"I have not power to do so," replied Count Schwarzenberg haughtily,

"neither the power nor the will! The Swede is the enemy of our country,

and we must resist him with all the means at our command. Cease your

howling and shrieking, for it will be but in vain. War is upon us, and we

can not as cowards retreat before it. Shame upon you for your

pusillanimity and cowardice, since your men are still capable of bearing

arms!"

"Sir, our men have no more strength for fighting. Our hands are too weak

to hold a weapon."

"Oh, you will be forced to handle them!" cried Schwarzenberg, laughing

scornfully. "When your houses are on fire, and you see your wives and

children dragged off by soldiers, then these cowards will be turned into

valiant warriors, who can at least defend their lives and the honor of

their families! I tell you, though, it will come to that. Extremity is

before you, and calls for terrible resolutions."[42]

The burghers broke into loud lamentations, a few threw themselves on their

knees, others wept and wailed, while the lords of the magistracy

approached nearer to the count in order to make confidential

representations of the utter hopelessness and despondency of the two

unhappy cities of Berlin and Cologne.

Schwarzenberg, however, turned away from these representations with stern

composure. "I have not peace but war in hand," he said. "Why do you apply

to me now when you think, nevertheless, that you can receive no good save

from the Elector himself, who is your guardian angel, while I am the

destroying one. Wait and see what news the deputation of the States will

bring you from Königsberg. You besought the States in your time of trouble

to appeal to the Elector himself. Well, be patient and await their return.

However, I can tell you beforehand that they will bring you a refusal, for

the Elector wishes war, and has given me orders to that effect. He has

confirmed me in all my offices and dignities. He has most condescendingly

assured me of his unlimited confidence, and empowered me to act according

to my own unbiased judgment, and to guide the reins of government as I

shall choose. I hold them tight, and shall not he turned out of my way by

your whining and complaining. War is upon us, and should I have to lay

Berlin in ashes to avoid giving a shelter and asylum to the Swedes, it

shall be done, rather than conclude peace with them, yield to their

degrading conditions, and give up Pomerania to them! I therefore advise

you to be on good terms with the soldiers, to receive them kindly into

your houses, to entertain them well--"

"Sir," interrupted the first burgomaster, with a bitter cry of

distress--"sir, we have nothing with which we could entertain them, we--"

"Silence!" called out the Stadtholder, in a thundering voice--"silence! I

have heard you out, and it is my turn now to speak, and yours to listen

silently. Go and take your measures accordingly, and act as becomes

obedient subjects."

He turned upon his heel and with proud bearing re-entered his cabinet,

while the burghers sorrowfully slunk away, to spread throughout all Berlin

the dreadful news that all their entreaties had been in vain, and that the

war was to be prolonged.

"Yes, the war is to be prolonged," repeated Count Schwarzenberg, when he

again found himself alone in his cabinet. "We approach the _dénouement_,

and if I could only get decisive tidings from my son, I would hurry on a

crisis and begin open war. He keeps me waiting for such tidings a very

long while," continued the count, dropping into the armchair in front of

his writing table. "He has only written once to me from Regensburg, and

then he could only inform me that he had commenced operations, and--Ah!"

he interrupted himself, as his glance fell upon his table, "there are

papers and dispatches, which must have come in my absence. Perhaps there

is among them a letter from my son."

He hastily snatched up the letters and examined one after another. No,

there was no letter from his son, only official documents from the

Elector's cabinet.

He opened the first of these, and a shudder ran through his whole frame as

he read. In this paper the Elector commanded the Stadtholder in the Mark

to send back to him the blank charters, intrusted to him by the Elector

George William on his departure for Königsberg; he must, moreover, render

a distinct and exact account of the manner in which he had disposed of the

charters no longer in existence. _He_, Schwarzenberg, the mighty

Stadtholder in the Mark, the Grand Master of the Knights of St. John, the

Director of the War Department--_he_, to be called to account as a servant

by his master! He was expected to answer for what he had done in the

plenitude of his power, and--worse than that--he must suffer that power to

be limited! He would do nothing of the sort; he would not give up the

blank charters not yet appropriated and send them back to the Elector!

