"No, I do not go too far!" cried the Prince, beside himself. His

countenance was deadly pale, his eyes flashed, and his whole being seemed

pervaded by the fire of wrath and hatred. "No, I do not go too far, and my

hatred does not carry me away! He is the evil demon of my house--of my

country! He is to blame for all the disasters of the last twenty years,

for all the humiliation and shame by which my family has been visited. The

Mark is to be ruined--that is his end, that is his aim; the Electoral

house of Brandenburg must die out--that is his hope; and he will leave

untried no means whereby this hope may become reality. He has already

tried once to murder me,[22] and he will try it again. A dagger's point

lurks in each glance that he fixes upon me, a drop of poison in each word

that he directs to me. If I stood alone with him upon the summit of a

tower, he would hurl me down, and then afterward follow my coffin with a

thousand tears! And my father would lean upon him, and thank God that only

his son had been snatched from him, not his friend, his favorite; and my

mother would weep for me, and yet go about in mourning which he had

presented to her, and she would esteem it a peculiar act of amiability if

he should exert himself to divert her mind and raise her spirits. No voice

would be raised against him, and no one would venture to accuse him, for

my father himself would protect him, and the grace and favor of the

Emperor would speak him clear of any suspicion. He is my master, my

lord--that is what fills me with rage and indignation; and I will surely

die of this if the count does not succeed in dispatching me first, and

putting me out of the way."

"He will not venture to attempt that, for he knows public opinion would

accuse and denounce him as the murderer."

"What cares he for public opinion, what asks he about it--_he_ who has

power to repress it, _he_ who stands so secure that it can not touch

_him_?"

"Nobody stands so high, Prince, that public opinion can not reach him and

dash him into the depths below, for public opinion is the voice of the

nation, and the voice of the nation is the voice of God! And believe me,

Prince, this voice will one day accuse and sentence him."

"Yes, one day perhaps, when he has thrust me out of the way and murdered

me, when my father has gone to his last home, when the Emperor has

pronounced the Mark of Brandenburg an unincumbered fief, and bestowed it

as an act of grace upon Count Schwarzenberg or his son. Oh, I know all his

plans, and I know that no moment of my life is henceforth secure--know

that I am a victim of death if prudence and cunning do not save me! I

thought of all this during my long journey to this place. I have weighed

all, pondered all, and my whole future lay before me like a white sheet of

paper. I saw a hand unroll it, and with bloody letters inscribe the word

'Death'; but I saw this word blotted out by a cautious finger, and, ere it

was written to the end, replaced by the word 'Life' in characters small

and hardly visible. Yes, I _will_ live, _will_ reign, _will_ have fame,

honor, and influence, _will_ make a name for myself! Leuchtmar, I have

left behind in Holland my youth, my hopes, my dreams, my heart! I come

here as a man, despite my eighteen years, as a man who from the wreck of

his youth will save only this: the future and fame! A man, who has

suffered so much, that he can say of himself: I defy pain, and it has no

longer any power over me! I defy life, and _will_ conquer it! Yes,

Leuchtmar, I _will_ conquer it; and although I no longer love it, I do not

mean to allow it to be snatched away from me. Hear me, friend, for to-day

is the last time for a long while that I may speak openly and candidly to

you. I entreat you, guide of my youth, to preserve for me your friendship

and your faith. I beseech you never to lose confidence in me, and, if ever

a doubt should intrude itself with regard to me, to remember this hour, in

which I have laid bare to you my heart, and in which you have been a

witness to my indignation and grief, my excitement and hatred! You are

familiar with my countenance, friend; impress it upon your memory, in

order that you may never forget it, even if you should not see it for a

long time again. Look once more in my eyes, and read in my glances my love

and reverence for you!"

"I do look into your eyes, son of my heart," said Leuchtmar, deeply moved.

"I look through your eyes into your soul, into your heart, and read

therein great determination and heroic aims. Strive after them, my

favorite, and when the present seems to you dark and gloomy, then lift

your eye to the glittering star, which hovers over you and is your

future. To endure evil, and still to remain joyful and valiant, therein

lies true heroism. To turn from the dust of earthly needs, to step over it

with head held heavenward, thereby is true faith proved. God bless you, my

son! Be brave, be wise, be true! Trust in yourself, your friends, your

people, and your God; then is the future yours, and you will overcome all

your foes, and will triumph over the proud man who now thinks that he

triumphs over you. I said to you, be brave, be wise, be true. I forgot one

thing, though, which I shall now add--_be circumspect_! Remember that

oftentimes it is not the sword which carries off the victory, but cunning;

remember Brutus, who freed Rome."

"Oh, my friend, you have spoken truth," exclaimed the Prince; "you have

read to the bottom of my soul, and understood my inmost thoughts. Now am I

glad and full of confidence, for my friend and teacher will never doubt

me. And hear one thing more, my Leuchtmar. You must accept a memento of

this hour, a memento which I prepared even before my departure from The

Hague, and which shall be to you a proof of my gratitude. I am poor and

powerless, and as I build all my hopes upon the future, so must I do with

my presents as well. You must accept from me a gift of my future, friend.

I know full well that what you have done for me can not be recompensed,

but I would so gladly testify my gratitude to you, and therefore I give

you this paper!"

He drew forth a paper from his pocketbook, and handed it to Leuchtmar with

a friendly smile. "Take it and read," he said.

Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun took the paper, and fastened his eyes upon the

words, which were inscribed in large letters on the outside.

"A Deed of Expectancy!" he said, astonished.

The Electoral Prince nodded. "A deed of expectancy, written with my own

hand and sealed with my own signet ring. Yes, yes, my friend, I have

nothing to give away but expectations; yet if the Electoral Prince should

ever become Elector, he will convert these expectations into reality and

truth. Now unfold the paper, and see what manner of expectation it holds

out."

"An act, donating the feudal tenure of Neuenhof, lying within the

territories of Cleves!" cried Leuchtmar joyfully. "Oh, my dear Prince,

that is truly a princely gift!"

"Yet it is not the Prince, but the grateful scholar who gives it to you,"

said Frederick William, "and in proof of this I have written these words,

which I will read to you myself." He bent over the paper, and read: "We

have voluntarily and with due consideration promised and engaged to give

to Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun this estate of Neuenhof, out of the

particular and friendly affection which we bear to him. We also swear that

if we hereafter attain to power and authority, and our much-esteemed

Romilian von Leuchtmar be to our sorrow cut off by death, we in the same

way will this estate to his eldest son, and grant him the enjoyment of all

that we assigned and destined for his father in his lifetime."[23]

"That is indeed to carry happiness and reward beyond the grave!" cried

Leuchtmar, with tears in his eyes. "Oh, I thank you, my Prince, thank you

from my inmost soul, for myself and my children!"

"You have nothing at all to thank me for, friend," said the Prince. "I

shall ever be much more in your debt. If, however, I some day become a

good Prince to my country and a father to my people, then you must reflect

that this is the return I make to you, my teacher, my educator! You see I

hope in the future, and think that I shall succeed in evading murderous

designs and fulfill my aims. But, indeed, your warning I may never forget,

and circumspect I _must_ be first of all. Wear a mask, as Brutus did! Let

me embrace you once more, friend Leuchtmar; look me once more in the eye.

And now--I hear some one coming! Farewell, Leuchtmar! I put on my mask and

not for a moment can I withdraw it from my features."

V.--BRUTUS.

The door was now opened, a valet entered and announced, "Her highness the

Electress!" And before the Electoral Prince had time to advance, the

Electress had entered the room.

"I come to welcome you once more, my Frederick!" she cried, stretching out

her arms to her son. "Entirely without witnesses, simply as his mother

would I greet my son, and tell him how happy I am that he is once more

here."

She flung her arms around her son's neck, and pressed him ardently to her

bosom. Baron Leuchtmar, who upon the Electress's approach had stepped

aside, now crept softly through the apartment to the door, and was already

in the act of opening it, when the Electress quickly raised her head and

looked around.

"Stay where you are, Baron Leuchtmar," she said; "why would you slip away

from us?"

"I may not presume by my presence to disturb the confidential discourse

between the Electress and her son."

"You do not disturb us at all, for you belong to us, Leuchtmar," replied

Charlotte Elizabeth, nodding kindly to him. "On the contrary, I will tell

you that I knew you were here, and came here on that very account, in

order to salute you without witnesses, and to have a private conversation

with you and my son. For well I know, Leuchtmar, that we may confide in

you, and that you belong to _us_--that is to say, to the enemies of

Schwarzenberg, to the enemies of the Imperialists and Catholics, to the

friends of the Swedes and Reformers."

"Your highness may be well assured that I return home just as I went

away," said Leuchtmar earnestly--"that is to say, an upright Protestant, a

true Brandenburger, and a determined opponent of those who concluded the

peace of Prague, and thereby separated the Elector of Brandenburg from the

Swedes, and made him wholly and solely subservient to the Emperor's

interests."

"You will not name _him_, the evildoer, who has brought this to pass,"

cried the Electress, "but I will name him: it is Count Schwarzenberg! It

is the Stadtholder in the Mark, who has brought upon us all this mischief

and disgrace, who has sundered us from our nearest blood relations, the

family of the Swedish King, and has leagued us with and subjected us to

those who are our sworn enemies and adversaries, the Imperialists, the

Austrians. Oh, my son! promise me that you will some day take vengeance

for the ignominy and humiliation which we must now undergo. Swear in this

first hour of your return home, solemnly joining hands with me, that as

soon as you come into power the first act of your government shall be to

renounce allegiance to the Emperor and to ally yourself again with the

Swedes, our natural allies."

She stretched out her right hand to her son. "Swear, my son!" she cried,

solemnly, "give me your hand upon it!"

But Frederick William did not lay his hand within hers. He drew back,

declining her proffered hand.

"Forgive me, my dearest mother," he said, "forgive me; but I can not

swear, for I do not know whether I could keep my oath! May the good God

long preserve my gracious father's life, and grant him a glorious reign.

But if hereafter, and surely to my deepest regret, duty and the right of

Succession deliver into my hands the reins of government, then I must

guide them, as circumstances direct, as determined by the contingencies of

the times and the good of the country; and I dare not bind myself

beforehand by any given word or by promises."

"You refuse, my son, to promise me that you will make amends for all the

evil done by that wicked enemy of your house, your family, and your

country?"

"Dearest mother, I know not of whom you speak, and who it is that has

burdened himself with so heinous a crime."

With impulsive movement the Electress laid her hand upon his arm, and

looked him steadily in the eye.

"Are you dissembling, or is that the truth?" she asked. "You do not know

of whom I speak? You do not know who is the enemy of your house and

family?"

"I am trying in vain to study it out, mother, and I beg you not to be

angry with me on that account, for your grace must reflect that I have

been absent almost four years, and am therefore a little unacquainted with

the situation of affairs here. If you had addressed that question to me

before my departure, most assuredly I should have replied without

hesitation, 'It is Count Schwarzenberg!' But I have since then found out

that I had done the count injustice in many things through my inexperience

and want of foresight; that he is a very great and experienced statesman

and politician, who with his far-seeing glances can discern much more

clearly than I with my unpracticed eyes the relations of things. Who knows

but that, after all, the peace of Prague has been a real blessing to our

land. When I behold its present pitiable and languishing condition as a

neutral, how can I avoid reflecting with horror upon what might have been

the state of things had we joined any decided war party. Had we sided

with the Swedes, the enmity of the powerful Emperor, vastly surpassing us

in material resources, would long since have destroyed us root and branch,

and my dear father would have most probably shared the same lamentable

fate as the Elector of the Palatinate, his brother-in-law, or the Margrave

of Liegnitz and Jägerndorf, his cousin. He must have wandered with wife

and children an exile in foreign lands, or died of grief among strangers.

