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 Königsberg, 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 Müller, 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 Müller 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
Müller, 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--"