That was to curtail the privileges of his high position, to dethrone him,

and, after having been an absolute master, to make him a dependent

servant! These blank charters had been the princely prerogative of the

Stadtholder, the scepter with which he ruled! These papers, on which

nothing was written, but at the lower corner of which stood the Elector's

sign manual--these papers had made him absolute monarch of the Mark. In

free plenitude of power, with unfettered will, had he filled up the

vacant sheets, bestowing by their means honors and benefits, inflicting

punishments, imposing taxes, and the Elector's signature had legalized his

decrees, and imparted the force of law to his will.[43]

And these blank charters, before which his enemies trembled, which had

struck his partisans and friends as a precious attribute of his

power--these blank charters he was now called upon to resign!

"I shall not do it," he exclaimed, in a loud, determined voice--"no, I

shall not do it! I shall not be such a fool as to lessen my own power. No;

the blank charters are mine, I shall know how to hold them fast!"

He threw the rescript aside and seized another letter. Again from the

Elector's cabinet--again a command from him to the Stadtholder in the Mark!

He broke open the seal, unfolded the paper with trembling hands, and again

shuddered as he read; and a momentary pallor overspread his cheeks. This

writing contained the Elector's orders to suspend hostilities, and to

refrain from any attack upon the Swedes and the places occupied by them,

and most rigidly to confine himself to the defensive until an abiding

peace could be concluded with Sweden.[44]

"You assail me, little Elector!" he said, with smothered, threatening

voice. "You bring out your reserves against me, and would cause the proud

edifice of my power to crumble away stone by stone! You fear lest if the

great Colossus falls at once it might crush you, and therefore you would

destroy it piecemeal, a little at a time! You shall not succeed, though,

little Elector; the Colossus will rear its head on high, and you alone

will fall!"

At this moment loud, angry and excited voices made themselves heard from

the antechamber, and a lackey tore open the door.

"Your excellency, the Commandants von Rochow, von Kracht, and Colonel von

Goldacker request an audience."

But the three gentlemen did not wait for the granting of this audience.

With unseemly haste they rushed into the cabinet, unceremoniously thrust

out the lackey, and closed the door behind him.

"Most gracious sir, do you know it?" screamed Rochow, the commandant of

Spandow.

"Do you know, your excellency, what things are going on?" growled Kracht,

the commandant of Berlin.

"Have you learned what bold steps the Elector is taking?" thundered

Colonel Goldacker, shaking his fist in a most menacing way.

"I know nothing, gentlemen, have heard nothing! Speak, tell me what has

happened!"

"It has happened that the Elector has sent commissioners to all our

fortresses!" cried Herr von Rochow. "Two hours ago such a cursed fellow

came to me at Spandow, and when he had delivered me his message I left the

fool standing there without any answer, threw myself on my horse, and

galloped off to confer with your excellency."

"And such a confounded popinjay has been with me, too!" growled Herr von

Kracht. "He also imparted to me his Electoral message--command, the fellow

called it. I did just like Commandant von Rochow, left him standing while

I hurried off to your excellency."

"An Electoral mandate reached me also!" cried Colonel Goldacker, laughing.

"I simply showed the jackanapes the door, laughed him to scorn, and am

come to get my orders from your excellency!"

"But, gentlemen, with all this I know nothing and can not find out what

has happened. Sir Commandant von Rochow, inform me. What is the matter?"

"The matter is, your excellency," said Herr von Rochow, gnashing his

teeth, "that a commissioner from the Elector has come to me with his

master's orders, to require an oath of allegiance to the Elector from

myself and the whole garrison."

"A like order has the Elector's deputy handed to me!" cried the commandant

of Berlin; "the fellow wanted to swear me and my men into the Elector's

service."

