwarzenberg had ever been to the imperial house, and in
consideration thereof bestowed upon him the dignity of imperial treasurer,
and nominated him independently of individual merit a member of the Aulic
council. I beg you to observe, my noble and highly deserving count, that
your son has fallen heir to his honors without individual merit, whence it
naturally follows that I am a worthless treasurer, and wholly devoid of
merit as a member of the Aulic council."

"Well," laughed his father, "then I must console you with this, Adolphus,
that you are besides that my coadjutor in my office of Grand Master of the
Knights of St. John, and that I entertain the fixed determination of soon
seeing you share with me the Stadtholdership of the Mark."

"I assure you, I need no consolation whatever!" cried Count Adolphus
Schwarzenberg. "I am your son, and that is as much as if I were the fair
Danae, and had a shower of gold perpetually poured out upon me."

"You would deceive me," said Count Adam, gently shaking his head. "You
would have me believe that you are satisfied with being my son, and have
no personal ambition for yourself."

"It is no deception, _cher pere_" laughed the young man. "I really do not
give myself the trouble to have personal ambition beforehand. I behold my
much-loved father standing in the sunshine of renown, and I quite
composedly allow a few stray beams from his splendor to alight upon
myself. I would not say, though, that I am wholly devoid of ambition. I
only avoid talking about it till the time comes."

"My son, the time is come," said Count Adam quickly. "Yes, the time for
ambition is come with you, too, and to-day we must discuss it at length.
But first tell me what news do you bring me from Vienna? Come, let us sit
down, and confer with one another like two grave politicians and
diplomatists." He took his son's arm and led him toward the divan.

"God forbid, Sir Stadtholder, that I, a mere tyro in diplomacy and
politics, should venture to seat myself at your side," cried Count
Adolphus. "No, father, I know my place, and you must indeed permit me to
take my station at a reverential distance from you."

He took one of the little gold-embroidered footstools which stood near the
divan and seated himself opposite his father. Count Adam looked upon him
with a proud yet gentle smile, and seemed to have his own pleasure in his
son's handsome and imposing appearance.

"I should like to know whether you resemble me," he said thoughtfully; "I
should like to know whether I was ever such a lively, jovial young man."

"You are more than that, most respected father," cried his son; "you were
handsome and possessed of irresistible attractions. I know that, for you
are still so."

"So, it seems that my son has learned to flatter at the imperial court!"

"No, no; I speak the truth, and I swear that every one who has the good
fortune to be admitted to your presence will confirm my testimony. You
understand the art of fascinating men, and once let any one love you, then
you can never be forgotten. The Emperor Ferdinand spoke of you with
genuine admiration, and Princess Lobkowitz assured me that you were the
only man whom she had ardently and truly loved. And yet they say that
Princess Lobkowitz has had many admirers and still has."

"Princess Lobkowitz!" repeated Count Adam thoughtfully--"how fine that
sounds, Princess Lobkowitz! Yet I well remember the time when Lobkowitz
was quite a poor, inconsiderable count, who esteemed himself peculiarly
happy when I lent him some of my pocket money, which, by the bye, I never
saw again. We were both at that time pages at the court of Emperor
Ferdinand I, and swore eternal friendship. But how vain are such oaths! I
afterward left the imperial court and came to the court of Cleves, and
thence here to Prussia. I have restlessly labored, and may well say that I
have wielded the helm of state in this country for twenty years, and--am
still nothing but plain Count Schwarzenberg! The little, insignificant
Count Lobkowitz, on the other hand, has now become a Prince through the
Emperor's favor, as have also Eggenberg, Liechtenstein, and Fuerstenberg."

"You shall be a Prince, too, father," said Count Adolphus softly. "Yes,
without doubt, you have only to hint your wish to receive the title of
Prince, and the Emperor Ferdinand will gladly remunerate you in that way,
if he first sees his own desires fulfilled through you."

The count started, and cast an inquisitive, questioning look upon his son.
"I thank you, Adolphus," said he, "you have led back our conversation, or
rather, my lord treasurer, our conference, to the subject in point, in a
manner as tender as diplomatic. Yes, the question is, first of all, to
learn what news you bring for me from his Majesty, and what orders the
Emperor has to give me."

"First of all, _cher pere_, the Emperor wishes that every possible
obstruction be interposed to prevent the Electoral Prince's marriage with
the Princess of the Palatinate, and that, if practicable, the Electoral
Prince be deterred from forming any matrimonial connection. It would
greatly complicate affairs if the Electoral Prince should chance to have
offspring soon, and thereby outwardly give more firmness and durability to
the house of Brandenburg."

The count's eyes flashed upon his son's countenance, which still preserved
its placid, innocent expression. "Who told you that?" said he, "Who spoke
such strange, mysterious words? Not the Emperor, no, he can not have said
that!"

"No, but the Emperor's most confidential adviser, _mio padre amato_, the
venerable father confessor and Jesuit, Signor Silvio. By the way, I regard
him as a man turned serpent, and would avoid exposing a shoeless heel to
him. But one thing is certain, that he has the Emperor's ear not only in
the confessional, but in the council chamber as well, and what he says is
just as good as if the Emperor himself said it. For the rest, they affirm
at the imperial court that he is a sorcerer, and can look through men's
eyes straight into their hearts and decipher what is therein as plainly
and distinctly as if it was written on parchment in German text."

"I believe it is so," murmured the count. "I believe he has read into my
heart, too. But further, further, my son! What more did Father Silvio say
to you?"

"He spoke much of the weak and uncertain condition of the Electoral house
of Brandenburg, which he said rested upon only two lives, and would be
extinct if the Electoral Prince Frederick William should perish by a
sudden death."

The count started, and a gray pallor overspread his face. His son,
absorbed in his own discourse, observed it not and continued: "I ventured
meanwhile to differ from the wise father, and reminded him that seven
cousins and blood relations were still in existence, to give permanence to
the Elector's family, and thereby lessen very greatly the weakness of the
Brandenburg-Hohenzollerns. But Father Silvio smiled almost compassionately
at this remark of mine, and said in a tone of lofty superiority: 'Young
man, your father will be a better judge of this; only repeat my words to
him: that the Emperor will not admit the claims of the collateral branches
of the Electoral house, and if unfortunately the Electoral Prince of
Brandenburg should die without descendants, he will consider the Electoral
Mark as an unincumbered fief, which the Emperor of Germany, in the
plenitude of his power and as an act of free grace, might bestow on
another prince.'"

Count Adam Schwarzenberg sprang up, and for a moment his eyes rested with
a penetrating expression upon his son's countenance. Then he turned and
began to move violently to and fro. Now it was his son's turn to fix his
eyes piercingly upon _him_. When the count turned again, however, there
was no trace of excitement visible on the young man's countenance, and
with a friendly smile he looked at his father. Count Adam stepped close up
to him, and laid his hand on his son's shoulder.

"You did not remind wise Father Silvio, then," he asked, "that the Elector
George William has, besides his son, two daughters? That there are two
Electoral Princesses--Charlotte Louise and the young Sophie Hedwig?"

"No, father," replied Count Adolphus carelessly, "no, I did not. I deemed
that superfluous, because in the Brandenburg Electoral house women have no
right to the succession. The Salic law exists here, does it not?"

"As if laws could not be altered!" cried Count Adam. "As if the Emperor
were not here to give new laws! My son, let us speak openly and candidly
to one another, and answer me one question: On what terms are you with the
Princess Charlotte Louise?"

The young man started, and for a moment a deep blush suffused his cheeks.
"I do not understand you, father. What do you mean? On what terms should I
be with the Princess?"

"John Adolphus, you understand me well enough, and know what I mean,"
returned Count Schwarzenberg smiling. "When I ask on what terms you are
with the Princess Charlotte Louise, I mean by that, what progress have you
made in her good graces?"

An almost imperceptible smile flitted across the young count's visage.
"Well," he said, "the ladies of the Electoral house have ever been most
condescending in their manner to me, Princess Charlotte Louise no less
than her mother and sister, and, as I have done nothing to forfeit their
favor, I hope that upon my return they will receive me as graciously as
they dismissed me before I left home."

"My son," said Count Adam seriously, "you answer me evasively, and that is
not well. We two are made to support each other, and to go hand in hand in
the difficult path which lies before us. For you know as well as I do that
our safety is imperiled when the Electoral Prince again makes his
appearance at court, and we will henceforth find many stones of stumbling
in our way."

"But my wise and puissant father will remove all such obstructions," cried
the son, with a merry laugh. "Let the Electoral Prince throw ever so many
stones in our way, we can pick them up, and your honor will find
opportunity to hurl them back at the little Prince, the last scion of his
house."

"I shall find opportunity, and, by heavens, I will make use of it."

"And if my gracious father can or will make use of me in picking up the
stones, or maybe in throwing them, I am most heartily at his service. Your
honor needs only to direct. I shall aim well, and hope to hit the mark."

"My son, verily, you are a great diplomatist," cried Schwarzenberg, "and
many an one who esteems himself an old adept in this art might take
lessons from you. How cleverly you managed to evade the question I put to
you, and lead the conversation into a different channel! But I must recur
to my question, and, since you will throw stones subject to my direction,
then, my son, I tell you that your relations with the Princess Charlotte
Louise may become a most effective missile against the Electoral Prince,
which, if you aim it accurately, may inflict a deadly blow upon the
Prince. Therefore, my fine son, answer my question honestly: On what terms
are you with the Princess Charlotte Louise?"

A cloud of displeasure flitted across the young count's lofty and open
brow, and his cheerful countenance became overshadowed with gloom.

"My God!" he said, "what on earth has the Princess to do with politics?"

"A great deal, my son. Let me remind you of Father Silvio's words, which
you yourself reported to me. The father had me informed that in case of
the Electoral Prince's dying without heirs, his Majesty would not
recognize the claims of the other branches of the house of Brandenburg,
but would consider the Electoral Mark as a vacant fief, which he might
bestow elsewhere as matter of favor. The simplest and most natural thing
will be, if there is no longer any son living, to pass the right of
succession to the daughter, and for the Emperor to declare the eldest
daughter of the Elector George William rightful successor, and to transmit
the Electoral Mark Brandenburg to herself and her husband as an act of
grace."

"Those are very great and very far-seeing plans," murmured the young man,
with downcast eyes.

"But plans which may be realized," interposed his father hastily--"plans
which you have very maturely weighed in your prudent brain, for--I shall
answer my own question myself--for you are on very good terms with
Princess Charlotte Louise. You have calculated very wisely and very
correctly. The Princess loves you, and may bring you an electorship as a
bridal gift."

"God forbid that I should play a criminal game with the Princess's heart!"
cried Count Adolphus, in tones louder and more energetic than he had yet
employed. "You accuse me falsely, most gracious sir. It has never come
into my mind to speculate on such a bridal gift, or to make of love a
calculation."

Count Adam gazed with an expression of painful astonishment upon the
excited countenance of his son. "Unhappy boy, you love the Princess,
then?" he asked.

"Yes," exclaimed the young man vehemently--"yes, I love her! I should love
her were she a simple village maiden. I should seek to win her were she of
obscure and humble parentage, if she could present me with nothing but her
heart, her affectionate nature, her charming self. Learn now, father, on
what terms I stand with the Princess: I love her, love her passionately!"

"Ah, my son, how well this enthusiasm becomes you!" said his father. "How
happy the Princess would be if she could see you with those fiery glances
flashing from your large bright eyes! My son, you will surpass me, for you
have one great advantage over me, you have received from Nature a glorious
endowment denied to me; you have a tender heart! You either feel glowing
love or--maybe simulate, and act it to the life! We will not discuss this
further; I only repeat it, you are destined to surpass me. You love the
Princess Charlotte Louise! I thank you for this one confession, but add to
it a second, Adolphus. Tell me whether the Princess returns your love?"

"I have not ventured to put this question to her," replied Count Adolphus,
with downcast eyes. "The Princess is so high above me, is so pure and
virtuous, that it would be a sin to tempt her innocence and virtue by the
avowal of an unsanctioned love!"

"My son!" exclaimed the count, smiling, "you are a pattern of discretion
and modesty. You amaze, you delight me. You have not ventured, and will
not venture to declare your love to the Princess?"

"No, father, at least, not so long as it is an unsanctioned love--so long
as I do not know whether it has your approval, and through you the
Elector's."

"You would step surely, you would engage in no undertaking that does not
promise good results! Ah, I understand now--I comprehend all now. I have
an irresistible desire to embrace you, and I know you will pardon your
father for this one ebullition of tenderness. Come to my heart, my great,
my admirable son!"

He flung his arms around his son's neck and imprinted a warm kiss upon his
lips.

"Count John Adolphus Schwarzenberg," he said then, "with this kiss I give
you my consent to woo the Princess Charlotte Louise! With this kiss I
promise so to work upon and bend the Elector's heart, that he will give
you the Princess's hand, and agree to your union."

"My dear father, you open indeed to me the gate of paradise. But this gate
has two wings, and if I would gain admittance, both wings must open to
me."

"Oh, you mean the Electress? She will certainly be very much opposed to
such a union, for she has a proud and willful heart, over which no one has
any influence except the Electoral Prince, and he, indeed, will not use
his influence in our behalf. Well, there is nothing for it but to oppose
force to force, and to constrain the dear lady to give her consent. To
employ such coercive measures is your affair, my son!"

"You empower me to do so, father? You will not refuse me your support? You
will not disavow my acts?"

"I empower you to do everything you think needful, and you will find me a
faithful ally, for I recognize joyfully in you my trusty coadjutor, and
see that we may count upon each other."


"I shall ever esteem it a sacred and delightful duty to obey you, my
much-loved father, and I shall joyfully hold myself ready to carry out
your wishes."

"And you will do well in this, my son," said Count Adam Schwarzenberg,
with a hearty pressure of the hand. "All that I do for myself is also done
for you, all that I obtain is for your profit and advantage. You are my
heir, to you will descend all my earthly possessions, my name, my renown,
my dignities and offices, my money and estates."

"_Cher pere_" cried the young man, "let us not speak of such solemn
things. I hope that it will be a long time yet ere I enter upon that great
and sad inheritance."

"I hope so, too," said Count Adam, with animation of manner. "I would
leave you _all_ in perfect condition, and to effect this much labor is yet
required. I have set myself a mighty task, and it is yet far from its
accomplishment."

"And yet you have already conducted and executed matters so grandly, so
admirably, father! You have no idea with what rapture they think of you
and your performances at the imperial court. Emperor Ferdinand spoke of
you as his most trusted and beloved servant, and Father Silvio called you
a lamp of the faith and a faithful son of the Church, through whom many
will yet be saved."

"Yes, many shall yet be brought within the ark of safety by my means!"
cried Count Adam, in a lively manner. "I know what I purpose, I know the
great aims after which I have striven for twenty years with intrepid
spirit, with ardor never to be chilled. My son, with you I make no secret
of my aims, and you must know them, that you may stand unflinching at my
side. It is true, I am ambitious. I thirst for fame; it is true, I have
labored for myself and forwarded my own personal interests as much as I
could. My aims, however, are not restricted to these private interests,
they are higher, nobler! I am the faithful servant and subject of my
Emperor and lord; I am the believing and zealous son of our holy Church.
To the Emperor and the Church belong the fruits of my striving and my
energy, and to promote the greatness and consideration of both is the
ultimate object of all my labors and all my schemes."

"And I, most gracious father, will take my station firmly at your side,"
said Count Adolphus fervently. "You will ever find in me an attentive
pupil, eager to learn."