On the other hand, had we sided with the Emperor against the Swedes, a

raging, implacable foe would have quartered himself in the heart of our

dominions, and not merely Pomerania, but the Mark and the duchy of Prussia

would have been overrun-by his warlike hordes. But on my journey hither I

have witnessed the misery and unspeakable wretchedness of our land, and

asked myself with heavy, sorrowing heart what would have become of our

unhappy country in times of war if neutrality could reduce it to such

poverty and plunge it in such want and suffering. And then I was forced to

acknowledge that Count Schwarzenberg had acted right well as Stadtholder

in the Mark in wishing, before all things, to preserve the Mark intrusted

to him from yet greater calamity, by holding it to that neutrality, being

alike impartial between the Emperor and the Swedes. I therefore begged his

pardon in my heart for having often accused him unjustly before, for he is

indeed a faithful and zealous servant to his master, and especially

endeavors to further his interests, to maintain his position, and to

console him in these times of affliction. I see, too, that not merely the

Elector holds him in high estimation, and honors him as his true and

valued counselor and friend, but that my mother as well has taken him into

her favor, and that she has quite recovered from the mistrust with which

she previously regarded him. For surely it is a proof of great favor when

the Electress allows the count to offer presents of dresses to herself and

her daughters, and no one of us can mistrust _him_, who so cordially

rejoices over my return that he volunteers to celebrate it by a splendid

festival. The whole Electoral family has accepted the invitation to this

festival, and thereby prove to Berlin, yea, to the whole country, that we

are on the best terms with the Stadtholder, and that nothing has

transpired which could shake our confidence in him.'"

The Electress had listened to her son with ever-growing amazement. Her

glances had grown more and more indignant; she had often turned from her

son to Leuchtmar, as if to read in his features whether or not he shared

her astonishment and irritation. Now, when the Prince was silent, she

stepped across to Leuchtmar, and laid her hand upon his arm.

"Leuchtmar," she asked with trembling voice, "is he in earnest? Has he

actually altered so entirely? Has he really gone over to our enemies and

adversaries?"

"Most gracious lady, the Electoral Prince is by far too tender a son ever

to become alienated from his mother," replied the baron earnestly.

"He speaks the truth, my dearest mother," exclaimed Frederick William,

nearing his mother. "Never could I alter toward you, never forget the

gratitude and love I owe you, never go over to your enemies and

adversaries. But why should we carry politics into private life, and what

have Swedes and Imperialists, Catholics and Reformers to do with our

family life and our domestic circle? Let us hand politics over to those

whose duty it is to deal with them; let us not seek to meddle in the

government, for we have no right to do so, and should step aside for those

who understand matters far better than we do, and who manage the machine

of state with as much foresight as wisdom. I, at least, am determined to

hold myself aloof from all such burdensome affairs, to enjoy my youth and

freedom, and I thank God that I have not to bear the weight of

administering the government, but have only the pleasant task allotted me

of permitting myself to be governed!"

"It is not possible!" cried the Electress, with an outburst of

passion--"no, it is not possible that _my_ son can so speak and think! O

Leuchtmar! what have you made of my son? Who has changed him, my darling,

my only son? I hoped that he would come back a hero, around whom would

cluster all those who are true to our house, our faith, and our

fatherland! I hoped that in him I should find a refuge against the

aggressions, the villainy, and the wiles of my enemy! I hoped that the son

would succeed in winning back his father's heart, and turning him against

that proud man who rules him entirely, and who will crush us all. O God!

my God! for three long years I have been looking forward to his return as

the time of vengeance and retribution, and now that son is here, and what

do I find in him? A son weakly obedient to his father, a submissive

admirer of Count Schwarzenberg, a weakling who longs not at all for honor

and influence, who is glad that he has not to govern and work, but that

others must govern and work for him! Alas! I am a poor mother, and much to

be pitied, for in vain have I hoped that my son would assist me to avenge

the misfortunes of my house, and punish and bring my enemies to account!"

She covered her face with her hands, weeping aloud. The Electoral Prince

gave her a look of mingled grief and pain, took one hurried step forward,

as if he would go to her, and encircle her in his arms, then paused,

retreated slowly, gently, ever farther from the spot where she still stood

with face concealed and sobbing aloud. It was as if an invisible hand

continually drew him farther from his mother, ever nearer the door of the

antechamber. Now he stood close to it, leaned against it, and--was the old

castle so disjointed, or had the Electoral Prince with sudden touch

pressed upon the latch?--the door flew open. The Electoral Prince fell

backward into the antechamber, and, had it not been for the Electress's

valet, against whom he stumbled, would have fallen to the ground.

"By my faith!" he cried, while he nodded to the lackey, who stood there

with red face and deep embarrassment of manner--"by my faith! it was a

piece of good luck for me that you were standing so near the door, my

friend, else I should probably have had a bad fall. This rickety old

castle must be repaired. One can not even lean against the doors without

their flying open!"

He nodded to the lackey, who stood there in confusion, not having at all

recovered his self-possession, and stepped back into the room. In passing,

his eye caught that of Leuchtmar, who replied by a nod of assent, stolen

and significant; then he approached the Electress, who, surprised by this

sudden and unexpected interlude, had let her hands glide from before her

face, and now dried her tears.

"I beg my revered mother's pardon for disturbing her so ridiculously," he

said, seizing her hand and pressing it to his lips. "It was not my fault,

and only occasioned by the insecure fastening upon the door. It was by a

right fortunate accident that your grace commanded your valet to station

himself close to the door of the cabinet, for he thereby saved me from an

unpleasant fall."

"I did not command the lackey to station himself in your sleeping

apartment," said the Electress, "and consider it contrary to all rules of

propriety."

She rapidly crossed the study and opened the door just as the lackey was

slinking through the one opposite.

"Frederick, come here!" cried the Electress, and with head sunk and

humbled mien the lackey came a few paces nearer.

"Did I not order you to wait for me in the antechamber, and to forewarn us

of the approach of any one else?" asked the Electress.

"Your highness," replied the lackey humbly, "I followed your grace's

orders exactly, and stood here in the antechamber and kept guard, but

nobody came."

"But this is not the antechamber, you blockhead!" cried the Electress. "It

is there, without! Go out there and wait!"

The lackey made haste to obey the order given him, and the Electress

turned to the Prince. "I beg you, my son, to pardon the man his

stupidity," said she; "but he deserves some indulgence in so far as he has

only been in our service for a short while, and consequently is not well

acquainted with the plan of the palace. My valet fell sick on the journey

from Königsberg here, and we were obliged to leave him behind, which was

so much the more inconvenient as he was our hairdresser besides, and

understood how to arrange the Elector's hair as well as my own and the

young ladies'. Count Schwarzenberg heard of it, and by a piece of good

fortune, was able to spare us one of his valets."

"Oh!" cried the Electoral Prince, smiling. "This fellow, then, has been

transferred from the Stadtholder's service to that of your grace?"

"Yes, and I must say that he is a very useful and efficient servant, who

understands all the newest styles of French hairdressing, and is well

skilled in other ways also. I beg you therefore to excuse him for this

little mistake."

"He is perfectly excusable," said the Electoral Prince, bowing. "So much

the more excusable, as it might well happen that he is not yet familiar

with this castle."

"It is true," cried the Electress, casting her eyes around the room, "it

does look a little dilapidated and desolate here, and care ought indeed to

have been taken to refurnish your apartments and give them a more

comfortable aspect. You know, Frederick, we only expect to tarry here for

a short time, and think of returning to Prussia very soon, and there I

shall see myself that you are provided with handsomer and more commodious

rooms. There I am the princely lady of the house, and everywhere reigning

duchess, while here, in the resident palace of Berlin, I seem to myself

only a guest, who has nothing at all to say in the directing of the

household, but must silently acquiesce in everything. And it _is_ so, too,

and has come to this pass, that the Stadtholder in the Mark is the only

ruling lord and commander, and the Elector seems to come here only as the

Stadtholder's guest."

"The Stadtholder, though, seems at least a right polite and splendid

host," remarked the Electoral Prince, smiling, "a host who lays himself

out to attend to the comfort and entertainment--nay, even to the

wardrobes--of his noble guests."

"Your Electoral Highnesses!" cried an advancing lackey--"your Electoral

Highnesses, the steward of the household is without, and announces that

dinner is served, and that the Elector and the young ladies have already

repaired to the dining hall."

"Then let us go too, my son," said the Electress, offering her hand to the

Electoral Prince.

"But, most gracious mother, I still have on my traveling suit, and--"

"My son," sighed the Electress, "your traveling suit is so showy and

elegant that I can only wish that in the future your court dress may

always be so handsome. Come, give me your arm, and let us hurry, for your

father does not like to be kept waiting, and is very punctual at

mealtimes. You, Baron von Leuchtmar, follow us. We herewith invite you to

be our guest, and to accompany us to table."

The Electress took the Prince's proffered arm, and swept through the door

held open for her by the lackey. The steward of the household, who had

awaited them in the antechamber, golden staff in hand, now preceded them,

the lackeys flew before them to open the doors, and through a suite of

gloomy, deserted rooms, with old-fashioned, dusty, and half-decayed

furniture, moved the princely pair, followed by Baron von Leuchtmar,

behind whom strutted the lackeys at a respectful distance. The Elector

stood with the two Princesses in the deep recess of the great window, when

his wife and son entered; he greeted them both with a short nod of the

head, and, casting a dark, unfriendly glance at Baron von Leuchtmar, who

was reverentially approaching him, gave his arm to his wife, and led her

to the two upper places at the oblong table.

"It seems our son can not dispense with his tutor," said he, in a low,

peevish tone of voice to the Electress. "He brings his tutor to dine with

us, as if it were a matter of course."

"I beg your pardon, George," whispered the Electress. "I invited the

baron, whom I found in our son's room. Do me the favor to receive him

affably. He has bestowed much labor and love upon our son, and has ever

been a faithful servant to us."

"To you, perhaps, but not to me," muttered the Elector, while he allowed

himself to sink down in his great, round easychair, thereby giving the

signal for dinner to commence.

The hours of dinner were usually those in which George William was

accustomed to dismiss all the cares and anxieties of government, and to

give himself up with cheerful countenance to harmless conversation with

his wife and daughters.

At times he even loved to carry on a lively chat with those court

officials who were present, at the table, or to amuse himself with hearing

their recital of the events of the day or the gossip of the town. But

to-day the Elector remained gloomy and taciturn. He left it to his wife to

lead the conversation, and get from the Electoral Prince accounts of her

dear relations at the Dutch court. The Prince answered all her questions,

confining himself meanwhile to the duly necessary, and never

spontaneously adding anything or entering into any details as to his own

life and residence at the court of Holland. The Elector continued to

listen in moody silence, and this reserve on the part of his son seemed to

put him still more out of humor. His face continually grew darker, and he

even disdainfully pushed away untasted his favorite dish, a wild boar's

head, served up with lemons in its mouth, after it had been presented to

him for the third time.

"You have been beating about the bush long enough now, Electress!" he

cried warmly. "You have made inquiries after all possible things, except

the principal matter and person in whom you are at bottom most interested.

It might have been expected that our Electoral Prince would have begun

himself, since 'out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.' But

our young gentleman remains elegantly monosyllabic, and it would seem that

he is not at all overjoyed upon his return to the poverty-stricken, quiet

house of his father. It is true, he has lived in much handsomer style at

the Orange court, lived there, indeed, amid plenty and pleasure--by the

way, we can sing a little song on that subject, for our son has seen well

to the outlay, but the payment all fell to the lot of us at home. But now,

sir, now tell us a little of the petty court at Doornward, of our

sister-in-law, the widowed Countess of the Palatinate, and finally, what

I know your mother thinks the principal thing, finally tell us also about

her beautiful and fascinating daughter, the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine."

The Prince slightly shuddered. At the mention of this name, which he had

not heard since his departure from The Hague, he could not prevent the

ebbing of all his heart's blood, and a deadly pallor overspread his

cheeks. He cast down his eyes, and yet felt that all eyes were turned upon

him with questioning, curious glances. But this very consciousness

restored to him his self-possession and composure. Once more he raised his

head with a vigorous start, shook back into their place the brown locks

which had fallen down over forehead and cheeks, and met the Elector's

looks of inquiry with a full, intrepid gaze.

"Most gracious father," he said, with quiet, passionless voice, "very

little can be said about the petty court of Doornward. Our aunt, the

Electress of the Palatinate, reflects with sorrow upon the past; the three

Princesses, her daughters, and their three little brothers, reflect with

hope upon the future, and of the present therefore but little is to be

told."

"They must be very beautiful, those Princesses of the Palatinate, are

they not?" asked the Elector.

"I believe they are," replied the Prince composedly.

"He only believes so!" cried his father. "Just see how they have slandered

him, for they would have had us believe that he knew exactly, and was

quite peculiarly edified by the beauty of the Princesses of the

Palatinate."