"I, too, must give such an oath to the commissioner!" screamed Goldacker,

"and my troops as well. What do you say to that, Sir Stadtholder in the

Mark?"

Just now, however, the Stadtholder said nothing. He turned pale and

tottered backward, until his hand rested upon a chair into which he sank.

His head swam, a sudden dizziness seized him, and he was obliged to put

his hand over his eyes, for everything was turning and whirling in a

circle around him. In the vehemence of their own excitement the three

gentlemen hardly observed this, and the count, with the energy of his

strong will, speedily recovered his composure and presence of mind.

"Your excellency!" cried Commandant von Kracht, "do you not agree with us?

Do you not find the Elector intolerably assuming?"

"I was silent because I was reflecting, gentlemen," said the count,

drawing a deep breath. "This appearance of the commissioner empowered to

administer to you your oaths of office is a challenge, thrown down to me

by the Elector, for I am Director of the War Department, and to me alone

should that duty have been committed of again binding the troops in the

Mark to him by oath. He insults me, and thereby insults the Emperor, for

you all know that the Emperor is your commander in chief, and that you

dare never break the oath to the Emperor, which I took from you after the

conclusion of the peace of Prague. You swore to do your duty for Emperor

and Elector, and for this reason, on the recent accession of the present

Elector, I only required the colonels to give me their hands in token of

their obligations already assumed, for an oath is an oath, and you can not

swear to serve one to-day and another to-morrow."

"We can not and will not, either," shouted Colonel Goldacker furiously. "I

have given my word to the Emperor. I remain true to the Emperor, and the

Emperor will protect us against the insolence of the little Elector."

"Yes, the Emperor will protect us," cried Colonel von Rochow. "I shall

take no new oath, for I have sworn to the Emperor, and not until the

Emperor has released me from the oath, and I have made a new agreement

with the Elector, can I swear to him. Until that time the oath which I

have taken to the Emperor remains binding." [45]

"I, too, have sworn to serve the Emperor, and shall abide by my oath,"

said the commandant of Berlin, as if weighing each word. "No one has a

right to command here but the Emperor and the Stadtholder in the Mark,

whom the Elector himself appointed. What that vagabond of a commissioner

says is nothing to the purpose--it signifies nothing to us."

"No, it signifies nothing to us," repeated the other gentlemen. "From you

alone, Sir Stadtholder, can we receive orders, for you are Director of the

Council of War, the representative of the Emperor and Elector. To you

alone we belong. Give us your orders; we are here to receive them!"

"Gentlemen," said the Stadtholder, pointing with his finger to a sealed

packet, lying on the writing table before him--"gentlemen, you interrupted

me by your entrance in the perusal of important dispatches, which had just

arrived for me from the Elector's cabinet. See, there lies an unopened

writing with the Electoral seal. Allow me to read it, for it contains the

Elector's commands, which may harmonize with those of his accredited

commissioner, or at least enter into particulars with regard to them."

The three officers bowed and reverentially retreated a few steps; but

their eyes rested with intense interest upon the count, who now broke the

seal and unfolded the paper. A deep silence followed. The piercing glances

of the three warriors rested on the count's countenance, which maintained

steadfastly its grave, serious expression. But now a scornful laugh burst

from him, 'and for a moment an expression of wild joy illuminated his

features. He rose, and with the paper in his hand approached the soldiers.

"Gentlemen," he said quietly, "I have a piece of news to communicate to

you, which I fear will incommode you and your men a little, and is not

calculated to heighten the love of the military for their chief. The

Elector commands me, until further notice, to put the troops upon summer

allowance, and the payment now in arrears is regarded as coming under the

same regulation. I beg you will inform your troops of this."

"That is shameful! That is contemptible! That will put the soldiers in a

perfect fury!" screamed the three officers together.

"I do not mean to tell my men!" exclaimed Herr von Rochow--"no, I shall

not tell them, for the fellows would be frantic, and in their desperation

might commit shameful acts!"