"We have both a great mission to fulfill," exclaimed Count Adam, "and it
is well for us sometimes to place this clearly before our eyes, in order
to be ever mindful of it, and never to forget it even in the pursuance of
private ends. You, too, remember this, my son, and act accordingly. To the
Emperor and the Church be all our services dedicated! To render the
Emperor great and mighty, to strengthen his consideration throughout the
German Empire, is and shall be my aim as a statesman. To extend
continually the power and dominion of the Catholic religion is and shall
be my task as a Christian, as a son of the Church, within whose pale alone
is salvation. God himself has chosen me for his tool, else how would it
have been possible that the bigoted, reformed Elector should have selected
me for his first and mightiest minister? God wills that through me the
influence of the Holy Roman See and the German Emperor be promoted and
advanced; therefore has he caused me, the subject of the Emperor, an
Austrian born, to become the servant of the Elector of Brandenburg. But
the servant has become master, and the Catholic Austrian is Stadtholder in
the Mark, the almighty minister in the land of the heretic. It is so,
because through him this land is to be led back to the true faith and the
Emperor, because through him is to be re-established the endangered
supremacy of the Emperor of Germany! The Protestant Electors would have
exalted themselves against the power of Emperor and empire; with the help
of the Swedes they would have cut up the Holy Roman Empire into a number
of free, independent States, great and small, where Protestants,
Reformers, and Lutherans would have enjoyed as great consideration as the
Catholics, and over which the Emperor would no longer have exercised
control. The Protestant Elector of the Palatinate was to have been changed
into a King, waving his scepter over Catholic Bohemia, and in place of the
little Elector of Brandenburg was to have arisen a mighty Prince, who was
to have broken the power of the German Emperor in the north, and become
the chief and center of Protestant Germany! To that end were they leagued
with the Swedes, to that end was King Gustavus Adolphus to have furnished
help to his cousins and brothers-in-law. But the fates were against them!
In the battle of the White Mountain the Count Palatine lost his Bohemian
throne, in the battle of Luetzen the Swedish King his life, and in the
peace of Prague the Swedes and other enemies of the Emperor a powerful
ally in the Elector of Brandenburg! It was I who alienated the Elector
from the Swedes, who made him again the obedient vassal of his Emperor and
Sovereign. And it shall be I who will make the Mark Brandenburg
imperialist again! For the limbs accommodate themselves to the head, and
if the Prince acknowledges himself a professed Catholic, his subjects will
soon follow suit."

"What! most gracious father, is it possible that the Elector George
William--"

"Hush, hush, my son! who says anything about the Elector George William?
Who thinks of the decaying tree, which can no longer bear fruit, when he
beholds at its side a young, vigorous tree laden with blossoms, rich for
future harvests? My son, I herewith give you my consent to woo the love of
the Princess Charlotte Louise, but I make one condition which you must
solemnly swear to respect: none but a Catholic becomes the wife of my son
John Adolphus."

"None but a Catholic becomes my wife!" cried the young count. "I solemnly
give you my oath to that effect, father."

"And you actually suppose that the Emperor will bestow upon me the same
favor he has conferred upon Fuerstenberg, Lobkowitz, and Liechtenstein?"

"I am empowered to promise it prospectively, most gracious sir. The house
of Austria is grateful, and forgets not that already your father before
you rendered her important services, attending the Emperor with credit in
his wars against the Turks; that you yourself have been through a whole
lifetime true and unswerving in your fidelity to the Emperor's service;
that the Stadtholder in the Mark, and the Grand Master of the Order of St.
John has been ever mindful of his duty to the Emperor."

"I must and shall be ever called a good Imperialist," cried the count
warmly, "and prefer the Emperor's to the Elector's service.[20] Bethlen
Gabor, Prince of Hungary, has well said that the Elector and I are upon
one ship, and that my fortune depends upon the Elector's fortune; but he
shall be proved to have been in error, and we prefer making our voyage in
our own little bark to take passage in the Electoral ship."

"Yes, father, that shall we!" cried the young count joyfully. "You sit at
the helm and give management and direction to the boat. For my part, I
shall so hoist and unfurl the sails that we catch the breeze and bound
swiftly forward!"

"Do so, my son, and always heed the wind as it blows across from the
apartments of the Electress and her princesses, as well as from the robber
nests and dens of the squires and waylayers of the Mark, and from the
fortresses and garrisons. We, too, my son, voyage together in the same
boat; I am the pilot, you unfurl the sails, and upon our flag in
mysterious and invisible colors is inscribed this device: Good
Imperialists, good Catholics!"

"Yes, good Imperialists and good Catholics," replied the young count
energetically. "But, dearest father, let us add besides, quite softly,
good Schwarzenbergians!"

"Yes, my son, that will we. For, in addition to those great and holy
interests, to keep one's own interests a little in view is manly and
justifiable. My heavens! life would have been perfectly hateful and
abominable in this dirty, cheerless Berlin if we had not seen above us a
glittering star, to which we could look up when all was so dismal here
below, which shone upon our path and cheered us when we feared to sink in
the mud and mire. This star, my son, do you know its name?"

"Its name is Fame, its name is Love, _cher pere_."

"Well, for the sake of fame I will put up with love, foolish dreamer. You
may bring it on board our boat as ballast. But if a storm should come and
necessity impel, we shall throw our ballast overboard."

"Dear father, if you do that, you will throw overboard likewise my
happiness and life!" exclaimed Count Adolphus warmly. "If you call love
ballast, then forget not, father, that in this ballast your son's heart is
included."

"Enamored fool, you really have a heart? Do you believe so?"

"I believe so, most noble father, because I feel it, because--"

A hasty knock, thrice repeated, at the door of the antechamber interrupted
him, and in obedience to the Stadtholder's summons, the lackey Balthasar
hurriedly entered.

"Most gracious sir," he said, "it is a courier from the Commandant von
Rochow at Spandow, who desires to speak with your lordship on most urgent
business."

"I am going, most gracious father, I am going," cried the young count,
speedily rising. "I can no longer lay claim to the Stadtholder's precious
time."

"And you have very important affairs of your own to attend to, have you
not?" asked his father. "You have been long enough diplomatist and
politician, and that curious thing, whose possession you boast, the heart,
will now assert its rights?"

The young man laughed and pressed the count's extended hand tenderly to
his lips. Then he nodded once more affectionately to his father, and
bounded lightly through the room to the side door, through which he
vanished. Count Adam Schwarzenberg looked thoughtfully after his son.
"Strange!" he murmured. "Is he acting a comedy, or is it truth? Does he
prudently pretend to have a heart, or has he one in reality? Well, never
mind. The courier from Spandow!"

In answer to the count's loud call a huntsman in dirty, dusty uniform made
his appearance from the antechamber, and, making a military salute,
remained standing near the door.

"What news have you for me?" asked Count Schwarzenberg, striding toward
him. "Where are your letters and dispatches?"

"I crave pardon, your excellency, but I have no letters or dispatches. The
Commandant von Rochow sent me with a verbal message, and entreats
forgiveness in that haste allowed him no time for writing. I have only to
announce that, even at the instant of my departure, the Electoral Prince
was making his solemn entry into Spandow. All ranks and conditions of
people from the region round about had joined the Electoral Prince, and
followed him, in carriages, on horseback, and on foot. The commandant was
greatly amazed to witness so much pomp, and hastened to array himself in
parade uniform in order to go and meet the Electoral Prince with his corps
of officers."

"That is all you have to communicate to me?"

"All, your excellency."

"Then ride back again, and return to the commandant my warmest thanks for
his welcome message."

"Yes," repeated the count, when the courier had taken leave, "yes, this is
a welcome message and by ----! I shall derive profit from it."

"Ho, Balthasar, Balthasar! Is the commander of police in the antechamber?"

"Your highness, he has been there an hour already."

"Bid him come in. There you are, Master Brandt! Well, listen! Send all
your secret friends and emissaries through the city, privately inform the
citizens, the magistrates, the merchants, the whole inhabitants in a body,
that the Electoral Prince will arrive here in from three to four hours,
and that it would surely be a right great pleasure to the Elector and his
wife if they would prepare him a public reception, and go a little way on
the road to meet him. Say, moreover, that it would assuredly prepare a
very great joy for the Electoral Prince if they would illuminate the city
this evening, and if this were done voluntarily, and without suggestion,
the Electoral Prince would be forced to admit how very glad the people of
Berlin are to welcome him, and how much they hope for from his return.
Excite the populace properly, that their houses be brightly illuminated,
and that they may give great demonstrations of joy. Dispatch your agents
everywhere, and show me to-day for once that you know how to execute my
orders punctually, and are a worthy successor of my dear, recently
deceased Dietrich, your predecessor in office."

"Your excellency, I shall do all that lies in my power, and I doubt not
but that I shall succeed in deserving your honor's approbation. I only
venture to remark, that many of the citizens will find it exceedingly
difficult to procure the candles or lamps needed for the illumination, for
the poverty and distress are very great, and it would perhaps be well to
aid the people and furnish them with the candles for illuminating."

"Do so, Master Brandt," cried the count, smiling. "I fully empower you to
purchase tallow candles for distribution, to the amount of a hundred
dollars; only, take care that the people actually light and burn them up,
and do not consume them as dainties these hard times. And one thing more,
Brandt! It would be pleasant to me if you would excite a few people
against me and his highness the Elector, while you tell them various bad
things about me, and attribute it as a crime to the Elector that he is so
devoted to me. You might then urge on to the palace such people as you
have stirred up and goaded, so that, as soon as the Electoral Prince
arrives, they might shout with loud distinct voices: 'Long live the
Electoral Prince! Long live our savior and deliverer! Down with the
Catholics. Away with Schwarzenberg!' You can at least persuade ten or
fifteen to do this, and promise them that they shall have money to buy a
good drink if they shout right loudly and clearly. Well, why do you smile
so all of a sudden, man?"

"Pardon me, your highness, but when I entered upon my office, four weeks
ago, your excellency urged it upon me as a stringent duty to report truly
to your honor, not only what happens, but what is the mood of the people
here. Does this command always have validity, your excellency?"

"It has validity for the whole term of your service, Master Brandt, or,
rather, you will only remain chief of police so long as I am convinced
that you always report to me the full truth in all things, without
reserve. Speak! What would you say?"

"Your highness, I would only say that it is not necessary to stir up the
people to give utterance to such infamous and disrespectful outcries
against your excellency. They will do so of their own accord, and if I
should not pick up the first who raised such a cry, have him arrested, and
carried off, then immediately would twenty fellows be found, without any
prompting from me, to shout exactly the words which your excellency would
gladly hear."

"You mean the words: 'Away with the Catholics! Down with Schwarzenberg'?"

"I beg your honor's pardon, but those are the words I mean."

The count laughed clearly. "Well," he said, "so much the better! We will
be spared then some trouble and expense, which is always a very pleasant
thing. But hear, Sir Master of Police! If we let the fellows shout to-day,
it does not follow that we shall not administer fitting punishment
to-morrow. Mark the shouters very narrowly, and to-morrow, when the
merriment is over, have them arrested and thrust into prison for a couple
of weeks!"

The chief of police shrugged his shoulders. "I crave pardon, your
excellency; that is no punishment for the rabble in these days. They are
glad when they are put away at Oxenhead, or here in the castle prison,
receiving food and lodgings free of cost, and many a one, who formerly
lived in honor and affluence, would to-day be gladly found guilty of some
fault, for the sake of being arrested and supported in prison at the
expense of the state."

"Well, then we will not gratify the shouting mob by punishing them with
imprisonment, but cause the jailer to administer a sound cudgeling to each
one of them, and then let the fellows go again. Make good speed now,
Brandt, for I expect the Electoral Prince here in a few hours, and if the
people are not properly notified, he will make his entry before they have
taken off their rags and donned their holiday attire. Make haste, and let
us have this evening a right brilliant illumination. Farewell, Master
Brandt!"

The chief of police departed, and by a loud whistle Schwarzenberg called
the lackey to him.

"One of the grooms must take horse," was his command.

"He must ride out on the road to Spandow about a quarter of a mile. There
he is to halt, and wait until the Electoral Prince arrives with his
attendants. As soon as he has seen him, he is to come back at full speed
and make the announcement to me."

"All necessary preliminaries are arranged," said Schwarzenberg, when he
found himself again alone. "Now let the Electoral Prince come on, we are
ready to receive him. There will be a hard struggle, but I have been
victorious over all my enemies for twenty years, and shall probably
conquer the little Electoral Prince too! Now a hurried toilet, and then
to the Elector, to open the skirmish in his neighborhood! Ah, we shall
see, my young Prince! For you shouts the rabble of Berlin, for me speaks
the Elector! We shall see which of us two has built upon the sand!"




III.--THE HOME-COMING.


"May I be so bold as to come in, most noble sir?" asked Count
Schwarzenberg, as he opened the door leading into the Electoral cabinet
and thrust in his head, encircled by a hundred beautifully arranged curls.

"Behold, there is Adam Schwarzenberg!" cried Elector George William,
wheeling his chair from the writing table. "Why do you ask, count, since
you know that you are always privileged to enter unannounced? Come closer,
and be heartily welcome!"

And the Elector leaned both his arms upon the wooden aims of his chair,
making an effort to rise. But the count was at his side in a moment,
gently forcing him back into his seat, while at the same time he half bent
one knee and imprinted a kiss upon the Elector's right hand.

"If your grace treats me with such formality, and rises on my account,
then I must believe that you love me no longer," he said, with soft,
insinuating voice. "But you well know, beloved master, that I could not
live without your love, and that existence itself would seem gloomy and
dark to me if the star of your favor and love should cease to shine upon
it."

"Live, my Adam, live merrily, then, and joyously, for you well know that I
love you," replied George William, nodding to the count in most friendly
manner. "And how could it be otherwise, when I know that I can depend upon
your love, and that you are the only one truly interested in my not being
called away yet awhile, and in having me tarry a little longer upon earth.
Come, my friend, sit down. Draw up your armchair close to my side--no,
opposite to me, that I may look at you. I love dearly to behold your
handsome, noble face, and then console myself with the thought that, after
all, the Elector of Brandenburg can not be such a pitiful little Prince,
since such a proud, distinguished lord as Count Schwarzenberg is his
minister."

"Say his servant, his slave, his humble subject, most gracious sir! Yes,
look at me, my much-loved master, and read in my countenance that I am
devoted to you with my whole heart and soul. Ah! who knows how much longer
you will read that in my face, and how soon it may come to pass that poor
Adam Schwarzenberg will be thrust aside and no longer find a place in your
heart! Oh, dearest sir, when I think of that, I feel perfectly wretched
and inconsolable, and I would rather hide my head and weep and mourn, than
go smilingly to meet the joyful countenance of him who will come to
supplant me in your affections!"

"Nobody shall do that, Adam, and I know not, indeed, who could be bold
enough even to attempt it."

"Most gracious sir, the Electoral Prince will attempt it! He who, when a
mere little child, was my opponent. He, who has been brought up by his
mother and other relatives to mistrust me. He will grudge me the smallest
place in his father's heart, and will do everything to contest it with
me!"

"But he will not succeed, be assured of that, my Adam, he will not succeed
in it. I only know too well that in you I have a faithful, devoted
servant, in the Electoral Prince a rebellious and refractory son; that
with you all is bound up in my life; with him all in my death!"

"Oh, no, your highness, no, it is impossible that the Electoral Prince
could be so heartless and degenerate as to wish for his father's death.
No, I must take the part of the Electoral Prince against you. You accuse
him falsely, most gracious sir; he surely loves you, and it is only his
ambition and youthful arrogance that sometimes lead him to do what is not
right, and what surely he would not do if he only reflected better. Out of
youthful presumption he undertook, despite your commands to the contrary,
to remain longer at The Hague, and even to send back the Chamberlain von
Schlieben, whom you had dispatched to him with strict orders to bring him
home. And only his stormy, boundless ambition is at fault now in inducing
him to appear here in rather an unbecoming manner. But you must not be
angry with him for it, dear sir, and on that very account have I come to
you to-day, to beg and implore you most earnestly not to admit any
feelings of resentment into your mind this day, which is to restore to you
the Electoral Prince."

"He is coming, then, at last?" cried the Elector, breathing again. "He has
finally had the goodness to heed our oft-repeated commands, and
condescended to return home? But this return is, as I feel, likely enough
to prepare renewed vexation for me, and in your magnanimity you come to me
only to sweeten a little the pill which my son gives me to swallow. Speak
out openly, Adam, and keep back nothing! What is it? What has the
Electoral Prince done?"

"Oh, your highness, I am convinced that he means nothing bad, and has no
design of vexing you. He naturally rejoices greatly on his return to his
future dominions, and consequently enjoys the congratulations of his
future subjects, and gladly allows them to receive him with demonstrations
of delight."