"And why should he not have been, your highness?" asked the Electress,

smiling. "The Princesses of the Palatinate are our own cousins, and it

seems very natural, surely, that he should have a cordial, cousinly regard

for them."

"Maybe, Electress!" cried George William, "but it were to be wished that

it had stopped there! I should like, therefore, to hear something about

the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine. Is she, indeed, so very fair as report

represents her to be?"

"Yes," replied the Prince, with husky voice--"yes, she is very fair. Only

question Leuchtmar on the subject; he can confirm what I say."

"I prefer to question yourself," said the Elector, with inexorable

cruelty, "and to learn something more concerning your fair cousin from

your own lips. We have been informed that the Princess Ludovicka

Hollandine is a very lively, merry young lady, and that she is by no means

disinclined to become our daughter-in-law."

"But, my husband," pleaded the Electress in an undertone, "you would not

speak of such confidential matters in the presence of our court, and--"

"Ah, Electress!" interrupted George William, "these confidential matters

have been bruited abroad everywhere; the talk has been, not merely here at

Berlin, but throughout the land, yea, even so far as the imperial court at

Vienna, that our son meant to surprise us on his return from the

Netherlands by presenting to us the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine as his

wife, without applying to us beforehand for our consent. I therefore

desire that the Electoral Prince answer me openly and candidly, that we

may all know once and forever how the matter stands, and what we have to

expect. The good, gossiping city of Berlin, the whole land, even the

imperial court and the whole world, which seems to interest itself so much

in the marriage of our Prince, will then soon have an opportunity of

learning directly and reliably what is the state of affairs, and that is

exactly what seems to me desirable, and was the motive for our question.

Therefore, let our son tell us how matters stand between the Princess

Ludovicka Hollandine and himself."

The Electoral Prince sat with downcast eyes. His cheeks were still deadly

pale, and on his high, broad brow rested a threatening cloud. He put his

hand around the stem of the large glass goblet before him, and held it so

firmly that the glass broke with startling clangor and poured its purple

wine upon the tablecloth. The shrill clinking seemed to rouse him from his

reverie; with a hasty movement he threw a napkin over the red stain, and

again raised his eyes, slowly and tranquilly.

"Your Electoral Highnesses desire me to tell you the truth with regard to

all the reports circulated as to a marriage between the Princess Ludovicka

Hollandine and myself," he said. "I will, therefore, as becomes an

obedient and submissive son, acquaint you with the truth. And the truth is

this," he continued, with raised voice, while at the same time his cheeks

became suddenly scarlet and his eyes flashed with the fire of

inspiration--"the truth is this: the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine is the

prettiest, sweetest woman in the whole world; happy and enviable is the

man whose fortunate destiny will permit him to take her home as his bride,

blessed above all men he on whom this noble, fascinating, and amiable

girl bestows her love, whom she allows to enjoy the treasures of her mind

and heart. Your highness said that the Princess Hollandine was not ill

inclined to become your daughter-in-law. On that point I can give you no

information, for I perceived nothing of this inclination; but this I can

and must confess, that _I_ experienced the most glowing desire to make

the Princess your daughter-in-law; this I must confess, that I have loved

the beautiful, witty, and charming Princess Hollandine with my whole soul

and from the very depths of my heart. But never would I have ventured to

make the noble Princess my wife in opposition to your will, father; and

since I must admit that a union with her is not in accordance with your

wishes, and that it is opposed by policy and state reasons, I have

obediently submitted to your orders, and brought to you and my country the

greatest and holiest of sacrifices that a man can offer: I have sacrificed

my love to you, father! It has indeed been a bitter struggle with me, and

I do not deny that I yet suffer, but I shall conquer my pain; yet that I

can ever forget the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine, I can not promise, for

he who has truly loved never forgets. You have desired me to acquaint you

with the truth, father, now you know it. Let it now he blazoned forth

through all Berlin, through the whole country, even as far as the imperial

court of Vienna, and through the whole world. The Princess Ludovicka also

will then hear of it, and the report of this confession of my love will

reach her. But let rumor announce this one thing more to the Emperor, to

our country, and to her: that, while the Electoral Prince Frederick

William of Brandenburg could, indeed, give up a marriage with a Princess

whom he loved, out of respect and obedience to his father, he never will

take as his wife a princess whom he does not love, out of obedience and

respect; that the Electoral Prince thinks himself much too young and

inexperienced to marry, and that he most humbly implores his father to

spare him the consideration of all matrimonial projects for long years to

come, since he is firmly determined not to marry yet, and this, indeed,

not out of any refractoriness toward his father, nor out of any want of

veneration for the princesses who might be proposed to him, but merely

because his heart has received a sore wound, and because this must first

heal. But I do not reproach the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine with having

inflicted this wound. On the contrary, I speak it aloud, and may my speech

penetrate to her ears as a parting salutation: Blessed be the Princess

Ludovicka Hollandine of the Palatinate, and may God send her the happiness

she deserves so richly by her beauty, intellect, and goodness of heart!"

And, carried away by his own warmth and enthusiasm, forgetting all sense

of restraint in this moment of highest excitement, Frederick William

jumped up from his seat, took up in his hand the unbroken cup of the glass

whose foot he had smashed, and filled it to the brim with wine.

"Most gracious mother!" he cried, "look here! the base of this goblet is

broken off, and an apt symbol it is of my love. With the last wine which

this glass will ever hold let me drink a last farewell to my love, and do

you pledge her with me: To the health of the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine

of the Palatinate!"

The Electress had listened to her son with tears in her eyes, and the two

Princesses also had been deeply moved by the vehement and painful recital

of their brother's love. Now, upon his invitation, spoken with so much

ardor and enthusiasm, the Electress rose from her seat and took her glass

in her hand; the Princesses followed her example.

"To the health of the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine of the Palatinate!"

said the Electress, with full, distinct voice, and the young ladies

repeated it after her.

"Here is to her health!" cried Frederick William, with animated features

and beaming eyes. "May she be great, happy, and blessed forever!"

At one draught he emptied the chalice, then, in the fervor of the moment,

forgetting all discretion, he threw the glass backward over his shoulder

into the hall, so that it fell, with a crash, shivered to atoms, upon the

floor.

The Elector rose, his face flushed with passion, and violently rolled his

chair back from the table. "Dinner is over," he said. "May this meal be

blessed to all!"

The court officials bowed low and withdrew. Herr von Leuchtmar also made a

motion as if to go, but George William's call detained him. "Come here,"

he said imperiously; "I have still a couple of words to speak with you.

Just tell me, Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun, is it you who have taught the

Electoral Prince such singular manners, or are those the fine fashions

which he has been used to at the Orange court? Is it the custom there to

make scandal at table, and to throw glasses behind them?"

"Your Electoral Highness," replied Leuchtmar hesitatingly, "I do not

know--"

"Permit me, most gracious father," interposed the Electoral Prince, while

he most respectfully drew near to his father--"permit me to answer you on

that point myself. No, it is not the fashion to behave so strangely at the

Netherland court, and God forbid that my former tutor, Baron von

Leuchtmar, should have taught me such ill manners. It was only my heart,

which for the moment was stronger than any form or fashion, and I pray you

to forgive it, for henceforth it shall be right good and quiet, and not

even cause it to be remarked that it still beats."

The Elector only answered by a silent nod of the head, and then turned

again to the baron.

"Leuchtmar," he said, "I have now a few words to address to you, and, had

you not appeared here to-day, I should have been obliged to have had you

summoned to-morrow to tell you what I have to say. You have brought the

Electoral Prince back to us, a young gentleman, who has outgrown the

schoolroom and needs no tutor; let life then receive him into its school

and play the tutor for him. But he has outgrown you and your protection,

and your office is herewith at an end. I might wish, indeed, to retain you

still near the person of my son, and so I could have done if the Electoral

Prince had married, and we had set up a princely establishment for him, as

would have become his rank. But the Electoral Prince's distinct

declaration that he will not marry for some years, even if we should

desire it, is welcome to us in so far as we shall not have to give him a

separate household, which would have been rather hard upon us in these

times of sore embarrassment. The Electoral Prince will therefore reside at

our court, simply and quietly as we ourselves, and we can not provide him

separate attendants. Therefore, you are honorably dismissed from your

office, and it will suit us no longer to confine you to our household. You

are free to seek another master, another office, and we herewith dismiss

you forever from our service. It will not, indeed, be difficult for you to

find another service, and, since you are so well disposed to the Swedes,

you would do best to repair to The Hague, or, indeed, to Sweden itself."

"If Baron von Leuchtmar will do that," exclaimed the Electress, "he shall

not want for recommendations from me, and my uncle the Stadtholder will

surely esteem it a privilege to receive into his service a man so

pre-eminently wise, learned, and trustworthy as Baron von Leuchtmar. I

will at any time write on the subject to the Stadtholder of Holland, and

tell him what a debt of gratitude we owe you, and how little able we are

to requite you. We shall further entreat him to do what is, alas!

impossible for us--to give you a good, honorable, and lucrative position

for the whole of your life."

"I thank your highness out of a sincere soul for so great a favor," softly

replied Leuchtmar. "Meanwhile I do not intend to go into any other

service, but to content myself with quiet retirement in the bosom of my

own family."

"Do just as you choose," said the Elector, "and may good fortune attend

you everywhere. Electress, give me your arm, and let us withdraw to our

own apartments. And _he_, our son, will doubtless, first of all, have to

take a most touching and tearful farewell of Leuchtmar, and sing a

mournful ditty about the cruel father who would take away from him his

nurse--that is to say, his tutor."

"No, most gracious father," cried the Electoral Prince, laughing, "I shall

sing no mournful ditty, but cheerfully second your decision. It is quite

fine to have no longer a tutor at one's side, for it makes one feel as if

he were indeed a grown-up man, no more in need of a governor; and as to

that touching and tearful parting, that is by no means called for. Herr

von Leuchtmar and I have had some hot disputes lately on the subject of

noble politics. He was too much of a Swede for me, I too much of an

Imperialist for him, and those two things accord not well together, as you

know yourself. Meanwhile, farewell, Baron von Leuchtmar, and for all the

good you have done me accept my best thanks! And now a last embrace, and

then God go with you, Herr von Leuchtmar!"

He flung his arms around Leuchtmar's neck, and pressed him closely to his

heart. "Farewell, my dear friend," he whispered, "farewell; we shall meet

again!"

"We shall meet again, my Brutus," said Leuchtmar, quite softly, and laid

his hand upon the Prince's brow, blessing him.

Frederick William felt the tears gush from his heart to his eyes, and with

a brusque movement repelled the baron. "Farewell!" he repeated hoarsely,

then hurried with quick steps through the dining hall to the door.

"Frederick William, come with us!" cried the Elector, but the Prince did

not or would not hear his call. He hurried through the antechamber and the

long corridor, and when he had gained the solitude of his own gloomy

apartments, and not until then, rang forth from his breast the long

restrained scream of agony, streamed from his eyes the long-restrained

tears. He sank down upon the old creaking armchair and wept bitterly.

VI.--REBECCA.

"Well, Master Gabriel Nietzel, here you are," said Count Schwarzenberg,

greeting the painter, who had just entered, with a gracious nod. "And it

must be granted that you are a very punctual man, for I agreed to meet you

here at Spandow by twelve o'clock, and only hear, the clock is just now

striking the hour."

"Most gracious sir, that comes from my already having stood an hour before

the gates of your palace, waiting for the blessed moment to arrive when I

might enter. I have been gazing this whole hour up at the dialplate of the

steeple clock, and it seemed to me as if an eternity of torture would

elapse while the great hour hand slowly, oh, so slowly, made its circuit

of sixty minutes."

"You are a queer creature!" cried Count Schwarzenberg, shrugging his

shoulders. "Romantic as a young girl, full of virtuous desires, and yet

not at all loath to commit certain delicate little crimes, and to pass off

copies for originals, and that not merely pictures on canvas, but pictures

in flesh and blood as well. For what else is your Rebecca but the copy of

a respectable, decent matron, whom you thought to smuggle in as an

original, while in reality she is nothing but a copy."

