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."