"Do they so, his future subjects?" inquired the Elector, and his hands,
swollen by gout, grasped convulsively the arms of his easychair. "Do they
welcome him with rejoicings as their future sovereign?"

"Yes, most gracious sir, it is plainly to be seen how closely the people
cling to the electoral house of Hohenzollern, and how they sympathize in
every fortunate event occurring in that family. From the moment that the
Electoral Prince crossed the boundaries of the Mark, the inhabitants of
every village and town have joyfully poured forth to meet him; his journey
is a genuine triumphal procession, and the reigning Sovereign of the
country could not be received with more honor and delight than is the
young Electoral Prince!"

"Me, their reigning Sovereign, me, they did not receive with rejoicings,"
exclaimed the Elector, whose face grew crimson with excitement and
passion. "My journey was anything but a triumphal procession, resembling
much more a funeral, so quiet and still was everything on my way. Nowhere
did I hear a joyful welcome, nowhere did the people come forth to meet me,
and as at Koenigsberg they permitted me to depart without greeting or
acclamation, so here at Berlin they allowed me to enter without a sign of
welcome or congratulation. I will now confess to you alone that I was much
mortified by this, although I did not complain of it. I comforted myself
by reflecting that the times were bad and depressing, and that in their
afflictions the people could not even present a glad, cheerful countenance
to the father of their country. But now it falls to my lot to hear that
they _can_ make merry and rejoice, and that they have only saved up the
joy in their hearts to bestow it upon the return home of my son and heir."

"Pardon, your highness, but I believe that we accuse the poor people
wrongfully if we imagine that they are now acting thus of their own free
motion, when they were so quiet on the arrival of their beloved Sovereign.
No, the poor, unhappy people would have been equally silent at this time
if they had not been stirred up to make noisy demonstrations of joy, if
they had not been paid for it. It is otherwise wholly incredible and not
to be thought of that the populace should have prepared such a triumph for
the young home-returning lord. It is plainly to be seen that all has been
settled and arranged beforehand. For it is not merely the offscourings of
the streets, but burghers, magistrates, and officials, who have extended a
welcome to the Electoral Prince. At Spandow, for example, all the
citizens, with the magistracy at their head, issued from the town to pay
their respects to him--yes, even Commandant von Rochow has found it
necessary to join in the universal rejoicings, and has ridden out with his
officers in their dress uniforms to do honor to the Prince's arrival. Here
at Berlin, too, your own residence, all is uproar and excitement. They are
putting on their holiday suits, and making ready to meet the Electoral
Prince. That proves quite clearly that his speedy approach to the city has
been already announced to the citizens, and communicated to the
magistrates even before any tidings of the sort had reached your highness
or myself, the Stadtholder in the Mark. For as soon as I obtained this
intimation from Colonel von Rochow, I hastened hither to bring to your
highness the glad news of your son's return home, and on the way I was
stopped by whole crowds of festive men and women hastening to the suburb
Spandow, to plant themselves near the Pomegranate Bridge and along the
meadow dike.[21] Indeed, it strikes me that I even saw some gentlemen of
municipal authority going the same way in full official dress."

"And you suffered this?" asked the Elector angrily. "You allowed them to
prepare such an insult and affront as to do for the son what they have not
found needful to do for the father? But I will not bear it; I shall not be
humiliated by my own son. You are the Stadtholder in the Mark, you must
provide against their offering me any cause of vexation. Send out your
officers, Sir Stadtholder, to clear the streets of this gaping multitude,
send the magistrates home, and order the people to remain quietly within
their houses, to do their work and not to lounge about the streets."

"My much-loved lord and Elector, I sue for a favor in behalf of your most
faithful servant, your poor Adam. I beg you out of consideration for me to
retract these stringent orders, for I should be ruined if I were to
execute them. Throughout the whole Mark, yea, throughout all Germany, they
would raise the cry of murder against me, would everywhere blazon it, that
Count Schwarzenberg is so inimically disposed toward the Electoral Prince
that he would not even grant him an honorable reception on his return home
after an absence of three years. Oh, most gracious sir, you will not
increase yet more the number of my enemies and opposers, you will not
excite public opinion yet more against me, and render it more favorably
disposed to the Electoral Prince! If we now forcibly restrain these
testimonials of pleasure on the part of the people, then will it be said
that I misuse my power and am jealous of the Electoral Prince; that I am
seeking to thrust him aside from his exalted position. If, on the other
hand, it is seen how joyfully I acquiesce in the Electoral Prince's
reception with acclamations everywhere, then will they be forced to
acknowledge that it is not I who meet the young Prince with hatred, but
that I willingly concede to him all honors and triumphs."

"It is true," muttered the Elector, "they would surely suspect and accuse
you, and it would not mend matters to say that I myself gave orders that
the Electoral Prince be allowed to come home quietly."

"God forbid that such a thing should be said!" cried Schwarzenberg. "No,
rather let the whole world censure and condemn me--rather let it be said
that I have acted as the spiteful and unworthy enemy of the Electoral
Prince--than that they should dare even to cast one shadow upon my beloved
master's heart. What matters it that they calumniate me, if they only
venture not to attack and suspect your highness?"

"They shall not slander and suspect you, my Adam," said the Elector,
offering him his hand. "For your sake let us suffer the Electoral Prince
to come hither in triumph. But we will remember it against him, and our
love for him will not be thereby increased."

"Yet I entreat your highness to receive your son kindly and graciously,"
pleaded Schwarzenberg with insinuating voice. "It is better, your
highness, to try to chain him to you by goodness and love than by
strictness and severity to repel him yet more, and force him to join the
party of your opponents. It is a great and powerful party, and I well know
that it is their plan to place the Electoral Prince at their head, and
through him to attain their ends."

"And what are their ends?" asked the Elector, with lowering brow.

The count bent over closer to his ear, as if he feared letting even the
walls hear what he had to say.

"Their ends are a transference of the government, and when this is
effected a revolt from Emperor and empire, and a league with the Swedes
and all Protestant German princes against Emperor and empire."

"The transference of the government? That means an insurrection, a
revolution. They would hurl me from my throne and ensconce my son there?"

"They hope that in your distress you will do, gracious sir, what your
blessed father did."

"Abdicate!" cried the Elector angrily. "Abdicate in favor of my son?"

"In favor of the Electoral Prince, who has grown up in Holland to become a
promising Prince, a general of the future, a brilliant leader of the
Protestant Church, and of whom his followers say that he will be a second
Gustavus Adolphus!"

"A second plague--a second source of danger to myself!" screamed the
Elector, striking with his clinched fist upon the arm of his chair. "It
was not enough that my brother-in-law Gustavus Adolphus brought me into
trouble and distress, and caused the Emperor's wrath to flame forth
against me, so that I was really afraid that I would share the fate of my
cousin the Margrave of Jaegerndorf, whom the Emperor put under his ban,
declaring that he had forfeited his margraviate, and giving it over as a
feudal tenure to Prince Liechstenstein! I was only saved then from a like
terrible fate by your intercession and fidelity! It was you who, by your
address and eloquence, softened the Emperor's resentment against me,
induced him to pardon me, and afterward brought about the peace of Prague,
which reconciled the Emperor to me. Yet it was not enough to have gone
through those times of anxiety and distress, they must be now renewed
through my only son! In him am I to find a second Gustavus Adolphus, to
plunge me into new perils and bring down upon me the Emperor's avenging
wrath? But it shall not be--I solemnly swear, it shall not be! I will
_not_ involve my land in new dangers and calamities of war. I will _not_
depart from my neutrality. I _will_ have peace--peace with the Emperor,
peace for my poor people, and for their unhappy Prince! But I shall not
act as my father did, and prepare a pleasure for my son by resigning
sovereignty and rule in my lifetime and becoming the servant and subject
of my own son! Before me shall he bow--me shall he acknowledge to be his
lord so long as I live, and never while I breathe shall I cease to lay to
his charge these hours of pain and vexation. I am Elector and ruler, and
he is nothing further than my son and subject, my successor when I die,
but not my coregent while I live! Count Adam Schwarzenberg, I charge you
to stand courageously at my side, to remain zealous in my service, and to
direct your attention especially to unraveling all the arts and wiles, the
plots and schemes of my son and his abettors; to give me always
information on these points, to keep nothing in the background, and not to
conceal anything from me merely to save me from vexation. Will you promise
and swear so to manage and act, my Adam?"

"I swear and promise it, and in affirmation will my Prince allow me to
give him my hand upon it?" asked Schwarzenberg, laying his own right hand
in the outstretched one of the Elector. "You will find in me a true
servant and guardian of your sacred person and your throne, and he who
would supplant or harm you must first step over the corpse of Count
Schwarzenberg! But now, most gracious sir, I beseech you not to be
overpowered by your feelings of indignation, and to be amiable and
condescending toward the home-coming Electoral Prince; for it is sometimes
very necessary to wear a mask and assume an appearance of harmlessness and
unconcern in order the better to fathom the designs of one's enemies, and
to make them feel secure, that they may the more easily betray themselves."

"Yes, I will do so," said George William, sighing. "I will swallow down my
rage, although it would be a relief to me to vent it a little, and to show
my son that I know him and am not deceived by him. But what noise is that
without, and who is knocking so violently at the door?"

This door was now impetuously torn open, and the Electress Sophy Elizabeth
entered, with beaming eyes and features lighted up by joy, while on high
she held an open letter in her hand.

"George!" she exclaimed--"George, our son is coming! Our dear Frederick
William is coming!"

"Well, I rather think he ought to have been here a half year ago," growled
the Elector, "and we have been expecting him several months already."

"But he is here now, my husband, he is actually here now. Only see what a
good, affectionate son he is! He has halted at the inn of the Spandow
suburb, merely to forewarn us of his arrival. It was not enough for him
that he had sent us a messenger with a verbal communication, no, he must
send us a written salutation, and such kind, cordial words as he has
written. There, read, my husband, just read!"

She handed the paper to the Elector, but he did not take it.

"Is the letter directed to me?" he asked.

"No, to me, to his mother he wrote, because he knew how happy it would
make me, and how heartily I love him. Read, George!"

"I never read letters that are not directed to myself," said the Elector,
turning away.

"Well, then, I will read it to you!" cried the Electress, who in the
fullness of her joy heeded as little the ill humor of the Elector as she
did the presence of Count Schwarzenberg, who upon her entrance had
modestly withdrawn to one of the deep window recesses. "Yes, I will read
it to you," she repeated, "for you must hear what our son writes."

And with a voice trembling from joy and agitation she read:

"My gracious, revered Mother: Before I enter my dear birthplace and return
home to my beloved parents and sisters, I would announce my arrival to
your highnesses, that you may not be alarmed by my unexpected coming, and
that I may not come inopportunely to his grace, my father. I enjoy greatly
getting home, and all the testimonials of love and sympathy which I have
received ever since I set foot within my father's territories, and they
will remain indelibly graven on my heart. I beg your grace to present my
most submissive respects to my gracious father and Elector, and to speak a
good word for me to him, that his grace may no longer cherish resentment
against me on account of my long stay abroad, and that he may favorably
incline toward and receive me, and be convinced that I am and shall ever
remain the grateful and obedient son of my venerated parents.

"FREDERICK WILLIAM."

"Well" asked the Electress, "are not those affectionate, glorious words,
and does not your fatherly heart rejoice in them? But just hear, hear, how
they shout and hurrah! It is the good people of Berlin! They are coming to
the palace to see our son!"

Again was the door through which the Electress had entered violently
thrown open, and two young ladies entered. Their lovely and blooming faces
beamed with happiness and their eyes glistened with joy.

"He comes! Our brother is coming!" they cried, rushing forward toward
their parents. "Just come to the window, that we may see him, for he is
riding around the corner into the pleasure garden"

"Are you all, then, wholly beside yourselves, and gone stark mad?" cried
the Elector passionately, while he rose from his armchair and proudly drew
himself up. "Who gives these two young ladies the privilege of entering my
cabinet thus, unannounced and without ceremony? Just answer me one thing,
Miss Charlotte Louise, did I permit you to come here?"

"No, dearest father," said the Princess timidly, casting down her large,
dark eyes, "no, your grace has not indeed permitted us to do so, but we
did not think of that in the joy of our hearts, and because from here is
the best lookout upon the pleasure grounds, we--"

"We thought," interrupted the younger sister, who had hardly attained her
fifteenth year--"we thought our dear papa, his Electoral Grace, would
forgive us and look out with us to catch a sight of our beloved brother.
And were we not right, dear papa, were we mistaken in thinking so, and
will your grace not allow your little Sophie Hedwig to lead you to the
great corner window, that with mamma you may have a view of dear Frederick
William?"

The Princess had approached her father, and, tenderly and coaxingly
stroking his cheeks with her little white hand, looked up at him with such
a gentle, pleading glance in her blue eyes as George William had never
hitherto been known to resist. But this time the eyes of his favorite had
no power over the Elector's heart, and indignantly he repelled her
encircling arms.

"Let me alone with your 'dear Frederick William,' you saucy piece!" cried
he passionately. "You should at all events have waited until I had given
you leave to appear here. If, in your childish giddiness, you knew no
better, yet your sister Charlotte Louise, at the more mature age of
twenty, ought to have arrived at years of discretion, and known what was
proper."

"No one knows better what is becoming than the fair young Princess
Charlotte Louise, most gracious sir," said Count Adam Schwarzenberg,
issuing from the window recess and greeting the Princess with a
reverential bow. "In the whole country the Electoral Princess is honored
as a brilliant model of fine manners and noble demeanor, and every one
feels himself blessed and honored who is permitted to approach her. And is
not the young lady right even now, dear sir, in coming here with her young
sister? It is surely proper and well for the united Electoral family to be
seen by the nation as they look upon the dear son and brother, whose
return gladdens their hearts?"

"Well, for aught I care, she may be right," muttered the Elector, "and I
will grant my wife and daughters leave to look out of the corner window.
But, meanwhile, where is the Electress?"

"Her grace is standing there before the corner window and gazing down so
earnestly upon the square that I have not yet been so fortunate as to be
allowed to pay my respects to her highness."

"For if the whole world had been assembled together she would have seen
nothing but the Electoral Prince," called out the Elector, shrugging his
shoulders. "Go to her, Adam, and present my compliments to her. Tell her
that I resign my cabinet to her and my daughters, and will withdraw into
my sleeping apartment until this uproar has subsided."

"Oh, do not do so, most honored father," cried the younger Princess. "Stay
here, and look out of the window with us."

"Do so, your Electoral Highness," pleaded the count, softly and quickly.
"Grant the people the light of your countenance."

"Well, so be it, then," sighed George William. "Call the servants,
Charlotte Louise, that they may roll me to the window."

"As if I could not have the privilege of acting as servant to your
highness, and as if my arm were not strong enough to guide your highness's
chair. Permit me, gracious sir, to roll you to the window."

"And permit me to help your excellency," said Princess Charlotte Louise,
smiling, while she seized one of the arms of the fauteuil.

"Now truly this is a very lofty equipage," cried George William, as the
fauteuil rolled along through the spacious apartment. "The Stadtholder in
the Mark and a Princess of the blood drawing my equipage."

"But what a man sits in it!" said Count Schwarzenberg. "A duke of Prussia,
of Pomerania, of Cleves, an Elector of Brandenburg, and--"

"Hurrah, hurrah!" sounded up from below in a chorus of hundreds of voices.
"Hurrah! long live the Electoral Prince!"

"He comes! Oh, my son, my son!" cried the Electress. "He comes! George,
our son--"

She had turned round and her eye met the count's gaze, who immediately
bowed low and reverentially before her. The Electress only thanked him
with a slight nod of her head, and herself sprang forward to push the
fauteuil into the window niche. Then, with trembling hands, she opened
both window shutters and beckoned her daughters to her side.

"He must see us all, _all_" she said. "With one glance he must take in
father, mother, and sisters."

"And my most faithful and best-beloved servant, the Stadtholder in the
Mark!" cried the Elector. "Come, Adam, place yourself close beside me,
that the picture may be complete, and my son may see us all at once."

Boundless public rejoicings seemed to be in progress below; a loud,
long-sustained, ever-renewed cheering rolled over the square like the roar
of the sea.