"In the eyes of the law and the Stadtholder perhaps, but not in the eyes

of God and of him who loves her more than his life and his eternal

salvation, for he is ready, in order to possess her, to renounce even his

honor and his peace of conscience. Oh, your excellency, be pitiful now and

let me see my Rebecca. You have given me your word, and you will not be so

cruel as to break your promise."

"I promised you nothing further than that I would intrust certain damaged

pictures to you for repairing, and that I would show you a picture which

might perhaps be familiar to you--that was all. I shall perform my

promise, and that immediately. But first, just tell me how you are

progressing with the painting I ordered of you. Perhaps you have already

with you some sketch of it? It would be peculiarly pleasant to me, for on

the day after to-morrow I give a _fête_ in my palace at Berlin, and it

would be quite opportune if I could then lay the sketch before the dear

Electoral Prince, who is to honor the _fête_ with his presence. He is a

connoisseur, and interests himself greatly in such things. Say, then, how

comes on your sketch, and can it be completed by that time?"

"It can, noble sir! But it is not possible for me to speak about that now,

for my thoughts are wandering and my heart beats as though 'twere like to

burst. If I am to become a reasonable man once more, let me--first of

all--"

"See the picture which I promised to show you?" interposed the count.

"Well, then, you shall see it, Master Gabriel Nietzel. Remember, though,

that I only show it to you on condition that you examine it in silence. So

soon as you shall venture to speak to it, it vanishes, and you see it

never more. One has to prescribe strict regulations to you, for you are

such an odd fellow, freely entertaining bad thoughts, but shrinking from

bad deeds like an innocent child. But you shall prove to me by deeds that

you are in earnest about making amends for your crime against _me_, the

world, the laws, and the Church. Only when you have done the right thing

shall you again obtain your beloved and your child, and may depart

unhindered from this country. Mark that, Master Nietzel; and now come.

Follow me to my picture gallery."

He nodded smilingly to the painter, and led the way out of the cabinet and

through a suite of magnificent apartments. At the end of these they

entered a spacious, lofty hall, whose walls were hung with great paintings.

"This is my picture gallery," said the count on entering; "now look and be

silent!"

Gabriel Nietzel remained standing near the door, and leaned against one of

its pillars. He could proceed no farther, his knees shook so, and all the

blood in his body seemed to concentrate in head and heart. He shut his

eyes, for it seemed to him that he must expire that very moment. But

finally, by a mighty effort of will, he conquered this passionate emotion,

slowly opened his eyes, and ventured to cast a weary, wandering glance

through the hall. How wonderfully solemn this broad, handsome room seemed

to him, and how devout and prayerful was his mind! A mild, clear light

fell from the glass cupola above, which alone illuminated the hall, and

displayed the pictures on the walls to the best advantage. In the middle

of the room, beside the splendid porphyry vase standing there upon its

gilded pedestal, leaned the tall, athletic form of Count Schwarzenberg,

casting a long, dark shadow upon the shining surface of the inlaid floor.

Gabriel Nietzel saw all this, and yet he felt as if he were dreaming, and

that all would vanish so soon as he should venture to move or step

forward. The count's voice aroused him from his stupefaction.

"Now, Master Nietzel, come here, for from this point you can best survey

the pictures, and judge of their merits."

Nietzel advanced with long strides, breathless from expectation, blissful

in hope. Now he stood at the count's side, and lifted his eyes to the

pictures. With one rapid glance he swept the whole wall. Paintings,

beautiful, costly paintings, but what cared he for _them_? Glorious in the

pomp of coloring, and perfect in their truth to nature, they looked down

upon him out of their broad gilt frames, but he had no senses for _them_.

His eyes fastened again and again upon that broad, massive gold frame

which hung opposite him in the center of the wall. The painting which this

frame inclosed could not be seen, for it was hidden from view by the green

silk drapery hanging before it, and at the side of the frame was suspended

a string. Gabriel Nietzel saw nothing of the paintings, he only saw the

green curtain, only the string which kept it fast. His whole soul spoke in

the glance which he directed to them.

Count Schwarzenberg intercepted this glance and smiled.

"You are certainly thinking of Raphael's exquisite Madonna," he said, "and

because that is always seen from the midst of a green curtain, you

suppose, probably, that behind this curtain must also be concealed a

Madonna and Child. Well, we shall see some day. Stay in your place, stir

not, speak not, and perhaps a miracle will take place, and you shall

behold _una Madonna col Bambino_ of flesh and blood. But silence, man, for

you well know how it is with treasure diggers: as soon as you speak, the

treasure vanishes. Now, then, look and stand still!"

He stepped across to the wall and grasped the string. The curtain flew

back and--there she stood, the Madonna with the Child in her arms, so

beautiful, so instinct with life and warmth, as only nature has ever

painted and art imitated from nature. There she stood with that richly

tinted olive complexion, with those transparent, softly reddened cheeks,

with those full crimson lips, with those large black eyes at once full of

mildness and fire, and with that broad and noble brow full of depth of

thought and yet full of repose. And in her arms that sweet child, that

vigorous boy so full of life, loosely clad in his little white shirt, that

left bare his plump arms and firm legs. Roses were on his cheeks, dimples

in his chin, and in the great black eyes lay the deep, earnest look, full

of innocence and wisdom, that is sometimes peculiar to children.

The painter had sunk upon his knees, stretching out both arms to the

picture, and from his eyes the tears flowed in clear streams over his

cheeks. But indignantly he shook them away, for they prevented him from

seeing the Madonna, _his_ Madonna. Prayers he murmured up to her, prayers

of love and confidence, supplications for steadfastness in danger, for

courageous perseverance during separation. But he ventured not to address

them audibly to the beloved Madonna, for he knew that a mere word would

have snatched her away from him.

And she, she knew it too, and therefore she also was silent. Only with her

eyes she spoke to him, and the tears which flowed from her eyes gave

eloquent reply to his. Thus they looked at one another, at once full of

bliss and pain. The child, which until now had sat quiet upon its mother's

arm, silent and as if in deep thought, suddenly began to move. Its large

eyes were fixed upon the man who lay there on his knees, and, whether it

were the result of an involuntary movement or the instinct of love, it

spread out its arms and smiled.

"My child, my darling child!" screamed Gabriel Nietzel, springing from his

knees and rushing forward with outstretched arms. But the frame with its

living picture hung too high--his arms could not reach it, his lips could

not touch that smiling, childish mouth to press upon it a father's kiss of

blessing and seal of love. "My child!" he cried again, and now, since love

had once opened his lips, silence could no longer be maintained.

"Rebecca, my beloved," he cried.

"Gabriel, my beloved," sounded down.

"You have broken your word!" cried Count Schwarzenberg angrily, and he

vehemently drew the string, so that the green curtain hastily rustled

together. But it was in vain. A rounded, powerful female arm thrust it

back, and now it was no more a Madonna with her Child who looked forth

from the green curtain, but a glowing creature, a wife flaming with

indignation and love, with defiance and grief.

"Nobody shall hinder me from looking at you, from speaking to you!" she

cried. "I _will_ see you, Gabriel. I _will_ tell you, that I love you and

am true to you. I _will_ tell you that I would rather go barefoot through

the world, begging with you and the child, than to live longer in this

count's grand castle, amid splendor, without you. Gabriel, rescue me from

this place; do all that they require of you, only take me away from here."

"Rebecca, I will rescue you, for I can not live without you--without you

the world is a desert to me. You are my sun and the light of my life."

"Gabriel, release me, while yet there is time. They will make a Christian

of me, and I shall renounce my faith and my salvation, in order to be with

you again, but afterward I shall die of repentance."

"Rebecca, I shall release you, and I too am ready to renounce my salvation

in order to be with you. But I will not die of repentance, for I shall

have you again, and when I look upon you and the child I shall feel no

repentance."

"Gabriel, release me, give back to me my happiness, my home, my family.

For you are all that to me, and without you the world is a desert."

"Without you the world is a wilderness, Rebecca. Swear to me that you love

me!"

"I swear to you, by the God of my fathers, that I love you!"

"And would you love me if the whole world despised me?"

"What matters the world to me? Would I still love you? I would love you

more fervently yet if all the world despised you, for then you would be

like me. They despise me too, and turn away contemptuously from me, and

yet I have done nothing bad."

"Would you love me, Rebecca, even if I had committed a crime?"

"What do men call crime? Do they not say that you commit a crime in loving

me? Would they not say, too, that the priest who blessed our union was a

criminal? Be whatever you may, do what you will, I shall love you still.

Your soul is my soul, and my heart is your heart. Release me, Gabriel,

release me!"

"I will release you, Rebecca; in four days you shall be free, and we shall

journey away from here, and return to Italy, never to leave it again."

"To Italy!" rejoiced she--"to my home! Oh, my Gabriel, I shall not merely

love you, I shall worship you--you will be to me the Saviour, the Messiah,

in whom my people have hoped so long! I--"

"Now that is enough," cried Count Schwarzenberg, who had been silent

hitherto, because he felt well how much Rebecca's words forwarded his own

plans. "Now that is enough of refractoriness! Come, Gabriel Nietzel, and

you, Rebecca, step back, or I shall have your child taken away, and you

shall never see it again!"

"Go, Rebecca, go!" cried Gabriel Nietzel cheerfully. "You remain with me,

even if you go, and I shall still see and speak to you when I am far from

you. Four days only, and then we shall be reunited!"

"I am going, Gabriel! I shall spend all these four days praying for you--to

your and my God!"

"Sir Count!" cried Nietzel in cheerful tones--"Sir Count, let us now

return to your cabinet. I have something important to communicate to you."

He cast not another look up at the curtain; he had no longer any sense of

pain in her disappearance, but this was his one absorbing thought, that in

four days he would again embrace his Rebecca, and that it lay in the power

of his own hands to deserve her. With firm steps he followed the count,

who now again led him out of the hall and into his cabinet.

"Well, speak, Master Gabriel!" cried the count; "what have you to say to

me?"

Nietzel drew a paper from his breast pocket, and handed it to the count.

"See, your excellency, here is the sketch of the painting I am to make for

you."

"Truly, a precious sketch," said Schwarzenberg, examining the paper

attentively. "That looks like a Holy Supper."

"It is no Holy Supper, but a very unholy dinner."

"In the middle of the table I see sitting a man and a youth. The man wears

a crown upon his head and the youth wears a princely coronet."

"It is the Elector and the Electoral Prince," explained Gabriel Nietzel.

"Yes, indeed, the portraits are theirs. And beside them sits the

Electress, and beside her I see myself, and quite gorgeously have you

dressed me, with a princely ermined mantle about my shoulders and a

prince's diadem upon my brow. But what is that which I hold in my hand and

offer to the Electress?"

"It is a lachrymatory, your excellency."

"And yet the Electress smiles, Sir Painter."

"She takes the lachrymatory for a golden vase, which your excellency is

presenting to her as a present."

"You are witty, it seems, Master Gabriel," said the count sharply. "But

that your portraits are good must be admitted, and your sketch is

altogether charming. Only you have sketched for me there a joyous

festival, and, if I remember rightly, I ordered of you a picture which

should represent the death of Julius Cæsar, or some such murderous

occasion. But I see no dagger and no murderer in this sketch."

"Only look at that man standing behind the Electoral Prince."

"Ah, I see him now. Why, master, that is your own likeness!"

"Yes, your excellency, my own likeness. You grant me your permission,

then, to appear at the feast?"

"Why not? Paul Veronese, too, has introduced his own portrait among those

of his banqueters. What is your image there handing to the Electoral

Prince in that basket?"

"A piece of white bread, most gracious sir, nothing more."

"Ah, a piece of white bread! You have become, it seems, the young

Electoral Prince's lackey, have laid your character as artist upon the

shelf, and become body page to the gracious Prince?"

"It seems so, most gracious sir," replied Nietzel with solemn voice. "But

see here, the truth lies on this page."

And he handed the count a second sheet of paper.

"What do I see? Something seems to have disturbed the banquet."

"Yes, your excellency, very greatly disturbed it. Do you still see the man

who stood behind the Electoral Prince?"

"No, I see him nowhere."

"He has fled, your excellency. He is the murderer of the Electoral Prince,

who is borne out senseless."

"Of the Electoral Prince? Conrad the Third, you mean! For was it not the

murder of the last of the Hohenstaufens which you promised me?"

"Yes, your excellency, and I will perform my promise if the sketch pleases

you."