"I shall tell my men on the spot!" grumbled Herr von Kracht. "I shall tell

them on purpose to make them desperate, to make them rave! As far as I am

concerned, they are welcome to vent their spleen upon all Berlin, upon the

whole region round about. Let them go around, plundering and laying the

country under contribution; they are justified in doing so, for the

fellows can not subsist in winter on summer allowance, and therefore must

rob and plunder."

"I shall tell my soldiers directly, too," shouted Herr von Goldacker. "Not

but that it will give rise to a pretty tale of murder, a devilish scandal.

There will result a military out-break, and the burghers of Berlin and

Cologne may look to themselves; but the Elector has so willed it--the

Elector excites us as well as our subordinates to open insurrection. Let

him work his will now; it will only convince him that we are not to be

ruled by scraps of paper and decrees scribbled by feather-headed clerks,

and that he is not the irresistible lord, to whose piping we dance. The

little Elector shall be made to know that the Emperor alone is our supreme

officer, to him we have sworn fealty, and to him we cling despite the

Elector and all his deputies. I am going on the spot to give my

commissioner his dismissal--to tell him that I shall not swear, and then

to carry to my soldiers the news of their having been put upon summer

allowance!"

"I will go with you," cried Herr von Kracht. "I will also put my

commissioner out of the door, and convey the glad tidings to the garrison

of Berlin."

"And I," said Herr von Rochow, "will forthwith dispatch a courier to

Spandow, to tell my lieutenant that he must send the commissioner out of

the fort, and tell the garrison that they are put on summer allowance. It

will stir up a fine hub-bub, I am sure of that."

"I, too, believe that the end will not be perfect peace," said the

Stadtholder, smiling. "Let the Elector learn that governing is not such an

easy matter as he supposes, but that a man may know a good deal, and yet

be an unskillful ruler. Go then, gentlemen, issue your orders, but forget

not that in an hour our entertainment begins, and that we must not allow

our feast to be disturbed by such little follies of the new _regime_."

"No, we will not allow ourselves to be disturbed!" cried Herr von Rochow.

"In one hour expect us here again, and you shall see, most gracious sir,

that we have brought with us our cheerfulness, our fine appetites, and our

thirst."

"Yes, yes, your excellency, guard well your keys and bottles; we shall

take the field against them."

"Do so, gentlemen," said the count. "But go now, to return the sooner."

He nodded kindly to the officers and followed them with his eyes until the

door closed behind them. Then the composure of his features, the smile on

his lip, vanished, and his whole being seemed to express agitation and

bitterness of wrath.

"He will insist upon war," he said fiercely. "He smiles upon and strokes

me with one hand, while with the other he stabs me, inflicting wound upon

wound. Yes, yes, stone by stone he would crumble to dust the tower of my

strength, and thinks to crush me to atoms, supposing that I will

voluntarily bend to avoid being bent by him. Oh, you are mistaken, little

Elector; I am not afraid of you, I shall not bend before you! The Emperor

alone I serve, to him alone I am subject. But to me the Emperor is a

gracious master. He will ruin you and exalt me; he will protect me against

your arrogance. To me belongs the future, presumptuous young Prince! who

would rule here, where I have held undisputed sway for twenty years. To me

alone belongs the Mark, and I shall hold it for my lord and Emperor! The

crisis has come, and finds me prepared and resolute. The troops will

revolt, and then shall I step out among them, appease them in the

Emperor's name, with lavish hand scatter money among them, and again bind

them by oath to the Emperor! Oh, my heart leaps for joy, for the hour of

action has come. Only one thing I lack. I would just like to have certain

news from my son, to be sure that the Emperor approves of my plan, that he

will lift me up where the Elector would cast me down. But this, too, will

come, this wish will also be gratified. For I am a son of good fortune,

and all goes in accordance with my wishes! Away then with all sad and

gloomy thoughts! I would present a cheerful countenance to my guests--I

would appear before them in the full splendor of my glory!"