"My son, my beloved son!" cried the Electress, leaning far out of the
window and stretching out both arms toward the young man, who had just
emerged from the shrubbery, on horseback and followed by a brilliant train.

"Brother, dear brother!" called out the two Princesses, leaning out of the
other side of the window, and waving their handkerchiefs in token of
welcome. Behind them sat the Elector in his great armchair, quite
forgotten and quite hidden from view by his wife and daughters, not at all
visible to either the people or his son.

"I shall remember this hour, oh! to be sure, I shall remember it," he
said, with trembling lips; "my son shall atone to me for this hour of
shame and mortification. I--"

The huzzaing and shouting below drowned his words; they came pouring in at
the open window like the pealing tones of an organ, like the roar of the
sea, like claps of thunder.

The Elector could no longer bear it. He looked up with glances of entreaty
at the count, who, drawn up to his full height, stood proud and commanding
at the side of his chair, his sharp eyes piercing down into the court over
the ladies' heads.

"Ah, Adam," sighed George William, "you, too, have forgotten me, and are
only looking upon him who is coming!"

But, however softly these words had been spoken, the count heard them, and
tenderly he leaned over the Elector, and seized his hand to kiss it.

"I am looking at the newcomer," he whispered, "but I never forget you, and
my heart can never be unmindful of the love and fidelity it owes you."

"Hurrah! Long live the Electoral Prince!" was borne up in tumultuous
uproar from the pleasure garden. "Long live the Electoral Prince! Long
live the Elector! Hurrah for the Elector George William!"

"They are calling for you, my husband, they call for you!" said the
Electress. "Will you not show yourself to our dear people?"

"I ought, indeed, to be thankful to the dear people," returned her
husband. "The dear people have at least reminded the Electress that I
still exist, although she had crowded me back and rendered me entirely
invisible behind her. Yes, I will show myself to the people, as they still
think of me in the midst of their merriment. Step back from the window,
ladies, make room for your Elector and lord! And you, Count Schwarzenberg,
come and give me your arm; I would lean upon you!"

The count willingly offered the Elector his arm. Powerfully drawn up by
him, the Elector rose from his seat, and, leaning upon his favorite,
stepped close up to the window. The shouts of joy were for a moment
hushed; perhaps because the Electoral Prince had just ridden into the
palace yard, perhaps because the ladies' retreat from the window was
considered by the people a sign that the Elector was about to appear. And
now, within the window frame, was seen the clumsy, broad figure of the
Elector; now was seen his large head, sparsely covered with gray hairs,
his pale, swollen face, prematurely old, with its melancholy blue eyes and
thin, colorless lips, round which played not the slightest smile. In the
handsome, powerful, and youthful Electoral Prince the people had just
joyfully greeted Brandenburg's future, and now from the window of that
gray, gloomy, wretched old palace looked out upon them the hopelessness of
Brandenburg's present. Like gazing upon embodied care and joyless
resignation it was, to behold the Elector's grave, forbidding aspect, and
before it the joyous cry upon the people's lips was silenced. They stared
up at the window in dumb horror, and only here and there sounded cries
from compassionate or bribed mouths: "Long live the Elector! Long live
George William!" And like a dying echo came back the answer on this side
and on that, feebly and slowly: "Long live the Elector! Long live George
William!"

But now the people caught sight of the tall, stately form, in gold
embroidered velvet suit, with the star of brilliants glittering on its
breast, which stood beside the Elector; now they recognized that haughty
countenance with its glance of sovereign contempt, its smile of lofty
condescension upon the thin, scornful lips, and a disturbance was
perceptible among the multitudes, as when a sudden gust of wind agitates
the waves of the sea and lashes them up into fury and rage. All at once
there came thundering up to the window, shrieked, howled, and hissed by
the crowd: "Down with the Catholics! Down with Schwarzenberg! Down with
the Imperialist!"

A deep flush overspread the Elector's face. He hastily stepped back from
the window, and looked almost timidly up at the count, whose countenance
meanwhile had not for a moment lost its proud, smiling serenity. He seemed
not to have heard the screams of the mob.

"They would vex me to death, therefore do they scream so!" cried the
Elector; "they know my regard for Schwarzenberg, and therefore are they so
set against him and insult him, in order to insult me through him!"

"My parents, my beloved parents!" cried a clear, rich voice, and a young
man tore open the doors of the Electoral cabinet, revealing a tall,
slender figure and a noble face, with sparkling eyes and smiling lips. The
Electress uttered one scream of rapture, and hastened to meet her son with
outstretched arms. He threw himself upon her breast, greeting her with
phrases of fond endearment, and when he lifted himself from his mother's
heart there were the two sisters to embrace their dear and only brother,
to greet him with affectionate words of love, and to hold him long, long
in their encircling arms. The Elector had again sunk back into his
armchair. His "faithful servant," Count Schwarzenberg, had again rolled
him back into the middle of the apartment and stationed himself
immediately in the rear.

With unpropitious frowns had the Elector witnessed the first tender
greeting exchanged between the Electress and her son. Now, when his
sisters in their turn engrossed him and the mother stood looking on in
transport, now the Elector turned round to Schwarzenberg, and an
expression of deep bitterness spoke in every feature.

"My son seems not to know that I am yet in the world," he said, with
quick, complaining tone of voice. "Had you not better remind him of it for
decency's sake, Adam?"

But at this moment the Electoral Prince freed himself from his sisters'
arms, perceived the Elector, and sprang forward to him with open arms to
throw himself on his heart. But, when he got a nearer view of his father's
dark countenance, he let his arms drop, bent his knee before the Elector,
and grasped one hand to imprint upon it a reverential kiss.

"My dear father, my most gracious Sovereign and Elector!" cried he in
tones full of tenderness, "I beg your pardon that my first word, my first
salutation was not given to you. You see, I was always a foolish boy, whom
my mother spoils, and who delights in being spoiled."

"I beg your pardon, my husband," said the Electress, approaching her
husband; "I alone was to blame that our son did not come first to you, as
was his duty, and pay his first respects to his father and Sovereign. I
stopped him, and you must not impute as a fault to the son what was
occasioned by a mother's tenderness."

The Elector made no reply, but looked down with moody resentment upon the
Electoral Prince, who still knelt before him.

"My much-loved, gracious father," cried the Prince, "I once more beg your
pardon, and pray you kindly to forget if I have hitherto often given you
ground for annoyance, and have not appeared here immediately on your first
command. I see my error, and I promise, my dear, kind father, that I have
returned home as a penitent, affectionate son, as an obedient subject,
whose earnest endeavor shall be to deserve the forgiveness and good
opinion of his lord and father, and to live wholly and solely in
subjection to his will. Only bid me welcome, too, my most revered sir;
bestow upon your son one word of welcome and fatherly love."

The Prince glanced so tenderly at his father, there lay so much feeling in
his handsome, expressive countenance, that the Elector could not resist
him, but, in spite of himself, felt his heart stirred by tenderness and
emotion. He bowed down to him, a rare smile lit up his face, and he was
just opening his lips to greet his son with words of friendliness and
love, when the shrieking and shouting down in the pleasure garden, which
had ceased for some time (probably because their exhausted throats
required rest), burst forth again with redoubled violence.

"Away with the Catholics! Down with Schwarzenberg! Long live the Electoral
Prince. Down with Schwarzenberg!" came up with thundering impetuosity.

The friendly words died upon the Elector's lips, and the short sunshine of
his smile vanished under a cloud of displeasure.

"It seems, sir," he said, "as if your arrival were a real jubilee for the
low rabble, who have assembled down there in the pleasure grounds, and as
if your arrival were to be the cause of much vexation to me. What
seditious, scandalous words are those shouted by those wretches?"

"I do not know, I did not hear them," said the Electoral Prince quickly.

"My whole attention was concentrated upon y father's lips, waiting to hear
one gracious word of welcome!"

"The mob saved me that trouble!" cried the Elector. They cut me off from
speech with their 'Long live the electoral Prince!' What need is there for
a further welcome from your old father?"

"I need it much," replied the Electoral Prince, with low, melancholy
voice. "I need a kind, gracious word from my father, on returning home
after so long an absence; and it would seem to me as if my whole future,
my whole life were under a cloud if I lacked the blessing of your love,
the sunshine of your favor."

"My son knows how to arrange his words prettily," said the Elector,
shrugging his shoulders; "it is very observable that he has become quite a
fine, elegant gentleman; who will find but little to his taste among us,
and who will suit us just as little! But what are those people forever
shouting?" said the Elector, interrupting himself, while he rose
impulsively from his armchair, thus obliging the Prince to rise from his
knees. "What infamous hubbub and howling is this, and what do you villains
want of us?"

"Nothing further, most noble Elector," replied Count Schwarzenberg, to
whom the Elector had turned with his query--"nothing further than that
your honor drive me away, nothing further than that you dismiss the hated
minister, whom they abhor, simply because he is a Catholic and not a
Reformer, and because he is named Schwarzenberg and not Rochow or Quitzow,
nor blessed with some country bumpkin's title."

"I will rout this pack of vagabonds!" cried the Elector. "Let them dare
just once more to let such an opprobrious, insulting shout be heard!"

And, quite forgetting his weakness and his limb so painfully swollen with
gout, the Elector went rapidly to the still open corner window, and,
leaning far out of it, lifted up his hand, commanding quiet. The people
took this inclination of the body, this movement of the hand, for a token
of grace, for a kind salutation on the part of their Sovereign, perhaps
even for a granting of their demand. They roared aloud with delight, waved
aloft their hats and caps, their arms and handkerchiefs, and cried and
whooped and hurrahed: "Long live the Elector! Long live George William!
Long live the Electoral Prince!"

The Elector stepped back and shut the window so violently that the little
panes of glass, framed in lead, fairly rattled.

"Frantic populace!" he growled, "they mix up a wretched salad of cheers
and curses, mingle weeds with their herbs, and fancy that we will find
this devilish compound pleasing to our palates! We shall remember them for
it, and--"

"Most gracious sir!" cried Count Schwarzenberg, with radiant countenance,
approaching the Elector--"most gracious sir, in this blessed hour of our
beloved Electoral Prince's return, I have a favor to ask of your highness.
His grace has just greeted me so amiably, so condescendingly, that he has
caused my heart to overflow with joy, and I feel the strongest desire to
give expression to this joy. The return of the Electoral Prince is just as
propitious an event for me as, for the Electoral family, and for all your
subjects it is a festive occasion which can not be sufficiently honored,
and therefore I entreat your highness to permit me to celebrate it at my
house also, and to gratify me by being present yourself at this _fete_,
with all the other members of your exalted family."

The Elector looked upon his minister with an expression of joyful
tenderness, and then turned his glance upon the Electoral Prince, who
stood silent, and with lowered eyelids, beside his mother and sisters.

"Well, what say you to it, sir?" asked George William. "Do you accept the
invitation to the feast?"

"I, Electoral Lord?" asked the Prince, astonished. "It is not for me to
accept, or to say anything. I only await the decision of your highness,
and now allow myself to remark that I shall ever feel honored by an
invitation from the Stadtholder in the Mark, and that no one can have a
higher appreciation of his services and a greater respect for his
statesman-like experience and wisdom than myself."

"He knows how to speak, does he not, count?" asked the Elector, indicating
his son by a quick nod of the head.

"Well, since it depends on my decision, I shall gladly extend to you my
leave to celebrate the Electoral Prince's return by a little merrymaking,
were it only that the good-for-nothing people of Berlin may see that we
and our family are devoted to Count Schwarzenberg now as before, and that
their pitiful howls have had no influence upon us and our determinations.
Yes, we will come to your party, Adam, we accept your invitation cordially
and affectionately."

"I thank my most gracious lord for this act of favor and condescension,"
cried the count, pressing the Elector's proffered hand to his lips. "Will
your highness extend your favor by appointing the day on which so
distinguished an honor is to befall my house?"

"Well, that you may not have time to make too great preparations, and put
us to shame by the splendor of your _fete_, we will allow you but a short
respite. To-day is Wednesday, the eighteenth of June, we therefore appoint
Sunday, the twenty-second of June, for your festival."

"Be it then on Sunday, a sunny day truly for me and for my house," cried
Count Schwarzenberg. "My son, too, will do himself the honor to
participate in the joys of the _fete_, which your highness will do me the
favor to give in my house, for he has returned from his journey, and will
this very day petition for leave to present himself."

A fugitive glance from the count strayed across to the ladies, while he
bowed low before them, but, however cursory this glance, it gave him full
opportunity for perceiving Princess Charlotte Louise's deep blush, and the
joyful flashing of her eyes.

"She loves him," he said softly to himself, "yes, she loves him, and my
son will be Elector of Brandenburg."

"We shall be pleased to see again your son, Count John Adolphus," said
George William kindly. "He is a very elegant and accomplished gentleman,
besides being a very submissive and obedient son, in whom your father's
heart may well rejoice. My son would do well to follow his example, and I
shall be delighted for him to form a friendship with the count."

"I shall diligently strive to gain the friendship of the son as well as of
the father," replied the Electoral Prince, smiling, "and it shall not be
my fault, indeed, if I do not obtain it."

"Most honored sir, you can gain no more than you already possess,"
exclaimed Schwarzenberg, bowing low. "Will the Electress now permit me to
address a question to her highness?"

"Ask your question quickly," cried the Electress, "that I may hear the
request it is to introduce, for I am really curious to know what the rich
and powerful Count Schwarzenberg can have to desire of the poor,
uninfluential Electress."

"First, then, my question, most gracious lady: At what hour does your
highness command my _fete_ to begin?"

"Will you leave the decision to me, my husband?" asked the Electress,
smiling.

The Elector nodded assent.


"As you have invited my daughters," said the Electress, "I presume that
there will certainly be dancing, and evening hours suit best for that. Let
the _fete_ commence at six o'clock."

The Elector's brow darkened, for he did not at all relish gay, noisy
evening parties, and a solemn dinner at the regular hour would have been
far more welcome to him.

"Your grace has prescribed the hour for the opening of the ball," said
Count Schwarzenberg reverentially. "But I now also entreat further that
you name a dinner hour, for I hope your highness will favor me by dining
with me on that day."

"Yes, that honor shall be shown you," cried the Elector cheerfully. "We
shall come, surely we shall come. And I will myself appoint the hour for
the mid-day meal. Let it be at two o'clock. Then we shall have some
pleasant hours at table before the dancing comes off and the music puts
our heads in a whirl."

"Two o'clock, then, most gracious sir."

"And now, Sir Count," cried the Electress, "now for your request. Say
quickly what it is. What can you have to ask of me?"

"Most gracious Electress, I hardly venture to express it, and yet, by
granting my request, you would do me a very great pleasure and honor. Some
splendid silk stuffs have been sent me from France by my cousin, who is
Austrian ambassador there. I had given him such a commission, as I thought
of making a present to my aunt, the Countess Schwarzenberg at Vienna. My
cousin bought these stuffs for me, and writes me, moreover, that they are
the newest fabrics from the looms of Lyons, and that he has just sent
three such dresses to the Empress and the two archduchesses at Vienna.
Now, it did not seem to me becoming or appropriate that the Countess
Schwarzenberg should wear robes such as the Empress and archduchesses
wear, and I think gold and silver brocade suited to none but ladies of
princely blood."

"And you would give them to us, Sir Count?" cried the young Princess
Sophie Hedwig, with heightened color in her cheeks and sparkling eyes.

The Electress and older Princess laughed aloud at this naive and hasty
question, and even the Elector laughed a little.

A slight blush suffused the Electoral Prince's face; he withdrew to the
window and looked out. Count Schwarzenberg, however, looked smilingly upon
the young Princess, whose girlish impatience had come so opportunely to
his rescue.

"I would venture," he said, "most humbly to ask her highness's permission
to lay the brocade stuffs at her feet."

"Mamma, do so," coaxed Sophie Hedwig; "take the pretty dress patterns from
the good Stadtholder."

"Well, then, I shall do so," said the Electress. "I accept your present
for myself and the young ladies, and I thank you."

She extended her hand to the count, which he kissed.

"And you will give orders, Electress, that the dresses be made up in time
for Count Schwarzenberg's _fete_!" cried the Elector cheerfully. "You must
at least honor him by displaying his present first at his own house."