"It pleases me very much, and it suits me perfectly," replied the count,

whose glance remained ever directed to the two sketches. "Yes, yes," he

continued slowly, "I understand, and the design has my approval, for it is

simple and natural. You have your plan complete in your head?"

"Quite complete, your excellency."

"Then it is not necessary to talk any more about it, or to preserve the

sketches," said the count, slowly tearing the two papers into little bits.

"You are right, count, it is not necessary to preserve the sketches, since

I soon expect to carry them out on a large scale. But we have something

else to talk about, your excellency."

Schwarzenberg looked in amazement at the painter, whose voice had now lost

its reverential expression, and was very firm and determined.

"We have only to speak upon such subjects as I may choose, master," he

said haughtily.

"No, Sir Count," retorted Nietzel decidedly; "but we have to speak about

what follows the completion of my painting. We must speak of _that_, even

should it not please your excellency. On Sunday your banquet takes place;

on that day I should like to set off for Italy with my wife and child,

and leave Germany forever."

"Do so, Master Nietzel, I strongly advise you to do so."

"Will your excellency condescend to assist me thereto?"

"Joyfully, from the bottom of my heart, my dear Nietzel. You would travel

to Italy. First of all you want funds for your journey, I suppose. Here,

Master Nietzel, here I transmit to you a pocketbook containing twelve

hundred dollars--your pension, which I pay you in advance for two years."

"I thank your excellency," said Gabriel, taking the pocketbook. "The

principal thing, though, is, how am I to get at my wife and child? Am I to

come here to fetch them away?"

"Not so, Master Nietzel. I shall send Rebecca and the child to you at your

lodgings in Berlin."

"Before or after the banquet?"

"After the banquet, of course."

"But if you do not do so, your excellency. If you should forget your

promise to poor Gabriel Nietzel?"

"Ah! you mistrust me, do you, Mr. Gabriel Nietzel?"

"Do you not mistrust me, too, Sir Count? Have you not taken my Rebecca and

my child as pledges for my keeping my word? Have you not deprived me of

what is most precious to me in this world, not to be restored until I have

fulfilled my oath to you? But what pledge have I that you will keep your

word, and what means have I for forcing you to fulfill your oath to me?"

"You have my word as security--the word of a nobleman, who has never yet

forfeited his pledge," said Count Schwarzenberg solemnly. "I swear to you

that on the day of the banquet your Rebecca and your child shall be at

your lodgings in Berlin, and that you will find them there on your return

from the banquet. I swear this by the Holy Virgin Mary and by Jesus Christ

the only-begotten Son, and in affirmation of my solemn oath I lay my right

hand here upon this crucifix."

The count strode across to his escritoire, and laid his hand upon the

crucifix of alabaster and gold, which stood upon it. "I swear and vow," he

cried, "that next Sunday I shall send to Gabriel Nietzel's lodging his

Rebecca and her child, and that he shall find them there when he returns

from the banquet. Are you content now, Master Gabriel Nietzel?"

"I am content, Sir Count. Farewell! And God grant that we may never meet

again on earth!"

He greeted the count with a passing inclination of his head, and left the

apartment without waiting for his dismissal.

VII.--THE OFFER.

"And now," murmured Gabriel Nietzel to himself, as he stepped out upon the

street--"now for work, without hesitancy and without delay, for there is

no other way of escaping from that cruel tiger who has me in his clutches.

He is athirst for blood, and I must sacrifice to him the blood of another

man in order to save that of my wife and child! But, woe to him, woe, if

he does not keep his word, if he acts the part of traitor toward me! But I

will not think of that, I dare not think of it, for I have need of all my

presence of mind in order to prepare everything. First, I must speak to

the Electoral Prince; that is the most important thing."

He went back to Berlin, and repaired forthwith to the palace. The

Electoral Prince was at home, and the lackey who had announced the court

painter Gabriel Nietzel now reverentially opened for him the door of the

princely apartment.

"Well, here you are, my dear Gabriel," cried the Electoral Prince affably.

"Welcome, to receive my thanks for the zeal and dispatch with which you

attended to the removal of my effects. Truly you merit praise, for I am

told that you arrived in Berlin before me. We had contrary winds, it is

true, and had to lie at anchor before Cuxhaven for fourteen days. Well,

say, master, how are you pleased with Berlin?"

"Very well, your highness," replied Nietzel gloomily, looking into the

pale, sad countenance of the Electoral Prince with a glance full of

strange meaning.

"Why do you look so inquiringly at me, master?" asked the Prince restively.

"Pardon me, most gracious sir, I will not do so again," said Gabriel,

casting down his eyes. "I have something to say to your highness, and I

would fain gather the needed courage therefore from your countenance."

"Do so then, master, look at me and speak."

"Step into the middle of the room, gracious sir, and permit me to come

close to you; then I will speak, for I shall know then that no one can

overhear us."

The Electoral Prince did as Gabriel requested. The latter stepped close up

to his side. "Most gracious sir," said he, "have you confidence in me?"

"Yes, Gabriel Nietzel, I have confidence in you."

"Then hear what I have to tell you. Ask no questions, require no

intelligence and explanations. Hear my warning, and act accordingly. Count

Schwarzenberg plots against your life!"

"Do you believe that?" said the Electoral Prince, smiling.

"He has invited you to a feast, which is to take place on Sunday. At that

feast you are to be poisoned."

The Electoral Prince started, and a transient flush gleamed upon his

cheeks. "Whence know you that, Gabriel Nietzel?"

"I beseech you ask me no questions, but believe me. Will your highness do

so?--dare I speak further?"

"Well, I will believe you. Speak further, Master Gabriel."

"I told you thus much, that you were to be poisoned at Count Adam von

Schwarzenberg's banquet. The count's valet has been bribed by him; he will

have the honor of waiting upon you at the feast, and he will therefore

present to you all you eat or drink, even down to the bread. Do not accept

them from him, your highness, especially the bread."

"I shall at least eat nothing, Gabriel Nietzel."

"When he sees that, he will offer you some fruit or viand which will prove

hurtful to you. The count's valet must not stand behind your seat, that is

the principal thing; another must take his place, another, on whose

fidelity you may rely."

"Who is that other? Where is the man to be found in these parts on whose

fidelity I may rely?"

"You may rely upon me, Prince. I will stand behind your chair, I will wait

upon you at Count Schwarzenberg's feast."

"You, Gabriel Nietzel, you?" asked Frederick William, and his eyes were

fixed upon the painter with a long glance of inquiry. Gabriel Nietzel

sustained this glance, and succeeded in forcing a smile upon his lips.

"I will be your valet at the feast. I will stand behind your chair and

wait upon you."

"Impossible, Gabriel. How could we manage that without insulting the

count?"

"Very simply, your highness. Have the kindness to say that you brought me

with you, in order that I might make for you a painting of the banquet,

and to that end sketch the outlines, and that, to furnish a pretext for my

presence, you have allowed me to appear as your page."

"It is true, that will suit! You have weighed all excellently, Gabriel

Nietzel, and your plan is good."

"And you accept it, gracious sir, do you not, you accept it?"

Frederick William was silent, and his large, deep-blue eyes were again

fixed testingly and questioningly upon the painter's countenance. After a

long pause he slowly laid his hand upon Gabriel's shoulder, and his looks

brightened.

"Gabriel Nietzel," he said solemnly, "I will have confidence in you, I

will assume that God sends you to me to save me; I will _not_ assume that

Count Schwarzenberg sends you to me to ruin me. You shall accompany me to

the feast and stand behind my chair as page."

Gabriel Nietzel only answered by the tears, which in clear streams gushed

from his eyes. "Oh, you weep," cried the Electoral Prince. "Now I see well

that you mean honestly, and that I can trust you, for your tears speak for

you."

Just then the lackey opened the door of the antechamber and announced,

"The commandant of Küstrin, Colonel von Burgsdorf, wishes to pay his

respects!"

"Let him wait an instant; I will summon him directly."

"Most gracious sir," murmured Nietzel, when the door had again closed,

"dismiss me in the colonel's presence, and immediately, that the spies may

not have it to say that there has been to-day a meeting, of Count

Schwarzenberg's enemies here."

"Are there spies here too, Gabriel?"

"Everywhere, sir, each of your servants is bribed, and you must suspect

them. Dismiss me, sir, dismiss me."

The Electoral Prince went to the door and opened it.

"Colonel von Burgsdorf, come in!"

"Here I am, most gracious sir, here I am!" cried Burgsdorf's rough voice,

and with clashing sword and glittering corselet Conrad von Burgsdorf

entered the room. The Electoral Prince nodded to him, and then turned to

the painter, who humbly and with lowered head had crept away toward the

door. "Master Nietzel," he said, with a condescending wave of the hand,

"go now, and be careful to carry out my instructions. I will request my

mother to do me the kindness to sit to you every day for her portrait,

which you are to paint for me. Make all your preparations, and come early

to-morrow morning with the canvas stretched."

"Your highness's commands shall be punctually executed," said Gabriel

Nietzel, and, after reverentially bowing, he left the room.

"And now for you, my dear Burgsdorf!" cried the Electoral Prince,

advancing a few paces to meet the colonel, and kindly offering him his

hand. "You are heartily welcome, and let me hope that I, too, am welcome

to you and your friends."

"Your highness, you are more than welcome to us--you have been longed for

by us, and we thank God from the depths of our souls that he has finally

given you back to us. All had already abandoned hope of your return to us.

All really believed that you would forsake us in our wretchedness and

want, and would never more return to the unhappy Mark of Brandenburg. But

here you are at last, my dearest young sir, and blessed be your coming and

your staying."

"I thank you, colonel, thank you with my whole heart for your good

wishes," said Frederick William kindly; "and trust me, my dear colonel, I

know how to treasure them, and will never forget you for these. You are

one of the faithful ones, on whom our house can count in evil as in good

days, and on whom an Elector of Brandenburg would never call in vain, if

he had need of him."

"Call upon us, most gracious sir," said the colonel briskly and

joyfully--"call all your faithful ones, and you shall see they will all

come, for they are only waiting for your summons."

The Electoral Prince smilingly shook his head. "I am not the Elector of

Brandenburg, and I have not the right to summon you."

"You shall and must be Elector of Brandenburg, and that you may be so, you

must gather your faithful ones around you."

"I do not understand you," said the Electoral Prince slowly. "Whether I

will ever be Elector of Brandenburg, God only can decide, for in his hands

lies my father's life as well as my own. May the day be far distant when I

enter upon the succession--may my venerated father for long years to come

rule his land in peace and tranquillity. I long not to grasp the reins of

government, for I know very well that I am yet much too young to guide

them with wisdom and prudence."

"You will not understand me, your highness," cried the colonel

impatiently, and his red swollen face glowed with a brighter hue. "But I

must still try to make you understand, for to that very end have I been

sent hither by your friends; they have chosen me as spokesman for them

all, and therefore I must speak, if your highness will grant me leave so

to do."

"Speak, my dear colonel, speak, and may God enlighten my heart, that I may

rightly understand you! Let us sit down, colonel, and now let us hear what

is the matter."

"This is the matter, your highness, the Mark of Brandenburg is lost to

you, if you do not seize it now with swift, determined hand. You do not

believe me, sir; you shake your head incredulously and smile. Ah! I see

plainly, that you have been suffered to remain in great darkness as

regards the situation of affairs here, and you know very little of our

sufferings and our distresses. You know not that poverty and want prevail

throughout the whole land; that the peasant, the burgher, the nobleman,

all classes of the people, in short, are equally oppressed; that trade and

commerce lie prostrate; and the aim of each one is only how he may prolong

a wretched existence from day to day."

"Nevertheless, my dear colonel, I know that. I saw enough solitary, ruined

villages, waste and empty towns, uncultivated and ravaged fields on my

journey hither to prove to me what the poor inhabitants of the Mark have

had to suffer in these evil days of war."

"Have had to suffer, says your highness?" cried Burgsdorf impatiently;

"they still suffer continuously, and their suffering will be without

cessation or end if your highness does not take pity upon the poor people,

upon us all."

"I?" asked Frederick William, astonished. "What then can I do?"

"You can do everything, my Prince, everything, and in the name of your

future country, in the name of your subjects, I beseech you to do so. The

Mark Brandenburg stands upon the brink of a precipice. Save it, Electoral

Prince. The religion, policy, and independence of Brandenburg are in

danger; take your sword in hand and save her. Speak three words, three

little insignificant words, and all the noblemen in the Mark will rally

exultingly about you, and the people will flock to you in crowds, and make

you so mighty and so strong that you need only to will and your will shall

be executed."