He repaired to his dressing room, where his valets arrayed him in the

magnificent habit of a Grand Master of the Knights of St. John, and upon

his breast shone the cross of the order set with sparkling brilliants.

Having completed his toilet, he went to the great mirror and, casting a

cursory glance therein, said to himself with some satisfaction that his

person was still stately and distinguished, well suited to a reigning

prince and fitted for wearing a crown! This thought lighted up his

countenance with joyful pride, and with high head he returned to his

cabinet. Chamberlain von Lehndorf entered, to inform his most noble master

that the guests were already assembled in the great reception room, and

longingly awaited his appearance. The chamberlain handed the count his

ermine-tipped velvet cap, with its long white ostrich plumes, and then

flew before to open for him the doors leading to the small antechamber,

where were assembled all the officers of the count's household, waiting to

follow their master into the hall.

Lehndorf stood at the door of the antechamber, and the Stadtholder smiled

upon him as he passed.

"No letters and dispatches from my son at Regensburg, Lehndorf?"

"None, most gracious sir."

"If a courier comes, let me know of it without delay," continued the

count, moving forward. "Anything else new, Lehndorf?"

"Nothing new, your excellency."

"What noise was that just now in the antechamber, while the commandants

were in my cabinet?"

"Most gracious sir, an insolent soldier--one of those Saxons who marched

in yesterday--forced himself into the antechamber, and with real

importunity begged to speak to your excellency."

"Why did you not bid him wait until the gentlemen had, gone, and then

announce him?"

"He would not consent to wait by any means, and with brazen face demanded

to see your excellency on the spot. The fellow was drunk, it was plain to

see, and in his intoxication: kept crying out that he must talk with your

excellency about an important secret; if you would not admit him directly,

he would go to Prussia and tell your secret to the Elector, which would

bring your honor to the scaffold. It was positively ridiculous to hear the

fellow talk, and the lackeys, instead of getting angry, laughed outright

at him, which only enraged him the more; he worked his arms and legs like

a jumping jack and made faces like a nut-cracker. However, when he again

presumed to abuse your grace, our people made short work of the drunken

knave, and thrust him out of doors."

"Well, I hope his airing will do him good," said the count, smiling, "and

that he came to his senses on the street."

"It seems not, though," replied Chamberlain von Lehndorf, making a signal

to the halberdiers stationed on both sides of the doors of the grand

reception hall that they should open the door--"no, it seems that the

airing did the drunken soldier no good. For, only think, gracious sir,

just now, as I passed through the front entry to get to your apartments,

there the man stood, and as soon as he saw me he sprang at me, seized my

arm, and whispered: 'Chamberlain von Lehndorf, I _must_ speak to the

Stadtholder. Only tell him my name, and I know that he will receive me.'"

"And did he tell you his name, Lehndorf?" asked the count, as he walked

forward.

"Yes indeed, noble sir," laughed the chamberlain; "with monstrously

important air he whispered his name in my ear, as if he had been the Pope

in disguise or the Emperor himself. I laughed outright, and left him

standing."

The count now stood close before the wide-open doors which led into the

grand reception hall. The halberdiers struck upon the ground with their

gold-headed staves; in the spacious, magnificently decorated hall appeared

a dense throng of army officers in their glittering uniforms and civil

dignitaries in their ceremonial garbs of office. Six pages, in richly

embroidered velvet suits, stood on both sides of the door, while in the

raised gilded balcony opposite the musicians arose and began to pour forth

a thundering peal of welcome as soon as they caught sight of the

Stadtholder.

Count Schwarzenberg, however, took no notice of this; he stood upon the

threshold of the door, and his smiling face was still turned upon his

chamberlain.

"What name did the fellow give?" asked he carelessly.

"Oh, a very fine name, gracious sir. He had the same name as the blessed

archangel--Gabriel!"