"There are a few plates accompanying it," remarked Schwarzenberg--"a few
plates on which are painted the newest styles of ladies' dresses now
fashionable in Paris. The robes of the Empress and the archduchesses were
made by them."

"So shall our dresses be too!" cried Sophie Hedwig, joyfully clapping her
hands. "Shall they not, dearest mamma--shall not our dresses be made by
the fashion plates?"

Just at this moment the Electoral Prince again emerged from the window
recess, and approached his father.

"I beg your highness's gracious permission to withdraw," he said. "I
should like to retire to my own apartments a little while, in order to lay
aside my dusty traveling suit."

"Do so, my son," replied the Elector, with a friendly nod of the head. "Go
to your rooms, which have been prepared for you a whole half year, and
await your return. Dress yourself and rejoin us at dinner. For the rest, I
bid you heartily welcome, and may your return be productive of good, not
evil, to yourself and us all."

"God grant that I may merit my father's favor, and ever show myself worthy
of it!" exclaimed the Electoral Prince, with deep seriousness. "I have now
the honor of taking my leave!"

He bowed low before the Elector, and with a like salutation bade farewell
to the Electress and the Princesses. After greeting the count with a smile
and a wave of his hand, he hurried with light elastic step through the
apartment to the door.




IV.--THE DONATION.


When the Electoral Prince left his father's cabinet he found without the
officers and servants of the household arranged in solemn order. They
received him with a thrice-repeated cheer that was loud enough to
penetrate through the door into the Electoral apartment, and to reach the
Elector's ears in a manner by no means pleasant.

Affectionately and smilingly Frederick William thanked them. He could call
each one of them by name, and charmed them all by recalling little
incidents of his earlier days in which they had borne a part.

"I hope we shall always remain good friends," he said, when he had reached
the door of the long entrance hall, "and once more I thank you for your
friendly greeting."

Old Jock, who stood next to the door, and who looked quite grand in his
artfully patched livery of state--old Jock had already just opened his
mouth for another thundering hurrah, when the Electoral Prince laid his
hand gently upon his shoulder.

"Hush, Jock, hush! do not shout," he said, loud enough to be heard by
everybody. "It is enough that I read my welcome in your eyes, and not
necessary for your lips to pronounce the words aloud. Our much-loved and
gracious father is sick and suffering, and we must not therefore allow his
rest to be disturbed by loud noises. Be quiet and silent, therefore, and
only believe me when I say that I know I am welcome to you all!"

He gave them one more friendly nod, and stepped out upon the long corridor,
on the other side of which lay his own apartments. Quickly he went on,
opened the door of the antechamber with a vigorous pressure of his hand,
and entered. The trunks and other baggage lay in wild disorder, heaped up
in the outer hall, and old Dietrich, with a few other servants and
lackeys, was busied in untying parcels and unpacking. The Electoral Prince
went hurriedly past, and entered his sleeping room. Here, too, he found
all in confusion; the dust lay thick upon the unwieldy old furniture,
whose cushions were covered with faded and even here and there ragged
tapestry. From the walls, hung with discolored papering, a few old
ancestral portraits looked gravely and gloomily down upon him, and their
melancholy eyes seemed to ask him what he wanted here, and why he had come
to awaken them from their repose, and disturb the dust which had been
collecting for years. It seemed to the Prince as if he heard this
inhospitable question quite clearly uttered by the lips of his ancestor
Albert Achilles, before whose picture he was just passing, and whose
large, glittering eyes seemed to look out in defiance. Frederick William
stopped and looked at his forefather with a sad smile. "I have come much
against my will, Elector Albert Achilles," he said. "I assure you, very
much against my will, and if I did not think of the future, I would go
away again and _never_ come back. But for the sake of the future the
present must be endured; therefore forgive me, my great, valiant ancestor,
and believe me I will do you honor!"

He nodded to the picture and strode on, advancing into the next room,
which was to be his study. Here everything was still exactly as he had
left it almost four years ago. The old furniture stood unmoved in its
familiar places; there was still the brown varnished writing table at
which he had formerly applied himself to his studies, in company with his
tutor Leuchtmar von Kalkhun; beside it stood the simple, rude book
shelves, and on them, covered with dust and cobwebs, the old leather-bound
volumes from which he had drunk in knowledge and wisdom. Before both
windows hung, just as then, the dark red silken curtains, only that the
sun had partially deprived them of their original coloring and interwoven
sickly streaks of yellow. The old sofa, too, was yet in existence with its
sleek brown leather covering, and by its side stood the two leather
armchairs, with their high, straight backs and awkwardly turned feet. No
one had taken the trouble to repair these inroads of dilapidation, and,
long as they had been expecting the Electoral Prince, no preparations
whatever had been made for his reception. Four years had passed over these
chambers without leaving any further trace of their presence than dust and
cobwebs, and faded stripes on cushion and curtain. Sighing, the Electoral
Prince threw himself into one of the two armchairs. The old piece of
furniture creaked under him, as if by this sound it would greet him and
remind him of the past. He leaned his head against the back, whose leather
cooled his temples as if a cold hand had been laid upon the brow of him
who had just come home. Slowly his glance swept through the room, and it
seemed to him as if he saw the four last years glide by like phantom
shapes through the lonely, dreary, and dusty chamber. They looked at him
with wan smiles and lusterless eyes, and hovered past shadowlike, leaving
behind for him nothing but dust, nothing but a hardly cicatrized wound.
Hardly cicatrized!

Sometimes it bled yet, this wound of his past. Sometimes he thought that
there was no healing for it, that it would never close, and that its pain
would never cease.

Just so thought he as the shadows of the four years floated by him through
that gloomy, dusty room. Just so thought he, when the youngest of these
phantoms paused beside him, threw back her gray veil of mist, and under it
disclosed to him a beautiful, rosy female face, with flaming eyes, pouting
lips, and lovely smile, when she raised her hand and beckoned to him,
whispering: "Leave all behind and come to me! _I_ am waiting for you! _I_
love you! Oh, come to me!"

How sweetly enticing were these whispered sounds, how burning was the pain
in the wound but barely healed! Again it began to bleed, again tears rose
to his eyes. He was not ashamed of them, and yet, as he felt them flow
burning down his cheeks, he stretched out his hands deprecatingly to the
phantom with the rosy cheeks and fascinating smile, to the shadow of the
last year, and murmured: "Away from me! Come not near me, to tempt my
heart! I may not follow you--I may not, and I _will_ not."

"And I _will_ not!" he repeated quite aloud, and jumped up from his
easychair, shaking his head defiantly and proudly, like a roused lion.

"What will you not?" asked a soft voice behind him, and when he turned
round he saw at his back Baron von Leuchtmar, who had just entered, and
whose mild, gentle glances rested upon him with tender expression.

"Leuchtmar!" cried the Prince, hastening to meet him with both hands
outstretched. "God be praised, that you are here, that you come to me at
this moment! Ah! would that you had not left me at Spandow, but had
remained at my side!"

"No, my Prince! It was proper that the eyes of the people should have
greeted you alone, and that the boy, whom they had seen go off at the side
of his tutor, should now appear to them again as a bold and independent
young man, who relies upon his own powers only, and has no longer any
tutor at his side, but his own sense of duty and his conscience. But why
so sad, Prince Frederick William? Your journey was verily a triumphal
procession; like a Roman imperator you entered your father's city, and now
do I find you here, solitary, with troubled countenance, with tears upon
your cheeks?"

"With tears upon my cheeks?" repeated the Prince; "with imprecations, with
wrath, and sorrow in my heart. Oh, friend, why were you not with me? You
would have saved me perhaps from the bitterness of the last hour. You
would have stood by me, would have encouraged me!"

"My God, what has happened then?"

"It has happened that I was received as if I were some criminal returning
after a course of sin!" cried Frederick William, with indignant pain. "It
has happened that they have treated me as if I were a rioter and inciter
of rebellion, who had come hither with criminal designs, at the head of a
mob, and as a captain of robbers, who had attacked his Sovereign in his
stronghold. It has happened that they allowed me to sue for pardon upon my
knees without lifting me up--that they have treated me like an abandoned
villain, from whom they expected each hour to witness some new out-break."

"But consider, my Prince, that you had reason to expect that your
reception would be ungracious, and that it was your father from whom these
trials would come to you."

"No, not from my father, but from _him_--that evil spirit who, with his
cold smile and mocking composure, stood at my father's side! He has
poisoned my father's heart with jealousy and hate, he has filled it with
mistrust toward his only son, and sowed discord, that he may himself reap
a harvest from the hatred! And he was witness of my humiliation, and I saw
how he looked down upon me with scornful superiority as I knelt before my
father and pleaded in vain for one word of love from his lips! But _he_
had withered this word upon his lips, and only for _him_ were words of
tenderness and veneration there! Only for _him_ acknowledgments,
confidence, and love! As he stood there with cold and haughty face at the
side of my poor father, who, stooping and insignificant, cowered below
him--oh, so far below him in his easychair--I felt it in every nerve of my
heart, in every fiber of my brain, that _he_ and _he_ alone is ruling lord
here, the commander and Sovereign; and that he who will not bow and cringe
before him, will by him be hurled into the dust and trodden upon! They all
bow before him--_all_! He is like a magician, who by the magnetic glances
of his eyes subjects to his will all who approach him, and makes the
stoutest hearts soft and pliant, so that like wax they allow themselves to
be molded by his forming hands. Even my mother, who is his enemy, who has
been battling against him for twenty years, even she is conquered by him,
and he has become her master and forces her to his will. She knows not at
all that she has fallen within the circle of his magic, yet is, like all
the rest, a mere tool in his hands. But she feels it not, and fancies
herself free, while she lies bound, and has no will of her own in his
presence. I have seen it, I have felt it, and it has filled my heart with
unutterable woe, with raging anger. She felt not at all the shame and
humiliation under which I almost expired; she came not to my aid, for the
magician was there, and in his presence my mother forgot her son so
recently come back to her, and _he_ was the center around which all
turned, _he_ was master of the situation, and before _him_ all shrank into
wretched nothingness. He charmed the hearts which had remained cold at my
reception, charmed them with the prospect of a _fete_, which, as he said,
he was to give in my honor, and they believed the mockery, and allowed
themselves to be touched by that noble condescension, and felt not the
cruel boasting with which he solemnizes the return of him who is a thorn
in his flesh, a thorn which he is firmly determined to pluck out, and
tread under foot! I came here humble, poor, and empty-handed, and _he_
solemnizes my return by offering presents to my mother and my sisters!
And they accept them, feel not at all the degradation, and will appear at
the _fete_ in clothes with which my enemy, my adversary, my murderer has
presented them!"

"Prince, you go too far. Your hatred carries you away."

"No, I do not go too far!" cried the Prince, beside himself. His
countenance was deadly pale, his eyes flashed, and his whole being seemed
pervaded by the fire of wrath and hatred. "No, I do not go too far, and my
hatred does not carry me away! He is the evil demon of my house--of my
country! He is to blame for all the disasters of the last twenty years,
for all the humiliation and shame by which my family has been visited. The
Mark is to be ruined--that is his end, that is his aim; the Electoral
house of Brandenburg must die out--that is his hope; and he will leave
untried no means whereby this hope may become reality. He has already
tried once to murder me,[22] and he will try it again. A dagger's point
lurks in each glance that he fixes upon me, a drop of poison in each word
that he directs to me. If I stood alone with him upon the summit of a
tower, he would hurl me down, and then afterward follow my coffin with a
thousand tears! And my father would lean upon him, and thank God that only
his son had been snatched from him, not his friend, his favorite; and my
mother would weep for me, and yet go about in mourning which he had
presented to her, and she would esteem it a peculiar act of amiability if
he should exert himself to divert her mind and raise her spirits. No voice
would be raised against him, and no one would venture to accuse him, for
my father himself would protect him, and the grace and favor of the
Emperor would speak him clear of any suspicion. He is my master, my
lord--that is what fills me with rage and indignation; and I will surely
die of this if the count does not succeed in dispatching me first, and
putting me out of the way."

"He will not venture to attempt that, for he knows public opinion would
accuse and denounce him as the murderer."

"What cares he for public opinion, what asks he about it--_he_ who has
power to repress it, _he_ who stands so secure that it can not touch
_him_?"

"Nobody stands so high, Prince, that public opinion can not reach him and
dash him into the depths below, for public opinion is the voice of the
nation, and the voice of the nation is the voice of God! And believe me,
Prince, this voice will one day accuse and sentence him."

"Yes, one day perhaps, when he has thrust me out of the way and murdered
me, when my father has gone to his last home, when the Emperor has
pronounced the Mark of Brandenburg an unincumbered fief, and bestowed it
as an act of grace upon Count Schwarzenberg or his son. Oh, I know all his
plans, and I know that no moment of my life is henceforth secure--know
that I am a victim of death if prudence and cunning do not save me! I
thought of all this during my long journey to this place. I have weighed
all, pondered all, and my whole future lay before me like a white sheet of
paper. I saw a hand unroll it, and with bloody letters inscribe the word
'Death'; but I saw this word blotted out by a cautious finger, and, ere it
was written to the end, replaced by the word 'Life' in characters small
and hardly visible. Yes, I _will_ live, _will_ reign, _will_ have fame,
honor, and influence, _will_ make a name for myself! Leuchtmar, I have
left behind in Holland my youth, my hopes, my dreams, my heart! I come
here as a man, despite my eighteen years, as a man who from the wreck of
his youth will save only this: the future and fame! A man, who has
suffered so much, that he can say of himself: I defy pain, and it has no
longer any power over me! I defy life, and _will_ conquer it! Yes,
Leuchtmar, I _will_ conquer it; and although I no longer love it, I do not
mean to allow it to be snatched away from me. Hear me, friend, for to-day
is the last time for a long while that I may speak openly and candidly to
you. I entreat you, guide of my youth, to preserve for me your friendship
and your faith. I beseech you never to lose confidence in me, and, if ever
a doubt should intrude itself with regard to me, to remember this hour, in
which I have laid bare to you my heart, and in which you have been a
witness to my indignation and grief, my excitement and hatred! You are
familiar with my countenance, friend; impress it upon your memory, in
order that you may never forget it, even if you should not see it for a
long time again. Look once more in my eyes, and read in my glances my love
and reverence for you!"

"I do look into your eyes, son of my heart," said Leuchtmar, deeply moved.
"I look through your eyes into your soul, into your heart, and read
therein great determination and heroic aims. Strive after them, my
favorite, and when the present seems to you dark and gloomy, then lift
your eye to the glittering star, which hovers over you and is your
future. To endure evil, and still to remain joyful and valiant, therein
lies true heroism. To turn from the dust of earthly needs, to step over it
with head held heavenward, thereby is true faith proved. God bless you, my
son! Be brave, be wise, be true! Trust in yourself, your friends, your
people, and your God; then is the future yours, and you will overcome all
your foes, and will triumph over the proud man who now thinks that he
triumphs over you. I said to you, be brave, be wise, be true. I forgot one
thing, though, which I shall now add--_be circumspect_! Remember that
oftentimes it is not the sword which carries off the victory, but cunning;
remember Brutus, who freed Rome."

"Oh, my friend, you have spoken truth," exclaimed the Prince; "you have
read to the bottom of my soul, and understood my inmost thoughts. Now am I
glad and full of confidence, for my friend and teacher will never doubt
me. And hear one thing more, my Leuchtmar. You must accept a memento of
this hour, a memento which I prepared even before my departure from The
Hague, and which shall be to you a proof of my gratitude. I am poor and
powerless, and as I build all my hopes upon the future, so must I do with
my presents as well. You must accept from me a gift of my future, friend.
I know full well that what you have done for me can not be recompensed,
but I would so gladly testify my gratitude to you, and therefore I give
you this paper!"

He drew forth a paper from his pocketbook, and handed it to Leuchtmar with
a friendly smile. "Take it and read," he said.

Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun took the paper, and fastened his eyes upon the
words, which were inscribed in large letters on the outside.

"A Deed of Expectancy!" he said, astonished.

The Electoral Prince nodded. "A deed of expectancy, written with my own
hand and sealed with my own signet ring. Yes, yes, my friend, I have
nothing to give away but expectations; yet if the Electoral Prince should
ever become Elector, he will convert these expectations into reality and
truth. Now unfold the paper, and see what manner of expectation it holds
out."