"What three words are those, Sir Colonel von Burgsdorf?"

"Those three words, your highness, which the people shouted up at the

palace window yesterday, when you got home. The three words, 'Down with

him!'"

"Down with _him_," repeated the Electoral Prince. "And who is this _him_?"

"It is Count Schwarzenberg, your highness--it is the minister who rules

here in the Mark as if it were his own property, and as if he were not

your father's Stadtholder, but the reigning Prince, who had obtained the

Mark as a fief from the Emperor of Germany, to whom alone he were

responsible. Look about you, Frederick William, look at these poor,

wretched apartments, in which you live--look at the decay of the princely

house, the embarrassments with which your father has to contend, and the

privations which your mother and sisters have to undergo. And then,

Prince, then look across at Broad Street, at Count Schwarzenberg's

palace. There all is glory and splendor, there are to be seen lackeys in

golden liveries, costly equipages, handsomely furnished halls. They

practice wanton luxury, they live amid pomp and pleasure, arrange

magnificent hunts and splendid entertainments, while the people cry out

for hunger. They make merry in Count Schwarzenberg's palace, and while the

burgher, whose last cent he has seized for the payment of taxes and

imposts, creeps about in rags, _he_ struts by in velvet clothes, decked

out with gold and precious stones, and laughingly boasts that half the

Mark of Brandenburg might be bought at the price of one of his court

suits. Most gracious Prince, yesterday the steward of your father, with

the Electoral consent, brought out the velvet caps which had been kept in

the Electoral wardrobe, took off the genuine silver lace with which they

were trimmed, and sold it to the Jews, in order to pay the servants their

month's wages,[24] and the count's servants yesterday received new

liveries, so thickly set with gold lace that the scarlet cloth was hardly

distinguishable underneath. The Stadtholder in the Mark revels in

superfluity, while the Elector in the Mark almost suffers want, and

esteems himself happy if he can give one piece of land after another to

his minister as security for the payment of debt. Oh, it is enough to

drive one to despair, and make him tear his hair for rage and grief, when

he sees the state of things here, and must perceive that the Elector is

nothing and the Stadtholder everything. To his adherents he gives offices

and dignities, and those whom he knows to be attached to the interests of

the Electoral family he removes from court, and replaces by his favorites

and servants. Upon the Colonels von Kracht and von Rochow he has bestowed

good positions, making them commandants of Berlin and Spandow, with double

salaries, but me, whom he knows to be the faithful servant of the

Electoral family, he has banished from court and sent to Küstrin with only

half as high a salary as the other two have. From the Electoral privy

council he has also removed all those gentlemen who were bold enough to

lift up their voices against him, and has introduced such men as say yes

to everything that he desires and asks. No longer does an honest, upright

word reach the Electoral ear, and while the whole people lament and cry

out against Schwarzenberg, fearing him as they do the devil himself, our

Elector fancies that his Stadtholder is as much beloved by the people of

the Mark Brandenburg as by the Emperor at Vienna. But it is just so;

Catholics and Imperialists will Schwarzenberg make us; ever he presses us

further and further from our comrades in the faith, the Swedes and Dutch;

ever he draws us closer to the Catholics; and if he could succeed in

making the Elector Catholic, removing all Evangelists and Reformers from

court, and putting Catholics in their places, then he would rejoice and

obtain a high reward from the Emperor and Pope."

"And you believe, Burgsdorf, that he will do such a thing, and esteem such

a thing possible?" asked the Electoral Prince, with a sly smile.

"I believe that he will, and we all believe so. And with the Stadtholder

to will is to do, for he carries through all that he undertakes. But we

will not suffer it, Prince, we will not be turned into Imperialists and

Catholics. We will hold to our Elector and our religion; we will not

suffer and submit to our Elector's being any longer in dependence upon

Emperor and empire, and nothing at all but a powerless tool in

Schwarzenberg's hands. We want a free Elector, who has courage and power

to defy the Emperor himself, and league himself with the Swedes against

him. For the Swedes are our rightful allies, not merely because the mother

of the little Queen Christina is sister to our Elector, but also because

we are neighbors, and of one religion and one faith. Oh, my gracious young

sir, do not allow Schwarzenberg to make us Catholics and Imperialists!

Free your country, your subjects, and yourself from this man, who weighs

upon us like a scourge from God!"

"But, Burgsdorf, just consider what you say there. I, who have but just

returned from a three years' absence, I, who am almost a stranger to these

combinations and circumstances, _I_ am to free you from this most mighty

and influential man, the Stadtholder in the Mark! I should like to know

how to go about it."

"Gracious sir, I will tell you," replied Burgsdorf, with smothered voice

and coming close up to the Prince. "Only say that you will place yourself

at our head; give me only a couple of words in your own handwriting to

give assurance to your friends and adherents that you will at their head

battle for your good rights and for the faith and law of the land. Do

this, and then just wait eight days."

"And what will happen after these eight days?"

"Then will happen that you shall see an army assembled about you, my

Prince, in eight days. We have all been long making our preparations in

secret, and putting everything in position, to be able to break forth as

soon as you should appear and place yourself at our head. Every nobleman

belonging to our party has procured arms and ammunition for the equipment

of his people, and a brave, well-appointed host will be ready to execute

your orders. You will take Schwarzenberg prisoner in his proud palace; you

will be able by persistency to drive the Elector to dismiss the hated

minister and his hated son from their offices and dignities, and to banish

them forever from the country. You will be able to force the Elector to

nominate you Schwarzenberg's successor, and then, having the power in your

own hands, it only depends upon yourself to break, with the Emperor, to

recognize the peace of Prague no longer, but to renew the alliance with

the Swedes, and united with them to battle against the encroachments of

the Emperor, and in behalf of religion!"

"Just see, colonel, you have your plan already cut and dried!" cried the

Prince. "If I should accede to it I would have nothing further to do than

to execute what you have previously determined and arranged, and I should

be nothing more than a tool in your hands. Now, I must confess to you that

such a part would not at all suit me, even if I were ready to fall in with

your plans. But I am not ready to do so, and am thoroughly indisposed to

accept your proposition."

"You are not inclined to do so?" asked the colonel, shocked. "Not even,"

he continued more softly, "when I tell you that the Electress knows our

plans and consents to them?"

"Not even then, colonel. However much I love my mother, yet in this matter

I can not suffer myself to be guided by her wishes. No, Colonel von

Burgsdorf, I am not minded to go into your plans; for have you well

considered what you require of me? You ask me to head a revolution, to

give you a deed of rebellion, and to call upon the noblemen of the country

to revolt against their rightful Sovereign. You ask me, as a rebel and

agitator, and yet at the same time only as your tool, to do force and

violence to my lord and father, and to force him to dismiss his minister,

to alter his system, and to make enemies of his friends and friends of his

enemies. Truly, you offer me a great advantage in prospective, and are

good enough to propose that I step into Count Schwarzenberg's place and

rule the country in the Elector's name, as he has done. But I am not blind

to my own shortcomings, and do not overestimate myself. I know very well

that I am as yet but an inexperienced young man, who has still a great

deal to learn, and is by no means in a position to take the place of so

distinguished and adroit a statesman as Count Schwarzenberg. I must yet go

to school to him, and learn from him statecraft and policy."

"Will you learn from him, gracious sir?" cried Burgsdorf passionately,

"would you go to school to him, to that Catholic, that Imperialist?"

"Tell me a better schoolmaster for my father's son?" asked the Electoral

Prince softly. "My father has bestowed full confidence upon him for these

twenty years past, he has adhered firmly and faithfully to him in evil as

well as in prosperous days, and therefore I conclude that the count is

worthy of this unshaken confidence, and must well deserve his master's

love. It would, therefore, be very disrespectful behavior on my part

toward my father, and put me in the light of exalting myself against him

in unchildlike disobedience, if I should make the attempt to remove Count

Schwarzenberg from his side by force. The Elector alone is reigning

Sovereign within his own dominions, and what he concludes must be good,

and it does not become us to censure or presume to know better."

"Your grace, then, will be nothing but an obedient and submissive son?"

asked Burgsdorf in a cutting tone.

"Nothing further, Burgsdorf," replied Frederick William quietly. "May my

father yet live to rule long years in peace; I am still young, I am

learning and waiting."

"You are learning and waiting," cried Burgsdorf, beside himself, "and

meanwhile your land is going wholly to ruin; the people are hungry and in

despair; the noblemen are reduced to beggary or have, in their

desperation, gone over to Schwarzenberg--that is to say, to the

Emperor--who pays a rich annuity to each one who adheres faithfully to

him. And when your grace has waited and learned enough, then will come the

day when Count Schwarzenberg will hunt you from your heritage, even as he

has hunted the Margrave of Jägerndorf; then will the Emperor give the Mark

Brandenburg away, as he has done with Jägerndorf, and his favorite,

Schwarzenberg, is here ready to receive the welcome donation. He has

already ruled the Mark Brandenburg twenty years in the Emperor's name, why

should he not rule the Mark as its independent Sovereign? Oh, gracious

sir, it makes me raving mad just to think of it, and I can not believe

that you are in earnest, that you actually thrust from you myself and

those loyal to you, and will not enter into our plans. My dear Prince, I

have known you all your life. I have carried you in my arms as a little

boy; I have borne you under my cloak when you went with your mother to

Küstrin; I have staked upon you all the hopes of my life; and it would be

a bitter grief to me to be obliged to think that you will have nothing to

do with me and all your friends."

"And think you, man," asked the Electoral Prince, "that it would be no

grief to my father if I should step forward as his adversary? Think you

that it would make for him a good name in history should the son present

himself as his father's enemy? No, Burgsdorf; I repeat it to you, I am

learning and waiting."

"And I? I have waited twenty years, to learn in this hour that all my

waiting has been in vain. The Mark is lost, and you, Electoral Prince,

with it. I shall tell your mother, I shall tell your friends, that you are

lost to us. Farewell, sir, and, if you will, go to Count Schwarzenberg and

tell him that I am a traitor and conspirator. I shall go back to Küstrin,

and if I were not ashamed, I could weep over myself and you. No, I am not

ashamed; look, sir, at least you have constrained me."

And the tears gushed from his eyes and fell down upon his grizzly, gray

beard. He clapped his hands before his face and sobbed aloud. The

Electoral Prince turned pale. He fixed a glance full of confidence and

love upon the colonel, and had already opened his lips for an answer,

which he would probably have afterward repented, when Burgsdorf suddenly

drew his hands from before his face and angrily shook his head.

"I am a fool!" he said furiously, "and it would serve me right, old baby

that I am, if you should laugh at me. Farewell!"

He made a formal military salute, turned abruptly and crossed the

apartment to the door. Now, when his hand was already upon the latch, the

Electoral Prince made a few steps forward. Colonel Burgsdorf turned about.

"Did you call me, sir?"

"No, colonel, farewell!"

The door closed, and Frederick William was alone. His large blue eyes were

directed toward heaven with a look of inexpressible grief.

"I have in this hour offered up a greater sacrifice than Abraham, when he

sacrificed his son to his God," he whispered. "Has God accepted my

sacrifice, will he in his mercy some day reward me for it?"

VIII.--THE BANQUET.

The city of Berlin was to-day in a state of unusual stir and excitement.

Everybody made haste to finish his noon-day meal, and nobody thought of

complaining especially that this repast was so sparingly provided and

served in such small portions, and that the dread specter of hunger was

ever stalking nearer to the inhabitants of the unhappy, much-plagued town.

They were to-day looking forward to a spectacle--one, moreover, for which

no money was to be paid, which could be had gratis, just by being upon the

street in right time and struggling to obtain a good position on the

cathedral square, before the palace, or much better, before Count

Schwarzenberg's palace. For to-day the count gave a great banquet in his

palace on Broad Street, and it was well worth the trouble of contending

for a place before the palace, and not even being frightened by a few

cuffs and blows. The whole fashionable world of Berlin, all the nobility

of the regions round about, were invited to this feast, and the whole

court was to appear there. And it was so rarely that the Electoral family

was ever to be seen by the town. They had passed almost a year in the

Mark, but in such quiet and retirement did they live that their presence

would hardly have been recognized if on Sunday in the cathedral church,

which stood in the center of the square between the palace and Broad

Street, their lofty personages had not been discernible behind the glass

panes of the Electoral gallery. But to-day they were not to be seen in the

seriousness of devotion, with their solemn, church-going faces, but in the

pomp and splendor of their exalted station, in the glitter of their

earthly greatness. And, above all things, they were to see the Electoral

Prince, the Prince who had but just returned home, the hope of the

downtrodden land, the future of the Mark Brandenburg!