"Gabriel?" echoed the count hastily and at the top of his voice, for the

musicians played so loud that a man could hardly hear his own voice, even

though he shouted. "Only Gabriel, nothing further?"

"Yes, most gracious sir," screamed the chamberlain, "he did call a second

name; but I confess _I_ did not pay much attention to it. I believe,

though, it was Nietzel. Yes, yes, I am quite sure he said Gabriel Nietzel!"

He shouted this out very loud, not observing, as he pronounced his last

words, that the music had ceased; the name Gabriel Nietzel, therefore,

rang like a loud call through the vast apartment, and the brilliant,

courtly assemblage laughed, although they understood not the connection

between the loud call and the hushing of the music. Chamberlain von

Lehndorf laughed too, and turned smiling to the count to apologize for his

involuntary transgression.

But Count Schwarzenberg did not laugh; he looked pale, and with trembling

lips addressed his chamberlain: "Lehndorf, hurry out and conduct the

soldier to my antechamber. Tell him I will come to him directly. Do not

let the man get out of your sight, watch him closely. In five minutes, as

soon as I have welcomed my guests, I will come to the antechamber and

speak to the fellow myself. Go!"

The chamberlain flew off to obey this behest, and the Stadtholder entered

the hall. Behind him were ranged the twelve pages in their glittering

clothes, then followed the officers of the household in splendid uniforms.

Again the trumpets of the musicians sent forth their animating peals, and,

ranged around the hall in a wide circle, the staff officers, high

dignitaries, lords of the supreme court and of the magistracy, all with

the insignia of their rank, bowed reverentially before the almighty lord,

who now made his progress through the hall amid the clashing of trombones

and trumpets. He passed along the brilliant rows of guests with quick,

hurried step, but while his lips wore a smile, he thought to himself,

"When this abominable ceremony is over and I have completed the circuit,

I shall absent myself; I shall see if it is the veritable Gabriel Nietzel,

the--"

Just at this moment Chamberlain von Lehndorf approached him, and bent

close to his ear. "Most gracious sir!" he cried amid the clash of

trumpets--"most gracious sir, the man is no longer there. He has gone and

can no longer be seen in the street!"

The Stadtholder gave a slight nod of the head, and proceeded to bid his

guests welcome.

VI.--REVENGE.

Sumptuous was the feast, choice were the viands, and costly the fragrant

wines. The guests of the Stadtholder in the Mark were full of rapture,

full of admiration, and their lips were lavish in praises of the noble

count, while their eyes shone brighter from partaking of the generous

wine. The lackeys flew up and down the hall, waiting upon the guests, the

pages stood behind the count's chair, and offered his excellency food and

drink in vessels of gold. At first they sat at table with grave and

dignified demeanor, but gradually the delicious viands enlivened their

hearts, the glowing wine loosened their tongues, and now they laughed and

talked merrily and gave themselves entirely up to the pleasures of the

table. Louder swelled the hum of mingled voices. Peals of laughter rang

through the banquet hall, until in their turn they were drowned by bursts

of dashing music, whose inspiring strains blended with the animated tones

of the human voice. Count Adam Schwarzenberg, who sat at the upper end of

the table under a canopy of purple velvet, heard all this, and yet it

seemed to him like a dream, and as if all this bustle, laughing, and

merrymaking came to him from the distant past. He heard the confusion of

voices, the clangor of the music, but it sounded hollow in his ear, and

above all rang fearfully distinct the name which Lehndorf had

pronounced--Gabriel Nietzel! His guests sang and laughed, but he heard

only that one name--Gabriel Nietzel!

Round about the long table he saw only glad faces, beaming eyes, and

flushed cheeks, but he saw them vanish and other faces arise before his

inner eye, faces of the past! There sat the Elector George William, with

his easy, good-natured countenance. He nodded smilingly at him, and his

glance, full of affection, rested upon _him_, the favorite. Yes, he had

loved him dearly, that good Elector! Out of the little, insignificant

Count Schwarzenberg he had made a mighty lord, had exalted him into a

Stadtholder, into the most powerful subject in his realm! And how had he

requited him?