"An act, donating the feudal tenure of Neuenhof, lying within the
territories of Cleves!" cried Leuchtmar joyfully. "Oh, my dear Prince,
that is truly a princely gift!"

"Yet it is not the Prince, but the grateful scholar who gives it to you,"
said Frederick William, "and in proof of this I have written these words,
which I will read to you myself." He bent over the paper, and read: "We
have voluntarily and with due consideration promised and engaged to give
to Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun this estate of Neuenhof, out of the
particular and friendly affection which we bear to him. We also swear that
if we hereafter attain to power and authority, and our much-esteemed
Romilian von Leuchtmar be to our sorrow cut off by death, we in the same
way will this estate to his eldest son, and grant him the enjoyment of all
that we assigned and destined for his father in his lifetime."[23]

"That is indeed to carry happiness and reward beyond the grave!" cried
Leuchtmar, with tears in his eyes. "Oh, I thank you, my Prince, thank you
from my inmost soul, for myself and my children!"

"You have nothing at all to thank me for, friend," said the Prince. "I
shall ever be much more in your debt. If, however, I some day become a
good Prince to my country and a father to my people, then you must reflect
that this is the return I make to you, my teacher, my educator! You see I
hope in the future, and think that I shall succeed in evading murderous
designs and fulfill my aims. But, indeed, your warning I may never forget,
and circumspect I _must_ be first of all. Wear a mask, as Brutus did! Let
me embrace you once more, friend Leuchtmar; look me once more in the eye.
And now--I hear some one coming! Farewell, Leuchtmar! I put on my mask and
not for a moment can I withdraw it from my features."




V.--BRUTUS.


The door was now opened, a valet entered and announced, "Her highness the
Electress!" And before the Electoral Prince had time to advance, the
Electress had entered the room.

"I come to welcome you once more, my Frederick!" she cried, stretching out
her arms to her son. "Entirely without witnesses, simply as his mother
would I greet my son, and tell him how happy I am that he is once more
here."

She flung her arms around her son's neck, and pressed him ardently to her
bosom. Baron Leuchtmar, who upon the Electress's approach had stepped
aside, now crept softly through the apartment to the door, and was already
in the act of opening it, when the Electress quickly raised her head and
looked around.

"Stay where you are, Baron Leuchtmar," she said; "why would you slip away
from us?"

"I may not presume by my presence to disturb the confidential discourse
between the Electress and her son."

"You do not disturb us at all, for you belong to us, Leuchtmar," replied
Charlotte Elizabeth, nodding kindly to him. "On the contrary, I will tell
you that I knew you were here, and came here on that very account, in
order to salute you without witnesses, and to have a private conversation
with you and my son. For well I know, Leuchtmar, that we may confide in
you, and that you belong to _us_--that is to say, to the enemies of
Schwarzenberg, to the enemies of the Imperialists and Catholics, to the
friends of the Swedes and Reformers."

"Your highness may be well assured that I return home just as I went
away," said Leuchtmar earnestly--"that is to say, an upright Protestant, a
true Brandenburger, and a determined opponent of those who concluded the
peace of Prague, and thereby separated the Elector of Brandenburg from the
Swedes, and made him wholly and solely subservient to the Emperor's
interests."

"You will not name _him_, the evildoer, who has brought this to pass,"
cried the Electress, "but I will name him: it is Count Schwarzenberg! It
is the Stadtholder in the Mark, who has brought upon us all this mischief
and disgrace, who has sundered us from our nearest blood relations, the
family of the Swedish King, and has leagued us with and subjected us to
those who are our sworn enemies and adversaries, the Imperialists, the
Austrians. Oh, my son! promise me that you will some day take vengeance
for the ignominy and humiliation which we must now undergo. Swear in this
first hour of your return home, solemnly joining hands with me, that as
soon as you come into power the first act of your government shall be to
renounce allegiance to the Emperor and to ally yourself again with the
Swedes, our natural allies."

She stretched out her right hand to her son. "Swear, my son!" she cried,
solemnly, "give me your hand upon it!"

But Frederick William did not lay his hand within hers. He drew back,
declining her proffered hand.

"Forgive me, my dearest mother," he said, "forgive me; but I can not
swear, for I do not know whether I could keep my oath! May the good God
long preserve my gracious father's life, and grant him a glorious reign.
But if hereafter, and surely to my deepest regret, duty and the right of
Succession deliver into my hands the reins of government, then I must
guide them, as circumstances direct, as determined by the contingencies of
the times and the good of the country; and I dare not bind myself
beforehand by any given word or by promises."

"You refuse, my son, to promise me that you will make amends for all the
evil done by that wicked enemy of your house, your family, and your
country?"

"Dearest mother, I know not of whom you speak, and who it is that has
burdened himself with so heinous a crime."

With impulsive movement the Electress laid her hand upon his arm, and
looked him steadily in the eye.

"Are you dissembling, or is that the truth?" she asked. "You do not know
of whom I speak? You do not know who is the enemy of your house and
family?"

"I am trying in vain to study it out, mother, and I beg you not to be
angry with me on that account, for your grace must reflect that I have
been absent almost four years, and am therefore a little unacquainted with
the situation of affairs here. If you had addressed that question to me
before my departure, most assuredly I should have replied without
hesitation, 'It is Count Schwarzenberg!' But I have since then found out
that I had done the count injustice in many things through my inexperience
and want of foresight; that he is a very great and experienced statesman
and politician, who with his far-seeing glances can discern much more
clearly than I with my unpracticed eyes the relations of things. Who knows
but that, after all, the peace of Prague has been a real blessing to our
land. When I behold its present pitiable and languishing condition as a
neutral, how can I avoid reflecting with horror upon what might have been
the state of things had we joined any decided war party. Had we sided
with the Swedes, the enmity of the powerful Emperor, vastly surpassing us
in material resources, would long since have destroyed us root and branch,
and my dear father would have most probably shared the same lamentable
fate as the Elector of the Palatinate, his brother-in-law, or the Margrave
of Liegnitz and Jaegerndorf, his cousin. He must have wandered with wife
and children an exile in foreign lands, or died of grief among strangers.
On the other hand, had we sided with the Emperor against the Swedes, a
raging, implacable foe would have quartered himself in the heart of our
dominions, and not merely Pomerania, but the Mark and the duchy of Prussia
would have been overrun-by his warlike hordes. But on my journey hither I
have witnessed the misery and unspeakable wretchedness of our land, and
asked myself with heavy, sorrowing heart what would have become of our
unhappy country in times of war if neutrality could reduce it to such
poverty and plunge it in such want and suffering. And then I was forced to
acknowledge that Count Schwarzenberg had acted right well as Stadtholder
in the Mark in wishing, before all things, to preserve the Mark intrusted
to him from yet greater calamity, by holding it to that neutrality, being
alike impartial between the Emperor and the Swedes. I therefore begged his
pardon in my heart for having often accused him unjustly before, for he is
indeed a faithful and zealous servant to his master, and especially
endeavors to further his interests, to maintain his position, and to
console him in these times of affliction. I see, too, that not merely the
Elector holds him in high estimation, and honors him as his true and
valued counselor and friend, but that my mother as well has taken him into
her favor, and that she has quite recovered from the mistrust with which
she previously regarded him. For surely it is a proof of great favor when
the Electress allows the count to offer presents of dresses to herself and
her daughters, and no one of us can mistrust _him_, who so cordially
rejoices over my return that he volunteers to celebrate it by a splendid
festival. The whole Electoral family has accepted the invitation to this
festival, and thereby prove to Berlin, yea, to the whole country, that we
are on the best terms with the Stadtholder, and that nothing has
transpired which could shake our confidence in him.'"

The Electress had listened to her son with ever-growing amazement. Her
glances had grown more and more indignant; she had often turned from her
son to Leuchtmar, as if to read in his features whether or not he shared
her astonishment and irritation. Now, when the Prince was silent, she
stepped across to Leuchtmar, and laid her hand upon his arm.

"Leuchtmar," she asked with trembling voice, "is he in earnest? Has he
actually altered so entirely? Has he really gone over to our enemies and
adversaries?"

"Most gracious lady, the Electoral Prince is by far too tender a son ever
to become alienated from his mother," replied the baron earnestly.

"He speaks the truth, my dearest mother," exclaimed Frederick William,
nearing his mother. "Never could I alter toward you, never forget the
gratitude and love I owe you, never go over to your enemies and
adversaries. But why should we carry politics into private life, and what
have Swedes and Imperialists, Catholics and Reformers to do with our
family life and our domestic circle? Let us hand politics over to those
whose duty it is to deal with them; let us not seek to meddle in the
government, for we have no right to do so, and should step aside for those
who understand matters far better than we do, and who manage the machine
of state with as much foresight as wisdom. I, at least, am determined to
hold myself aloof from all such burdensome affairs, to enjoy my youth and
freedom, and I thank God that I have not to bear the weight of
administering the government, but have only the pleasant task allotted me
of permitting myself to be governed!"

"It is not possible!" cried the Electress, with an outburst of
passion--"no, it is not possible that _my_ son can so speak and think! O
Leuchtmar! what have you made of my son? Who has changed him, my darling,
my only son? I hoped that he would come back a hero, around whom would
cluster all those who are true to our house, our faith, and our
fatherland! I hoped that in him I should find a refuge against the
aggressions, the villainy, and the wiles of my enemy! I hoped that the son
would succeed in winning back his father's heart, and turning him against
that proud man who rules him entirely, and who will crush us all. O God!
my God! for three long years I have been looking forward to his return as
the time of vengeance and retribution, and now that son is here, and what
do I find in him? A son weakly obedient to his father, a submissive
admirer of Count Schwarzenberg, a weakling who longs not at all for honor
and influence, who is glad that he has not to govern and work, but that
others must govern and work for him! Alas! I am a poor mother, and much to
be pitied, for in vain have I hoped that my son would assist me to avenge
the misfortunes of my house, and punish and bring my enemies to account!"

She covered her face with her hands, weeping aloud. The Electoral Prince
gave her a look of mingled grief and pain, took one hurried step forward,
as if he would go to her, and encircle her in his arms, then paused,
retreated slowly, gently, ever farther from the spot where she still stood
with face concealed and sobbing aloud. It was as if an invisible hand
continually drew him farther from his mother, ever nearer the door of the
antechamber. Now he stood close to it, leaned against it, and--was the old
castle so disjointed, or had the Electoral Prince with sudden touch
pressed upon the latch?--the door flew open. The Electoral Prince fell
backward into the antechamber, and, had it not been for the Electress's
valet, against whom he stumbled, would have fallen to the ground.

"By my faith!" he cried, while he nodded to the lackey, who stood there
with red face and deep embarrassment of manner--"by my faith! it was a
piece of good luck for me that you were standing so near the door, my
friend, else I should probably have had a bad fall. This rickety old
castle must be repaired. One can not even lean against the doors without
their flying open!"

He nodded to the lackey, who stood there in confusion, not having at all
recovered his self-possession, and stepped back into the room. In passing,
his eye caught that of Leuchtmar, who replied by a nod of assent, stolen
and significant; then he approached the Electress, who, surprised by this
sudden and unexpected interlude, had let her hands glide from before her
face, and now dried her tears.

"I beg my revered mother's pardon for disturbing her so ridiculously," he
said, seizing her hand and pressing it to his lips. "It was not my fault,
and only occasioned by the insecure fastening upon the door. It was by a
right fortunate accident that your grace commanded your valet to station
himself close to the door of the cabinet, for he thereby saved me from an
unpleasant fall."

"I did not command the lackey to station himself in your sleeping
apartment," said the Electress, "and consider it contrary to all rules of
propriety."

She rapidly crossed the study and opened the door just as the lackey was
slinking through the one opposite.

"Frederick, come here!" cried the Electress, and with head sunk and
humbled mien the lackey came a few paces nearer.

"Did I not order you to wait for me in the antechamber, and to forewarn us
of the approach of any one else?" asked the Electress.

"Your highness," replied the lackey humbly, "I followed your grace's
orders exactly, and stood here in the antechamber and kept guard, but
nobody came."

"But this is not the antechamber, you blockhead!" cried the Electress. "It
is there, without! Go out there and wait!"


The lackey made haste to obey the order given him, and the Electress
turned to the Prince. "I beg you, my son, to pardon the man his
stupidity," said she; "but he deserves some indulgence in so far as he has
only been in our service for a short while, and consequently is not well
acquainted with the plan of the palace. My valet fell sick on the journey
from Koenigsberg here, and we were obliged to leave him behind, which was
so much the more inconvenient as he was our hairdresser besides, and
understood how to arrange the Elector's hair as well as my own and the
young ladies'. Count Schwarzenberg heard of it, and by a piece of good
fortune, was able to spare us one of his valets."

"Oh!" cried the Electoral Prince, smiling. "This fellow, then, has been
transferred from the Stadtholder's service to that of your grace?"

"Yes, and I must say that he is a very useful and efficient servant, who
understands all the newest styles of French hairdressing, and is well
skilled in other ways also. I beg you therefore to excuse him for this
little mistake."

"He is perfectly excusable," said the Electoral Prince, bowing. "So much
the more excusable, as it might well happen that he is not yet familiar
with this castle."

"It is true," cried the Electress, casting her eyes around the room, "it
does look a little dilapidated and desolate here, and care ought indeed to
have been taken to refurnish your apartments and give them a more
comfortable aspect. You know, Frederick, we only expect to tarry here for
a short time, and think of returning to Prussia very soon, and there I
shall see myself that you are provided with handsomer and more commodious
rooms. There I am the princely lady of the house, and everywhere reigning
duchess, while here, in the resident palace of Berlin, I seem to myself
only a guest, who has nothing at all to say in the directing of the
household, but must silently acquiesce in everything. And it _is_ so, too,
and has come to this pass, that the Stadtholder in the Mark is the only
ruling lord and commander, and the Elector seems to come here only as the
Stadtholder's guest."

"The Stadtholder, though, seems at least a right polite and splendid
host," remarked the Electoral Prince, smiling, "a host who lays himself
out to attend to the comfort and entertainment--nay, even to the
wardrobes--of his noble guests."

"Your Electoral Highnesses!" cried an advancing lackey--"your Electoral
Highnesses, the steward of the household is without, and announces that
dinner is served, and that the Elector and the young ladies have already
repaired to the dining hall."

"Then let us go too, my son," said the Electress, offering her hand to the
Electoral Prince.

"But, most gracious mother, I still have on my traveling suit, and--"

"My son," sighed the Electress, "your traveling suit is so showy and
elegant that I can only wish that in the future your court dress may
always be so handsome. Come, give me your arm, and let us hurry, for your
father does not like to be kept waiting, and is very punctual at
mealtimes. You, Baron von Leuchtmar, follow us. We herewith invite you to
be our guest, and to accompany us to table."

The Electress took the Prince's proffered arm, and swept through the door
held open for her by the lackey. The steward of the household, who had
awaited them in the antechamber, golden staff in hand, now preceded them,
the lackeys flew before them to open the doors, and through a suite of
gloomy, deserted rooms, with old-fashioned, dusty, and half-decayed
furniture, moved the princely pair, followed by Baron von Leuchtmar,
behind whom strutted the lackeys at a respectful distance. The Elector
stood with the two Princesses in the deep recess of the great window, when
his wife and son entered; he greeted them both with a short nod of the
head, and, casting a dark, unfriendly glance at Baron von Leuchtmar, who
was reverentially approaching him, gave his arm to his wife, and led her
to the two upper places at the oblong table.

"It seems our son can not dispense with his tutor," said he, in a low,
peevish tone of voice to the Electress. "He brings his tutor to dine with
us, as if it were a matter of course."

"I beg your pardon, George," whispered the Electress. "I invited the
baron, whom I found in our son's room. Do me the favor to receive him
affably. He has bestowed much labor and love upon our son, and has ever
been a faithful servant to us."

"To you, perhaps, but not to me," muttered the Elector, while he allowed
himself to sink down in his great, round easychair, thereby giving the
signal for dinner to commence.