How the good people hurried with joyful, eager faces along toward Broad

Street, with what hasty movements did they rush across the Spree Bridge! A

black, surging throng of men stood before the castle on the cathedral

square, a dense, motionless mass before Count Schwarzenberg's palace. Only

one passage was left free, broad enough to allow the carriage to drive

across the castle square to the palace, and on both sides of this stood

the halberdiers of the Stadtholder's bodyguard, threateningly presenting

their halberds toward those who ventured to step forward. The Stadtholder

in the Mark had his own bodyguard--fine, athletic fellows, of proud

bearing, in splendid uniforms, trimmed everywhere with genuine gold and

silver lace, while, as everybody knew, the members of the Electoral

bodyguard wore nothing but imitation lace upon their uniforms. The

Elector's bodyguard, indeed, were paid and clothed by citizens, and they,

on account of their want and distress, had refused to pay the last

bodyguard tax, while the Stadtholder's bodyguard consisted of members of

his household and was paid and clothed by himself. And Count Schwarzenberg

was very rich, and the citizens were very poor, but still the count had

never once practiced mildness and mercy, and relieved the poor cities of

their taxes and imposts, or given of his wealth to their poverty.

To-day, however, he gave a _fête_, a splendid _fête_, and however much at

other times they dreaded and hated him, his _fête_ they could still look

upon, and with longing eyes behold all its magnificence. It was, indeed,

glorious to look upon, and they saw, moreover, how much the Stadtholder

honored and esteemed the Elector, for never before had he displayed such

splendor, when he merely invited the high nobility. Above the grand door

of entrance was stretched a canopy of crimson cloth, edged with gold, the

golden pillars of the canopy reaching out even into the street. The four

stone steps leading from the front door were covered with fine carpeting,

which also stretched away to the street, to the spot where the guests were

to alight from their carriages. On both sides of the carpet stood serried

ranks of the Stadtholder's lackeys in their flashy gold-trimmed liveries.

They were headed by the count's two stewards, with golden wands in their

hands, broad gold bands about their shoulders, and monstrous

three-cornered hats upon their heads. It was very fine to look upon, and

not merely the merry urchins, who were swinging upon the iron railings of

the count's park, opposite the palace on the side of the cathedral square,

enjoyed the spectacle, but the respectable burgher, with his well-dressed

wife upon his arm, found his pleasure in it as well. The front doors were

wide open, and they could look into the gorgeous columned hall, decorated

with garlands and vases of fresh flowers. Yes, it was plainly to be seen

that the Stadtholder felt himself greatly honored by the high company he

was to receive to-day, and this even reconciled the good people a little

to the proud, imperious Count Schwarzenberg.

And now the distinguished guests came riding up. There were the noblemen

from the country round about, in their antiquated, rumbling vehicles,

drawn by beautiful, handsomely harnessed horses. There were the Quitzows,

the Götzes and Krockows, the Bülows and Arnims, and as often as a carriage

arrived the musicians, stationed on both sides of the palace, blew a

flourishing peal of trumpets, and the noblemen bowed right and left,

greeting, although no one had greeted them except Count Schwarzenberg's

chamberlain, von Lehndorf, who received the guests upon the threshold of

the house. But now resounded a loud shouting and huzzaing, rolling nearer

and ever nearer, like a monstrous wave, and an unusual, joyful movement

pervaded the densely packed mass of men. "They come! they come!" sounded

from mouth to mouth, and small people raised themselves on tiptoe, and

tall ones turned their heads toward the corner of the cathedral square.

Already they saw the foot runner, with his plumed hat and golden staff, as

he came bounding on, then the two foreriders in their bright blue

liveries, with low, round caps upon their heads, and then the electoral

equipage, the great gilded coach of state, drawn by four black horses.

"Who is sitting in the coach of state? Is the Electoral Prince in it? Does

he come in the same carriage with his father?"

The people grew dumb from impatience and expectancy, in the midst of their

cries of joy; they wanted to see! All eyes shone with curiosity as the

equipage rolled on. Over in the park, behind the railing, stood the

drummers, and they began to beat a roll, which the boys riding on the

railing seconded with genuine rapture. The trumpeters blew a flourish,

and now Count Schwarzenberg himself issued from the broad palace door,

followed by his son, the young Count John Adolphus. Ah! how glorious to

behold was the Stadtholder in the Mark in his official costume as Grand

Master of the Order of St. John, his breast quite covered with the stars

of the order, whose gems glittered and sparkled so wondrously; and how

handsome looked the young count, in his white suit of silver brocade, with

puffs of purple velvet, his short, ermine-edged mantle of purple velvet,

confined at the shoulders by clasps. The two counts made haste down the

steps to the equipage. The Stadtholder in his amiable impatience opened

the carriage door himself, and offered the Elector George William both his

hands to assist him in alighting. And now, laboriously, gasping, with

flushed face, and a forced smile upon his lips, the Elector dismounted

from his carriage. Leaning upon his favorite's arm, slowly and clumsily he

moved forward to the house, his stout, lofty form bent, his gait heavy,

and his blue eyes, which were only once turned to the gaping multitude,

sad--oh, so sad! The people looked with pity and compassion upon the poor,

peevish gentleman, who, in spite of the great Prince's star upon his

breast and the Electoral hat with its waving plumes, was not by far so

splendid to behold as the proud, stately Count Adam, who strode along at

his side.

While the Stadtholder was conducting the Elector into the palace, the

Electress alighted from the carriage, the two young Princesses following

her. A loud cry of joy and admiration rang out, and called a smile to the

lips of the Electress, a deep blush to the cheeks of the Princesses. The

Electress's robe, with its long train of gold brocade, was wondrous to

behold, and above it the blue velvet mantle with black ermine trimmings;

and how beautifully the diadem of diamonds and sapphires gleamed and

sparkled on the brown hair of the Princess! Again the Stadtholder came out

of the palace with hasty steps, flew to the Electress, and offered her

his arm, to lead her into the palace. Nor need the two Princesses walk

alone behind; they, too, have their knight--young Count Schwarzenberg, who

had received the Electress. He offered his arm to the Princess Charlotte

Louise, which she accepted with a lovely smile and a becoming blush. Ah!

what a handsome couple that was, and how remarkably their dress

corresponded, for the Princess was also dressed in silver brocade, and

from her shoulders fell a mantle of purple velvet edged with ermine. The

little Princess Sophie Hedwig stepped behind her. But who was this young

man, who suddenly stepped forward, made his way through the throng, and

offered her his arm? Nobody had seen him or observed him, and he had come

on foot, accompanied by a single page. Who was this handsome young man, in

light-blue velvet suit, who with the young Princess on his arm mounted the

steps with her, laughing merrily.

"It is he! It is the Electoral Prince! It is Frederick William! Cheers for

our Electoral Prince! Hurrah for Frederick William! Welcome, welcome home!

Long live our Electoral Prince!"

Within the hall, at the window, stood the Elector, and these shouts

emanating from thousands of throats darkened his countenance. The people

had kept silence when their Sovereign showed himself to them, and now they

exulted on seeing his son!

Without, at the head of the steps, stood the Electoral Prince, and the

shouting of so many thousand voices summoned a glad smile to his face. How

handsome he was, and what a happiness it was to look at him! How like a

lion's mane fell his thick, fair brown hair on both sides of his narrow

oval face, how like brilliant stars sparkled his large, dark-blue eyes,

and what bold thoughts were written upon his broad, clear brow! And how

stately and impressive was his figure, too--how slender, and yet how firm

and athletic! Yes, those broad shoulders were well fitted to bear the

burden of government, and behind that breast beat surely a strong, great

heart!

"Long live the Electoral Prince! Three cheers! Long live Frederick

William!"

He bowed once more, nodding and bestowing kind greetings upon those on

both sides, then entered the palace, followed by his page in black velvet

suit.

Who is that page? Nobody observes him, nobody has looked at him. Who

troubles himself about the servant when he looks at the master?--who asks

why the page's face is so pale, why his glance so feverish and restless?

Very few know the court painter Gabriel Nietzel, and those who do know him

will surely never imagine that it is he who to-day acts as page to the

Electoral Prince Frederick William. He mingles with the host of

gold-bedizened servants and lackeys in the entrance hall, and follows them

into the banqueting hall. The doors of the house are closed; for the

gaping crowd without the festival is ended, for the high-born guests

within it is but just begun. The two wings of the doors leading into the

banqueting hall are thrown open by the halberdiers, the musicians in the

gilded balcony to the rear blow a loud, dashing flourish, and the Elector

enters the hall, followed by the Electress, who leans upon the arm of

Count Schwarzenberg. On both sides of the hall stand the lords and ladies

of the nobility, who bow down to the ground, nothing being visible but the

bowed necks of men, the courtesying forms of women--all is reverence,

solemnity, and silence. In the middle of the long table, just before that

immense, solid mirror of Venetian crystal, are the places of the Electoral

pair, as may be seen by those throne-like armchairs, on whose tall,

straight backs is carved a golden crown--as may be seen by the glittering

gold plate of both covers.

How gorgeously is the long table laid, nothing to be seen but gold and

silver plate! In the center is a huge piece of chased silver, representing

Cupids and genii, who in golden shells, cornucopias, and vases offer the

rarest fruits, the most delicious confections! Before each lady's plate,

in wondrously cut goblets, is a magnificent bouquet of flowers; before

each gentleman's, a silver bowl. A gold-bedizened lackey is behind each

chair; two stand behind the chairs of each of their Electoral Highnesses.

"Why stands that page behind the Electoral Prince's chair?" asks the

Stadtholder, loud enough to be heard by the Prince, who is near him.

Frederick William breaks off in the midst of his conversation with the

young Count John Adolphus, and turns smilingly to the Stadtholder.

"Pardon, your grace," says he kindly. "I wished to preserve a memento of

this handsome entertainment, the first entertainment by which my return

home has been solemnized, and with my father's permission I have brought

with me the court painter Gabriel Nietzel, in order that he may look upon

the feast and make a sketch of the scene. Since, of course, he could have

no place at the table, he has assumed a page's garb, that he may have the

privilege of standing behind my chair. I fancy that the vain man would

willingly immortalize himself in that picturesque costume. But as he has

put on a page's clothes, he will also perform a page's part, and I have

therefore at his request consented that he shall wait upon me to-day and

hand me all my food. Does your grace also grant him this upon my bequest?"

"Oh, most gracious Prince, you need never make requests; you have only to

command. Away there, you fellows! away from the Electoral Prince's chair,

vacate your places for the page! Mr. Court Painter Nietzel, take good care

not to be negligent in your duties, to-day be nothing but the Electoral

Prince's page so long as we are at table, afterward you can again be the

court painter!"

The page bowed in silence, and Count Schwarzenberg paid no further

attention to him, but followed the Electoral pair, who were making the

circuit of the hall, here and there addressing a friendly word to some

member of the nobility, sweeping past before an answer could be stammered

forth. The circuit was completed; a thrice repeated nourish of trumpets

resounded; the Chamberlain von Lehndorf rushed to the window, and with a

white handkerchief made a signal down to the pleasure garden. Cannon

thundered forth salutes, informing the town that the Elector had just sat

down to table, that the feast at the house of the Stadtholder in the Mark

had begun.

A choice, a sumptuous banquet! Delicious viands, splendid wines! Gradually

they forgot a little the requirements of rigid etiquette and pompous

silence; gradually tongues were loosened, and there was talking and

laughing; even the Elector lost his hard, peevish nature, his face glowed

with a brighter hue, his form became more elastic, and cheerful words

sounded from his lips.