The hours of dinner were usually those in which George William was
accustomed to dismiss all the cares and anxieties of government, and to
give himself up with cheerful countenance to harmless conversation with
his wife and daughters.

At times he even loved to carry on a lively chat with those court
officials who were present, at the table, or to amuse himself with hearing
their recital of the events of the day or the gossip of the town. But
to-day the Elector remained gloomy and taciturn. He left it to his wife to
lead the conversation, and get from the Electoral Prince accounts of her
dear relations at the Dutch court. The Prince answered all her questions,
confining himself meanwhile to the duly necessary, and never
spontaneously adding anything or entering into any details as to his own
life and residence at the court of Holland. The Elector continued to
listen in moody silence, and this reserve on the part of his son seemed to
put him still more out of humor. His face continually grew darker, and he
even disdainfully pushed away untasted his favorite dish, a wild boar's
head, served up with lemons in its mouth, after it had been presented to
him for the third time.

"You have been beating about the bush long enough now, Electress!" he
cried warmly. "You have made inquiries after all possible things, except
the principal matter and person in whom you are at bottom most interested.
It might have been expected that our Electoral Prince would have begun
himself, since 'out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.' But
our young gentleman remains elegantly monosyllabic, and it would seem that
he is not at all overjoyed upon his return to the poverty-stricken, quiet
house of his father. It is true, he has lived in much handsomer style at
the Orange court, lived there, indeed, amid plenty and pleasure--by the
way, we can sing a little song on that subject, for our son has seen well
to the outlay, but the payment all fell to the lot of us at home. But now,
sir, now tell us a little of the petty court at Doornward, of our
sister-in-law, the widowed Countess of the Palatinate, and finally, what
I know your mother thinks the principal thing, finally tell us also about
her beautiful and fascinating daughter, the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine."

The Prince slightly shuddered. At the mention of this name, which he had
not heard since his departure from The Hague, he could not prevent the
ebbing of all his heart's blood, and a deadly pallor overspread his
cheeks. He cast down his eyes, and yet felt that all eyes were turned upon
him with questioning, curious glances. But this very consciousness
restored to him his self-possession and composure. Once more he raised his
head with a vigorous start, shook back into their place the brown locks
which had fallen down over forehead and cheeks, and met the Elector's
looks of inquiry with a full, intrepid gaze.

"Most gracious father," he said, with quiet, passionless voice, "very
little can be said about the petty court of Doornward. Our aunt, the
Electress of the Palatinate, reflects with sorrow upon the past; the three
Princesses, her daughters, and their three little brothers, reflect with
hope upon the future, and of the present therefore but little is to be
told."

"They must be very beautiful, those Princesses of the Palatinate, are
they not?" asked the Elector.

"I believe they are," replied the Prince composedly.

"He only believes so!" cried his father. "Just see how they have slandered
him, for they would have had us believe that he knew exactly, and was
quite peculiarly edified by the beauty of the Princesses of the
Palatinate."

"And why should he not have been, your highness?" asked the Electress,
smiling. "The Princesses of the Palatinate are our own cousins, and it
seems very natural, surely, that he should have a cordial, cousinly regard
for them."

"Maybe, Electress!" cried George William, "but it were to be wished that
it had stopped there! I should like, therefore, to hear something about
the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine. Is she, indeed, so very fair as report
represents her to be?"

"Yes," replied the Prince, with husky voice--"yes, she is very fair. Only
question Leuchtmar on the subject; he can confirm what I say."

"I prefer to question yourself," said the Elector, with inexorable
cruelty, "and to learn something more concerning your fair cousin from
your own lips. We have been informed that the Princess Ludovicka
Hollandine is a very lively, merry young lady, and that she is by no means
disinclined to become our daughter-in-law."

"But, my husband," pleaded the Electress in an undertone, "you would not
speak of such confidential matters in the presence of our court, and--"

"Ah, Electress!" interrupted George William, "these confidential matters
have been bruited abroad everywhere; the talk has been, not merely here at
Berlin, but throughout the land, yea, even so far as the imperial court at
Vienna, that our son meant to surprise us on his return from the
Netherlands by presenting to us the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine as his
wife, without applying to us beforehand for our consent. I therefore
desire that the Electoral Prince answer me openly and candidly, that we
may all know once and forever how the matter stands, and what we have to
expect. The good, gossiping city of Berlin, the whole land, even the
imperial court and the whole world, which seems to interest itself so much
in the marriage of our Prince, will then soon have an opportunity of
learning directly and reliably what is the state of affairs, and that is
exactly what seems to me desirable, and was the motive for our question.
Therefore, let our son tell us how matters stand between the Princess
Ludovicka Hollandine and himself."

The Electoral Prince sat with downcast eyes. His cheeks were still deadly
pale, and on his high, broad brow rested a threatening cloud. He put his
hand around the stem of the large glass goblet before him, and held it so
firmly that the glass broke with startling clangor and poured its purple
wine upon the tablecloth. The shrill clinking seemed to rouse him from his
reverie; with a hasty movement he threw a napkin over the red stain, and
again raised his eyes, slowly and tranquilly.

"Your Electoral Highnesses desire me to tell you the truth with regard to
all the reports circulated as to a marriage between the Princess Ludovicka
Hollandine and myself," he said. "I will, therefore, as becomes an
obedient and submissive son, acquaint you with the truth. And the truth is
this," he continued, with raised voice, while at the same time his cheeks
became suddenly scarlet and his eyes flashed with the fire of
inspiration--"the truth is this: the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine is the
prettiest, sweetest woman in the whole world; happy and enviable is the
man whose fortunate destiny will permit him to take her home as his bride,
blessed above all men he on whom this noble, fascinating, and amiable
girl bestows her love, whom she allows to enjoy the treasures of her mind
and heart. Your highness said that the Princess Hollandine was not ill
inclined to become your daughter-in-law. On that point I can give you no
information, for I perceived nothing of this inclination; but this I can
and must confess, that _I_ experienced the most glowing desire to make
the Princess your daughter-in-law; this I must confess, that I have loved
the beautiful, witty, and charming Princess Hollandine with my whole soul
and from the very depths of my heart. But never would I have ventured to
make the noble Princess my wife in opposition to your will, father; and
since I must admit that a union with her is not in accordance with your
wishes, and that it is opposed by policy and state reasons, I have
obediently submitted to your orders, and brought to you and my country the
greatest and holiest of sacrifices that a man can offer: I have sacrificed
my love to you, father! It has indeed been a bitter struggle with me, and
I do not deny that I yet suffer, but I shall conquer my pain; yet that I
can ever forget the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine, I can not promise, for
he who has truly loved never forgets. You have desired me to acquaint you
with the truth, father, now you know it. Let it now he blazoned forth
through all Berlin, through the whole country, even as far as the imperial
court of Vienna, and through the whole world. The Princess Ludovicka also
will then hear of it, and the report of this confession of my love will
reach her. But let rumor announce this one thing more to the Emperor, to
our country, and to her: that, while the Electoral Prince Frederick
William of Brandenburg could, indeed, give up a marriage with a Princess
whom he loved, out of respect and obedience to his father, he never will
take as his wife a princess whom he does not love, out of obedience and
respect; that the Electoral Prince thinks himself much too young and
inexperienced to marry, and that he most humbly implores his father to
spare him the consideration of all matrimonial projects for long years to
come, since he is firmly determined not to marry yet, and this, indeed,
not out of any refractoriness toward his father, nor out of any want of
veneration for the princesses who might be proposed to him, but merely
because his heart has received a sore wound, and because this must first
heal. But I do not reproach the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine with having
inflicted this wound. On the contrary, I speak it aloud, and may my speech
penetrate to her ears as a parting salutation: Blessed be the Princess
Ludovicka Hollandine of the Palatinate, and may God send her the happiness
she deserves so richly by her beauty, intellect, and goodness of heart!"

And, carried away by his own warmth and enthusiasm, forgetting all sense
of restraint in this moment of highest excitement, Frederick William
jumped up from his seat, took up in his hand the unbroken cup of the glass
whose foot he had smashed, and filled it to the brim with wine.

"Most gracious mother!" he cried, "look here! the base of this goblet is
broken off, and an apt symbol it is of my love. With the last wine which
this glass will ever hold let me drink a last farewell to my love, and do
you pledge her with me: To the health of the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine
of the Palatinate!"

The Electress had listened to her son with tears in her eyes, and the two
Princesses also had been deeply moved by the vehement and painful recital
of their brother's love. Now, upon his invitation, spoken with so much
ardor and enthusiasm, the Electress rose from her seat and took her glass
in her hand; the Princesses followed her example.

"To the health of the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine of the Palatinate!"
said the Electress, with full, distinct voice, and the young ladies
repeated it after her.

"Here is to her health!" cried Frederick William, with animated features
and beaming eyes. "May she be great, happy, and blessed forever!"

At one draught he emptied the chalice, then, in the fervor of the moment,
forgetting all discretion, he threw the glass backward over his shoulder
into the hall, so that it fell, with a crash, shivered to atoms, upon the
floor.

The Elector rose, his face flushed with passion, and violently rolled his
chair back from the table. "Dinner is over," he said. "May this meal be
blessed to all!"

The court officials bowed low and withdrew. Herr von Leuchtmar also made a
motion as if to go, but George William's call detained him. "Come here,"
he said imperiously; "I have still a couple of words to speak with you.
Just tell me, Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun, is it you who have taught the
Electoral Prince such singular manners, or are those the fine fashions
which he has been used to at the Orange court? Is it the custom there to
make scandal at table, and to throw glasses behind them?"

"Your Electoral Highness," replied Leuchtmar hesitatingly, "I do not
know--"

"Permit me, most gracious father," interposed the Electoral Prince, while
he most respectfully drew near to his father--"permit me to answer you on
that point myself. No, it is not the fashion to behave so strangely at the
Netherland court, and God forbid that my former tutor, Baron von
Leuchtmar, should have taught me such ill manners. It was only my heart,
which for the moment was stronger than any form or fashion, and I pray you
to forgive it, for henceforth it shall be right good and quiet, and not
even cause it to be remarked that it still beats."

The Elector only answered by a silent nod of the head, and then turned
again to the baron.

"Leuchtmar," he said, "I have now a few words to address to you, and, had
you not appeared here to-day, I should have been obliged to have had you
summoned to-morrow to tell you what I have to say. You have brought the
Electoral Prince back to us, a young gentleman, who has outgrown the
schoolroom and needs no tutor; let life then receive him into its school
and play the tutor for him. But he has outgrown you and your protection,
and your office is herewith at an end. I might wish, indeed, to retain you
still near the person of my son, and so I could have done if the Electoral
Prince had married, and we had set up a princely establishment for him, as
would have become his rank. But the Electoral Prince's distinct
declaration that he will not marry for some years, even if we should
desire it, is welcome to us in so far as we shall not have to give him a
separate household, which would have been rather hard upon us in these
times of sore embarrassment. The Electoral Prince will therefore reside at
our court, simply and quietly as we ourselves, and we can not provide him
separate attendants. Therefore, you are honorably dismissed from your
office, and it will suit us no longer to confine you to our household. You
are free to seek another master, another office, and we herewith dismiss
you forever from our service. It will not, indeed, be difficult for you to
find another service, and, since you are so well disposed to the Swedes,
you would do best to repair to The Hague, or, indeed, to Sweden itself."

"If Baron von Leuchtmar will do that," exclaimed the Electress, "he shall
not want for recommendations from me, and my uncle the Stadtholder will
surely esteem it a privilege to receive into his service a man so
pre-eminently wise, learned, and trustworthy as Baron von Leuchtmar. I
will at any time write on the subject to the Stadtholder of Holland, and
tell him what a debt of gratitude we owe you, and how little able we are
to requite you. We shall further entreat him to do what is, alas!
impossible for us--to give you a good, honorable, and lucrative position
for the whole of your life."

"I thank your highness out of a sincere soul for so great a favor," softly
replied Leuchtmar. "Meanwhile I do not intend to go into any other
service, but to content myself with quiet retirement in the bosom of my
own family."

"Do just as you choose," said the Elector, "and may good fortune attend
you everywhere. Electress, give me your arm, and let us withdraw to our
own apartments. And _he_, our son, will doubtless, first of all, have to
take a most touching and tearful farewell of Leuchtmar, and sing a
mournful ditty about the cruel father who would take away from him his
nurse--that is to say, his tutor."

"No, most gracious father," cried the Electoral Prince, laughing, "I shall
sing no mournful ditty, but cheerfully second your decision. It is quite
fine to have no longer a tutor at one's side, for it makes one feel as if
he were indeed a grown-up man, no more in need of a governor; and as to
that touching and tearful parting, that is by no means called for. Herr
von Leuchtmar and I have had some hot disputes lately on the subject of
noble politics. He was too much of a Swede for me, I too much of an
Imperialist for him, and those two things accord not well together, as you
know yourself. Meanwhile, farewell, Baron von Leuchtmar, and for all the
good you have done me accept my best thanks! And now a last embrace, and
then God go with you, Herr von Leuchtmar!"

He flung his arms around Leuchtmar's neck, and pressed him closely to his
heart. "Farewell, my dear friend," he whispered, "farewell; we shall meet
again!"


"We shall meet again, my Brutus," said Leuchtmar, quite softly, and laid
his hand upon the Prince's brow, blessing him.

Frederick William felt the tears gush from his heart to his eyes, and with
a brusque movement repelled the baron. "Farewell!" he repeated hoarsely,
then hurried with quick steps through the dining hall to the door.

"Frederick William, come with us!" cried the Elector, but the Prince did
not or would not hear his call. He hurried through the antechamber and the
long corridor, and when he had gained the solitude of his own gloomy
apartments, and not until then, rang forth from his breast the long
restrained scream of agony, streamed from his eyes the long-restrained
tears. He sank down upon the old creaking armchair and wept bitterly.




VI.--REBECCA.


"Well, Master Gabriel Nietzel, here you are," said Count Schwarzenberg,
greeting the painter, who had just entered, with a gracious nod. "And it
must be granted that you are a very punctual man, for I agreed to meet you
here at Spandow by twelve o'clock, and only hear, the clock is just now
striking the hour."

"Most gracious sir, that comes from my already having stood an hour before
the gates of your palace, waiting for the blessed moment to arrive when I
might enter. I have been gazing this whole hour up at the dialplate of the
steeple clock, and it seemed to me as if an eternity of torture would
elapse while the great hour hand slowly, oh, so slowly, made its circuit
of sixty minutes."

"You are a queer creature!" cried Count Schwarzenberg, shrugging his
shoulders. "Romantic as a young girl, full of virtuous desires, and yet
not at all loath to commit certain delicate little crimes, and to pass off
copies for originals, and that not merely pictures on canvas, but pictures
in flesh and blood as well. For what else is your Rebecca but the copy of
a respectable, decent matron, whom you thought to smuggle in as an
original, while in reality she is nothing but a copy."

"In the eyes of the law and the Stadtholder perhaps, but not in the eyes
of God and of him who loves her more than his life and his eternal
salvation, for he is ready, in order to possess her, to renounce even his
honor and his peace of conscience. Oh, your excellency, be pitiful now and
let me see my Rebecca. You have given me your word, and you will not be so
cruel as to break your promise."

"I promised you nothing further than that I would intrust certain damaged
pictures to you for repairing, and that I would show you a picture which
might perhaps be familiar to you--that was all. I shall perform my
promise, and that immediately. But first, just tell me how you are
progressing with the painting I ordered of you. Perhaps you have already
with you some sketch of it? It would be peculiarly pleasant to me, for on
the day after to-morrow I give a _fete_ in my palace at Berlin, and it
would be quite opportune if I could then lay the sketch before the dear
Electoral Prince, who is to honor the _fete_ with his presence. He is a
connoisseur, and interests himself greatly in such things. Say, then, how
comes on your sketch, and can it be completed by that time?"

"It can, noble sir! But it is not possible for me to speak about that now,
for my thoughts are wandering and my heart beats as though 'twere like to
burst. If I am to become a reasonable man once more, let me--first of
all--"

"See the picture which I promised to show you?" interposed the count.
"Well, then, you shall see it, Master Gabriel Nietzel. Remember, though,
that I only show it to you on condition that you examine it in silence. So
soon as you shall venture to speak to it, it vanishes, and you see it
never more. One has to prescribe strict regulations to you, for you are
such an odd fellow, freely entertaining bad thoughts, but shrinking from
bad deeds like an innocent child. But you shall prove to me by deeds that
you are in earnest about making amends for your crime against _me_, the
world, the laws, and the Church. Only when you have done the right thing
shall you again obtain your beloved and your child, and may depart
unhindered from this country. Mark that, Master Nietzel; and now come.
Follow me to my picture gallery."

He nodded smilingly to the painter, and led the way out of the cabinet and
through a suite of magnificent apartments. At the end of these they
entered a spacious, lofty hall, whose walls were hung with great paintings.

"This is my picture gallery," said the count on entering; "now look and be
silent!"

Gabriel Nietzel remained standing near the door, and leaned against one of
its pillars. He could proceed no farther, his knees shook so, and all the
blood in his body seemed to concentrate in head and heart. He shut his
eyes, for it seemed to him that he must expire that very moment. But
finally, by a mighty effort of will, he conquered this passionate emotion,
slowly opened his eyes, and ventured to cast a weary, wandering glance
through the hall. How wonderfully solemn this broad, handsome room seemed
to him, and how devout and prayerful was his mind! A mild, clear light
fell from the glass cupola above, which alone illuminated the hall, and
displayed the pictures on the walls to the best advantage. In the middle
of the room, beside the splendid porphyry vase standing there upon its
gilded pedestal, leaned the tall, athletic form of Count Schwarzenberg,
casting a long, dark shadow upon the shining surface of the inlaid floor.
Gabriel Nietzel saw all this, and yet he felt as if he were dreaming, and
that all would vanish so soon as he should venture to move or step
forward. The count's voice aroused him from his stupefaction.

"Now, Master Nietzel, come here, for from this point you can best survey
the pictures, and judge of their merits."

Nietzel advanced with long strides, breathless from expectation, blissful
in hope. Now he stood at the count's side, and lifted his eyes to the
pictures. With one rapid glance he swept the whole wall. Paintings,
beautiful, costly paintings, but what cared he for _them_? Glorious in the
pomp of coloring, and perfect in their truth to nature, they looked down
upon him out of their broad gilt frames, but he had no senses for _them_.
His eyes fastened again and again upon that broad, massive gold frame
which hung opposite him in the center of the wall. The painting which this
frame inclosed could not be seen, for it was hidden from view by the green
silk drapery hanging before it, and at the side of the frame was suspended
a string. Gabriel Nietzel saw nothing of the paintings, he only saw the
green curtain, only the string which kept it fast. His whole soul spoke in
the glance which he directed to them.

Count Schwarzenberg intercepted this glance and smiled.

"You are certainly thinking of Raphael's exquisite Madonna," he said, "and
because that is always seen from the midst of a green curtain, you
suppose, probably, that behind this curtain must also be concealed a
Madonna and Child. Well, we shall see some day. Stay in your place, stir
not, speak not, and perhaps a miracle will take place, and you shall
behold _una Madonna col Bambino_ of flesh and blood. But silence, man, for
you well know how it is with treasure diggers: as soon as you speak, the
treasure vanishes. Now, then, look and stand still!"


He stepped across to the wall and grasped the string. The curtain flew
back and--there she stood, the Madonna with the Child in her arms, so
beautiful, so instinct with life and warmth, as only nature has ever
painted and art imitated from nature. There she stood with that richly
tinted olive complexion, with those transparent, softly reddened cheeks,
with those full crimson lips, with those large black eyes at once full of
mildness and fire, and with that broad and noble brow full of depth of
thought and yet full of repose. And in her arms that sweet child, that
vigorous boy so full of life, loosely clad in his little white shirt, that
left bare his plump arms and firm legs. Roses were on his cheeks, dimples
in his chin, and in the great black eyes lay the deep, earnest look, full
of innocence and wisdom, that is sometimes peculiar to children.

The painter had sunk upon his knees, stretching out both arms to the
picture, and from his eyes the tears flowed in clear streams over his
cheeks. But indignantly he shook them away, for they prevented him from
seeing the Madonna, _his_ Madonna. Prayers he murmured up to her, prayers
of love and confidence, supplications for steadfastness in danger, for
courageous perseverance during separation. But he ventured not to address
them audibly to the beloved Madonna, for he knew that a mere word would
have snatched her away from him.

And she, she knew it too, and therefore she also was silent. Only with her
eyes she spoke to him, and the tears which flowed from her eyes gave
eloquent reply to his. Thus they looked at one another, at once full of
bliss and pain. The child, which until now had sat quiet upon its mother's
arm, silent and as if in deep thought, suddenly began to move. Its large
eyes were fixed upon the man who lay there on his knees, and, whether it
were the result of an involuntary movement or the instinct of love, it
spread out its arms and smiled.

"My child, my darling child!" screamed Gabriel Nietzel, springing from his
knees and rushing forward with outstretched arms. But the frame with its
living picture hung too high--his arms could not reach it, his lips could
not touch that smiling, childish mouth to press upon it a father's kiss of
blessing and seal of love. "My child!" he cried again, and now, since love
had once opened his lips, silence could no longer be maintained.

"Rebecca, my beloved," he cried.

"Gabriel, my beloved," sounded down.

"You have broken your word!" cried Count Schwarzenberg angrily, and he
vehemently drew the string, so that the green curtain hastily rustled
together. But it was in vain. A rounded, powerful female arm thrust it
back, and now it was no more a Madonna with her Child who looked forth
from the green curtain, but a glowing creature, a wife flaming with
indignation and love, with defiance and grief.

"Nobody shall hinder me from looking at you, from speaking to you!" she
cried. "I _will_ see you, Gabriel. I _will_ tell you, that I love you and
am true to you. I _will_ tell you that I would rather go barefoot through
the world, begging with you and the child, than to live longer in this
count's grand castle, amid splendor, without you. Gabriel, rescue me from
this place; do all that they require of you, only take me away from here."

"Rebecca, I will rescue you, for I can not live without you--without you
the world is a desert to me. You are my sun and the light of my life."

"Gabriel, release me, while yet there is time. They will make a Christian
of me, and I shall renounce my faith and my salvation, in order to be with
you again, but afterward I shall die of repentance."

"Rebecca, I shall release you, and I too am ready to renounce my salvation
in order to be with you. But I will not die of repentance, for I shall
have you again, and when I look upon you and the child I shall feel no
repentance."

"Gabriel, release me, give back to me my happiness, my home, my family.
For you are all that to me, and without you the world is a desert."

"Without you the world is a wilderness, Rebecca. Swear to me that you love
me!"

"I swear to you, by the God of my fathers, that I love you!"

"And would you love me if the whole world despised me?"

"What matters the world to me? Would I still love you? I would love you
more fervently yet if all the world despised you, for then you would be
like me. They despise me too, and turn away contemptuously from me, and
yet I have done nothing bad."

"Would you love me, Rebecca, even if I had committed a crime?"

"What do men call crime? Do they not say that you commit a crime in loving
me? Would they not say, too, that the priest who blessed our union was a
criminal? Be whatever you may, do what you will, I shall love you still.
Your soul is my soul, and my heart is your heart. Release me, Gabriel,
release me!"

"I will release you, Rebecca; in four days you shall be free, and we shall
journey away from here, and return to Italy, never to leave it again."

"To Italy!" rejoiced she--"to my home! Oh, my Gabriel, I shall not merely
love you, I shall worship you--you will be to me the Saviour, the Messiah,
in whom my people have hoped so long! I--"

"Now that is enough," cried Count Schwarzenberg, who had been silent
hitherto, because he felt well how much Rebecca's words forwarded his own
plans. "Now that is enough of refractoriness! Come, Gabriel Nietzel, and
you, Rebecca, step back, or I shall have your child taken away, and you
shall never see it again!"

"Go, Rebecca, go!" cried Gabriel Nietzel cheerfully. "You remain with me,
even if you go, and I shall still see and speak to you when I am far from
you. Four days only, and then we shall be reunited!"

"I am going, Gabriel! I shall spend all these four days praying for you--to
your and my God!"

"Sir Count!" cried Nietzel in cheerful tones--"Sir Count, let us now
return to your cabinet. I have something important to communicate to you."

He cast not another look up at the curtain; he had no longer any sense of
pain in her disappearance, but this was his one absorbing thought, that in
four days he would again embrace his Rebecca, and that it lay in the power
of his own hands to deserve her. With firm steps he followed the count,
who now again led him out of the hall and into his cabinet.


"Well, speak, Master Gabriel!" cried the count; "what have you to say to
me?"

Nietzel drew a paper from his breast pocket, and handed it to the count.
"See, your excellency, here is the sketch of the painting I am to make for
you."

"Truly, a precious sketch," said Schwarzenberg, examining the paper
attentively. "That looks like a Holy Supper."

"It is no Holy Supper, but a very unholy dinner."

"In the middle of the table I see sitting a man and a youth. The man wears
a crown upon his head and the youth wears a princely coronet."

"It is the Elector and the Electoral Prince," explained Gabriel Nietzel.

"Yes, indeed, the portraits are theirs. And beside them sits the
Electress, and beside her I see myself, and quite gorgeously have you
dressed me, with a princely ermined mantle about my shoulders and a
prince's diadem upon my brow. But what is that which I hold in my hand and
offer to the Electress?"

"It is a lachrymatory, your excellency."

"And yet the Electress smiles, Sir Painter."

"She takes the lachrymatory for a golden vase, which your excellency is
presenting to her as a present."

"You are witty, it seems, Master Gabriel," said the count sharply. "But
that your portraits are good must be admitted, and your sketch is
altogether charming. Only you have sketched for me there a joyous
festival, and, if I remember rightly, I ordered of you a picture which
should represent the death of Julius Caesar, or some such murderous
occasion. But I see no dagger and no murderer in this sketch."

"Only look at that man standing behind the Electoral Prince."

"Ah, I see him now. Why, master, that is your own likeness!"

"Yes, your excellency, my own likeness. You grant me your permission,
then, to appear at the feast?"

"Why not? Paul Veronese, too, has introduced his own portrait among those
of his banqueters. What is your image there handing to the Electoral
Prince in that basket?"

"A piece of white bread, most gracious sir, nothing more."

"Ah, a piece of white bread! You have become, it seems, the young
Electoral Prince's lackey, have laid your character as artist upon the
shelf, and become body page to the gracious Prince?"

"It seems so, most gracious sir," replied Nietzel with solemn voice. "But
see here, the truth lies on this page."

And he handed the count a second sheet of paper.

"What do I see? Something seems to have disturbed the banquet."

"Yes, your excellency, very greatly disturbed it. Do you still see the man
who stood behind the Electoral Prince?"

"No, I see him nowhere."

"He has fled, your excellency. He is the murderer of the Electoral Prince,
who is borne out senseless."

"Of the Electoral Prince? Conrad the Third, you mean! For was it not the
murder of the last of the Hohenstaufens which you promised me?"

"Yes, your excellency, and I will perform my promise if the sketch pleases
you."

"It pleases me very much, and it suits me perfectly," replied the count,
whose glance remained ever directed to the two sketches. "Yes, yes," he
continued slowly, "I understand, and the design has my approval, for it is
simple and natural. You have your plan complete in your head?"

"Quite complete, your excellency."

"Then it is not necessary to talk any more about it, or to preserve the
sketches," said the count, slowly tearing the two papers into little bits.

"You are right, count, it is not necessary to preserve the sketches, since
I soon expect to carry them out on a large scale. But we have something
else to talk about, your excellency."

Schwarzenberg looked in amazement at the painter, whose voice had now lost
its reverential expression, and was very firm and determined.

"We have only to speak upon such subjects as I may choose, master," he
said haughtily.

"No, Sir Count," retorted Nietzel decidedly; "but we have to speak about
what follows the completion of my painting. We must speak of _that_, even
should it not please your excellency. On Sunday your banquet takes place;
on that day I should like to set off for Italy with my wife and child,
and leave Germany forever."

"Do so, Master Nietzel, I strongly advise you to do so."

"Will your excellency condescend to assist me thereto?"

"Joyfully, from the bottom of my heart, my dear Nietzel. You would travel
to Italy. First of all you want funds for your journey, I suppose. Here,
Master Nietzel, here I transmit to you a pocketbook containing twelve
hundred dollars--your pension, which I pay you in advance for two years."

"I thank your excellency," said Gabriel, taking the pocketbook. "The
principal thing, though, is, how am I to get at my wife and child? Am I to
come here to fetch them away?"

"Not so, Master Nietzel. I shall send Rebecca and the child to you at your
lodgings in Berlin."

"Before or after the banquet?"

"After the banquet, of course."

"But if you do not do so, your excellency. If you should forget your
promise to poor Gabriel Nietzel?"

"Ah! you mistrust me, do you, Mr. Gabriel Nietzel?"

"Do you not mistrust me, too, Sir Count? Have you not taken my Rebecca and
my child as pledges for my keeping my word? Have you not deprived me of
what is most precious to me in this world, not to be restored until I have
fulfilled my oath to you? But what pledge have I that you will keep your
word, and what means have I for forcing you to fulfill your oath to me?"

"You have my word as security--the word of a nobleman, who has never yet
forfeited his pledge," said Count Schwarzenberg solemnly. "I swear to you
that on the day of the banquet your Rebecca and your child shall be at
your lodgings in Berlin, and that you will find them there on your return
from the banquet. I swear this by the Holy Virgin Mary and by Jesus Christ
the only-begotten Son, and in affirmation of my solemn oath I lay my right
hand here upon this crucifix."

The count strode across to his escritoire, and laid his hand upon the
crucifix of alabaster and gold, which stood upon it. "I swear and vow," he
cried, "that next Sunday I shall send to Gabriel Nietzel's lodging his
Rebecca and her child, and that he shall find them there when he returns
from the banquet. Are you content now, Master Gabriel Nietzel?"

"I am content, Sir Count. Farewell! And God grant that we may never meet
again on earth!"

He greeted the count with a passing inclination of his head, and left the
apartment without waiting for his dismissal.




VII.--THE OFFER.


"And now," murmured Gabriel Nietzel to himself, as he stepped out upon the
street--"now for work, without hesitancy and without delay, for there is
no other way of escaping from that cruel tiger who has me in his clutches.
He is athirst for blood, and I must sacrifice to him the blood of another
man in order to save that of my wife and child! But, woe to him, woe, if
he does not keep his word, if he acts the part of traitor toward me! But I
will not think of that, I dare not think of it, for I have need of all my
presence of mind in order to prepare everything. First, I must speak to
the Electoral Prince; that is the most important thing."

He went back to Berlin, and repaired forthwith to the palace. The
Electoral Prince was at home, and the lackey who had announced the court
painter Gabriel Nietzel now reverentially opened for him the door of the
princely apartment.

"Well, here you are, my dear Gabriel," cried the Electoral Prince affably.
"Welcome, to receive my thanks for the zeal and dispatch with which you
attended to the removal of my effects. Truly you merit praise, for I am
told that you arrived in Berlin before me. We had contrary winds, it is
true, and had to lie at anchor before Cuxhaven for fourteen days. Well,
say, master, how are you pleased with Berlin?"

"Very well, your highness," replied Nietzel gloomily, looking into the
pale, sad countenance of the Electoral Prince with a glance full of
strange meaning.

"Why do you look so inquiringly at me, master?" asked the Prince restively.

"Pardon me, most gracious sir, I will not do so again," said Gabriel,
casting down his eyes. "I have something to say to your highness, and I
would fain gather the needed courage therefore from your countenance."

"Do so then, master, look at me and speak."

"Step into the middle of the room, gracious sir, and permit me to come
close to you; then I will speak, for I shall know then that no one can
overhear us."

The Electoral Prince did as Gabriel requested. The latter stepped close up
to his side. "Most gracious sir," said he, "have you confidence in me?"

"Yes, Gabriel Nietzel, I have confidence in you."

"Then hear what I have to tell you. Ask no questions, require no
intelligence and explanations. Hear my warning, and act accordingly. Count
Schwarzenberg plots against your life!"

"Do you believe that?" said the Electoral Prince, smiling.

"He has invited you to a feast, which is to tak