A choice, a sumptuous banquet! The Electress laughed, and had totally

forgotten that Count Adam Schwarzenberg, sitting at her side, was her

detested enemy. She chatted as cozily and earnestly with him as if he were

one of her most devoted friends and servants. Opposite her sat her two

daughters, and Princess Charlotte Louise inclined with a pleasant smile

toward Count John Adolphus, who sat beside her, and had just been painting

to her with glowing eloquence the glories of the imperial city, gorgeous

Vienna.

Now his bold glance darted across at the Electoral pair; they were busy

talking and eating; nobody was noticing him.

"Princess, dear, adored Princess, do you hear me when I speak so softly?"

"I hear you, Sir Count."

"Sir Count!" repeated he, sighing. "You retract your word, then? You

thrust me again into the ranks of your court cavaliers and counts? You

have no longer a word of welcome for the poor, pitiable man who worships

you, who is blessed if he can only look at you, only hear the tones of

your sweet voice, and who has been longing for this with desire and

painful rapture for three long months? Not one word of welcome for me?"

"I welcome you--welcome you with my whole heart! Have you only been away

three months? Were they not three years?"

"Seems it so to you, my adored mistress? I believe it was three hundred

years--three eternities. And yet these eternities have not altered your

angelic face. It is still ever radiant in its heavenly, rosy beauty, and

not a feature betrays that you have suffered on my account, that you have

longed for me."

"Then my face belies me, for I have longed for you; therefore the months

lengthened into years, and it seems to me as if I have become a very old,

sedate person since I last saw you."

"Oh, dearest, how I long for one moment of solitary communing with you,

when I can kneel at your feet, cover your hands with kisses, and tell you

how inexpressibly I love you! Be not cruel, Louise, in this hour of

reunion. Tell me that you, too, long for such a moment--that you will

grant it to me."

"And if I should say so, how would it help us? You know well that I am

watched day and night. My mother never lets me leave her side, and our

governess watches over me still, just as if I were a child that could not

walk a step without an attendant, nor write a line without her reading it."

"Ah, you dear, sweet angel! if you only loved me half as ardently as I

love you, your pretty, prudent little head would already have devised some

means whereby poor John Adolphus would not have to plead in vain for one

blissful moment passed alone with you."

"I love you, John Adolphus, but oh, I dare not love you! The wrath of my

mother would be boundless if she even suspected it."

"She need not suspect it beforehand, nor hear anything about it before we

are certain of your father's gracious consent."

"You esteem that possible? You believe that my father will ever consent

for me--"

"For you to condescend to become my wife? I hope so--hope that the

Emperor's favor exalts me a little, so that the chasm which separates us

is not too great for you to cross, for you to carry in your bosom a strong

heart and a true love. About all these things I must speak with you,

sweetest Princess, for here we must be cautious. Only see with what

earnest looks the Electress is already regarding us! Be pitiful, Louise;

tell me that you will consent to meet me alone for one quarter of an hour."

"Pass by the cathedral, then, to-morrow about ten o'clock of the forenoon.

Old Trude will be there and have a message for you, and--"

"Long live our most gracious Sovereign! Long live George William!" cried

Count Schwarzenberg, rising from his seat and holding the golden bumper

aloft in his right hand.

All the guests started from their seats, and joined in the shouts: "Long

live our most gracious Sovereign! Long live George William!" And the

golden goblets clashed against one another, and the trumpets and

kettledrums chimed in with crashing peals.

The Electoral Prince, too, would rise from his seat, but his head swam,

all was whirls and turns before his eyes, and he sank back upon his chair.

Gabriel Nietzel stooped over him. "How are you, gracious sir? Are you not

well?"

"Quite well as yet, Gabriel. Only give me a fresh glass of water and put

some sugar in it."

Gabriel Nietzel flew to the sideboard, and, while he filled a glass with

water, his pale lips murmured, "Your evil genius bade you say that!" And

while he shook into the glass the white pulverized sugar, which, by the

way, he had not taken from the bowl standing on the sideboard, in the

depths of his heart he whispered, "Rebecca, this I do for you!"

He took up the tall tumbler and presented it to the Electoral Prince.

Frederick William seized the glass and drank, in long draughts. It had

done him good, his head was easy again, there was no longer such a fearful

roaring in his ears.

George William's countenance glowed and his eyes burned. He loved the

pleasures of the table, and the wine was costly and had driven all ill

humor from his heart. He now felt quite comfortable, quite happy, and bent

friendly glances across upon his son, who was so splendid, so glorious to

look upon, and the sight of whom, although he would probably not

acknowledge it to himself, rejoiced his father's heart.

Frederick William had just removed the great goblet from his lips, and

placed it half full upon the table. The Elector saw it, the cold liquor

looked inviting, and at the same time he would give his son a public token

of his kindly disposition: all the guests must see how high in his favor

stood the Electoral Prince.

"You drink water, my son?" he asked. "That is wise and prudent, and

deserves to be imitated at this table of reveling. I will follow your

example, Frederick William. Hand your glass across the table to me, son."

The Electoral Prince hastily rose from his seat, and tried to hand the

glass to his father; but his hand trembled so violently that he could not

hold the glass; it escaped from his hands, and fell with a crash upon the

table.

The Electress uttered a piercing cry, the Princesses shrieked aloud. The

music stopped in the midst of a strain commenced, the guests interrupted

their conversation, and all eyes were directed to the middle of the table,

where the Electoral family was seated. What did it mean? Prince Frederick

William rose from his seat. His countenance was pale as death, but he

still tried to keep a smile upon his lips. He bowed across the table to

his father. "Your pardon, sir. Permit me to absent myself, for I am not

quite well."

"Go, my son!" exclaimed George William. "That comes from not being

accustomed to strong Hungarian wine!" And the Elector turned, laughing, to

his wife, who glanced anxiously at her son. "Your wise son," said he, "has

learned everything, only he has not learned to drink. He has not been

taught that in your uncle's polite and polished court, and we must supply

their negligence here."

The Electoral Prince reeled through the hall, waving off all who

approached him or offered him assistance. "It is nothing, nothing at all,"

he said with cheerful, broken voice. "I have taken a little cold. Let me

get away unnoticed."

All kept their seats, as the Prince desired, and as the Elector required

by tarrying himself at the table. Only the Stadtholder, in his capacity of

host, had risen from the table to offer his guidance to the Electoral

Prince. He approached him, proffering the support of his arm.

"Will your highness do me the honor to rest upon my arm, and permit me to

escort you to your carriage?"

The Electoral Prince shuddered, and, suddenly lifting his head, flashed an

angry glance from his already clouded eyes into the proud, composed

countenance of the count. But it quickly vanished, Frederick William

accepted Schwarzenberg's proffered arm, and, leaning upon him, tottered

out of the hall into the antechamber. His countenance was deadly pale,

dark circles were under his eyes, his lips were colorless, his eyes

bloodshot. But still he maintained his erect position by mere force of

will, and even controlled himself so far as to smile and address a few

friendly words to the count.

"My heavens, noble sir!" cried Schwarzenberg, with an expression of

painful horror, "this is more than a mere passing indisposition. You are

really sick--you are suffering!"

"Not so, count. I am not suffering at all, and it is only a trifling

ailment. My father is quite right--the strong wine has mounted to my head.

I am not used to drinking and feasting, that is all. To-morrow

will--Count, I beg you to lead me to my carriage. It is dark before my

eyes!"

And the Prince sank back groaning and half unconscious. The count beckoned

the princely Chamberlain von Götz to approach, and the two gentlemen,

aided by a few lackeys, bore the Prince carefully out to the carriage.

Then Frederick William opened his eyes, his wandering glance strayed

around, and his lips stammered softly: "Where is Gabriel Nietzel? Is he

with me?"

But Gabriel Nietzel was nowhere to be seen; only the Chamberlain von Götz

was there, and he got into the carriage, which bore the deadly sick Prince

at full gallop to the palace.

Count Schwarzenberg looked after the retreating vehicle with earnest,

thoughtful face, then turned to re-enter the palace. On the threshold

stood Gabriel Nietzel, and the eyes of the two men met in one glance of

awe and horror.

"Your grace sees I have kept my word," murmured Gabriel Nietzel.

"Away!" commanded the count imperiously. "If you are not out of Berlin in

one hour I shall have you arrested by the police, and accuse you as the

murderer of the Electoral Prince, for you alone waited upon him! Be off!"

But Gabriel Nietzel stirred not from the threshold, and the look which he

fixed upon the count was not humble and reverential, but threatening.

"Sir," asked he shortly and harshly--"sir, where are Rebecca and my child?"

"At your lodgings, you fool! Hurry, I tell you!" And with ungentle hand

the count thrust the painter from the door, and returned to the banqueting

hall to inform the Elector and his spouse with smiling, almost mocking

gesture, that the young gentleman himself had said that the strong wine

had slightly affected his head, and produced a temporary indisposition.

The Elector laughed aloud, and the anxious brow of the Electress cleared

up again. The entertainment quietly proceeded.

Why should they be uneasy about the young gentleman, who had no other

sufferings than those resulting from unwonted indulgence in strong drink?

The Electoral Prince had meanwhile arrived with his chamberlain at the

castle. No one came to meet them. All the servants had dispersed hither

and thither, in pursuit of their own business or enjoyments. They knew,

indeed, that Count Schwarzenberg's feast would be continued to a late

hour of the night, and who could imagine that the Electoral Prince would

return home in so unexpected a manner? The castle was deserted, and the

chamberlain must needs summon to his aid the sentinel who was pacing up

and down before the castle, in order to lift the Prince from his carriage

and into the entrance hall. Now he called aloud for help, since the Prince

had become perfectly helpless, and lay senseless upon the stone bench in

the hall.

The porter, who was only asleep in his lodge, rushed out, and old

Dietrich, the valet, also came hurrying down the steps.

They bore the Prince to his own apartments, put him to bed upon his own

couch, and, as the Chamberlain von Götz saw the old faithful Dietrich

standing beside his young master, sobbing and so full of grief, he kindly

laid his hand upon his shoulder.

"It is nothing of moment, good old man. The Prince has only taken too much

wine, that is all. Be comforted. To-morrow will make all straight again."

Dietrich sorrowfully shook his head. "You are mistaken, Sir Chamberlain;

this is not the effect of wine. The Electoral Prince is much too fine and

noble a gentleman for that; he never drinks more than he can stand. Just

see how pale and wretched he looks. My dear young master is sick, very

sick. They have murdered him, they have killed him, they--"

"Hush, Dietrich, for God's sake, hush!" interposed the chamberlain,

turning pale. "Guard your tongue, that it never again utter such horrible

words; guard your thoughts, that they dare not even think anything so

dreadful."

"It is true, nevertheless," murmured the old man, and, as he bent over the

Electoral Prince and watched him with loving looks, the tears fell hot and

fast from his eyes upon Frederick William's pale face. These tears roused

the latter, restored him to consciousness.

There was yet one man who loved him, who sympathized with him, who wept

when he saw him suffer!

The Electoral Prince opened his eyes, and, on recognizing old Dietrich,

nodded to him and murmured softly, "Dietrich, I am suffering fearfully."

"Hear, Sir Chamberlain," said Dietrich; "the dear Prince recognizes me, he

has his reason, he knows what he sees and says, so you see it is not wine

that--But he says that he suffers fearfully, and I believe it indeed; for

what burns his vitals is--I must go for the physician, Dr. White; he must

try every means; he must know what ails the Prince--what they have done to

him; and he must apply remedies. Stay here, Sir Chamberlain; I will run

for Dr. White."

And old Dietrich hastily started to leave the couch, but the Prince's hand

was laid upon his arm, and held him fast.

"Stay, Dietrich, stay! You, dear Götz, go you, I beg, for Dr. White and

fetch him here; he must come immediately, for I am really sick. I suffer.

Make haste, dear Götz. You are younger, brisker than my good old Dietrich;

therefore I choose you."

The chamberlain pressed a kiss upon the Prince's burning, trembling hand.

"Dearest sir, as swiftly as a man's anxious heart can move his feet I

shall hasten to the doctor and bring him here!"

The chamberlain flew on tiptoe from the apartment, and all was still.

Nothing was heard but the low moans and sighs of the Prince, who lay there

with pallid features and shaking limbs, while over him bent weeping his

faithful old servant.

After a while the Prince raised himself a little, slowly opened his eyes,

and cast a sad, sweeping glance around the room.

"Dietrich, are we alone?" he asked, in a hoarse, almost inaudible voice.

"Quite alone, gracious sir."