"Gabriel Nietzel! Gabriel Nietzel!" He heard the maddening words ringing

clearly and distinctly above the din of music, song, and laughter--"Gabriel

Nietzel!"

There he stood in page's dress, across there, behind the chair of the

young Electoral Prince, whose pale, noble features had just begun to

quiver convulsively--there he stood and cast a look of intelligence at

_him_, Count Schwarzenberg.

"Gabriel Nietzel! Gabriel Nietzel!"

Ever thus rang the echo through the hall, and however varied the medley of

sounds, to him all was embodied in that name. For long months he had

caused search to be made for him, but nobody had been able to bring him

any tidings of Gabriel Nietzel's whereabouts. So, gradually, he had

forgotten him, and his anxiety about him had died away. Why must this

dreaded name make itself heard again to-day, just to-day, when he was

inaugurating the bright days of his future with this splendid feast? Why

must that hateful name mingle with the rejoicings of his merry guests?

He would think of it no more, no more allow himself to be haunted by

phantoms of the past! Away with memories, away with that unhappy name!

Vehemently, indignantly he shook his lofty head, as if these memories were

only troublesome insects to be driven away by the mere wrinkling of his

brow. He even called a smile to his lips, and with a proud effort at

self-control arose from his armchair and lifted the golden beaker on high,

in his right hand.

If he spoke himself, he would no longer hear that perpetual ringing and

singing within his breast--"Gabriel Nietzel! Gabriel Nietzel!"

He lifted the golden beaker yet higher and bowed right and left to his

guests, who had risen to their feet and looked at him full of expectancy.

"To the health of the Emperor Ferdinand, our most gracious Sovereign and

lord!"

The musicians struck their most triumphant melody; with loud huzzas and

shouts the guests repeated, "To the health of our most gracious lord and

Emperor!"

"Gabriel Nietzel! Gabriel Nietzel!" Still it rang in Schwarzenberg's ears,

and he sank back in his armchair and felt a sense of helpless despondency

creep over his heart.

The guests followed his example and resumed their seats. A momentary

silence ensued. All at once Chamberlain von Lehndorf rose from his place,

took his glass with him, and went along the table to the Counselor of the

Exchequer von Lastrow, who was carrying on an earnest conversation in an

undertone with the burgomaster of Berlin. The chamberlain's face was

flushed with wine, his eyes sparkled, and his gait was so wavering and

unsteady that even the goblet in his hand swung to and fro.

"Counselor von Lastrow," he said, with loud, peremptory voice, "you

refused to drink the health proposed by his excellency the Stadtholder in

the Mark. The toast was to his Majesty our lord and Emperor. You did not

lift up your glass, nor touch that of your neighbor. Wherefore was this?

Why did you not drink to the welfare of our lord and Emperor?"

"I will tell you why, Chamberlain von Lehndorf," replied Herr von Lastrow,

leaping up and confronting the chamberlain in his gay uniform, with dagger

dangling at his side--"I will tell you why I did not accept the

Stadtholder's toast, and may all his guests hear and ponder. I thank you,

Sir Chamberlain, for affording me an opportunity of expressing myself

openly and candidly on this subject. Permit me, gentlemen, to answer in

the hearing of you all the question which the chamberlain has addressed to

me."

As the counselor thus spoke his large black eyes surveyed both sides of

the long table. All present were silenced, all eyes were directed to the

lower end of the table, and each one listened with strained attention to

hear the answer of Herr von Lastrow.

Count Schwarzenberg had risen from his chair and given the rash

chamberlain a look of displeasure. Yet he felt so embarrassed by his own

anxiety that he dared not call him.

"Gabriel Nietzel! Gabriel Nietzel!" rang ever in his ears, frightening

away all other sounds, until they seemed to reach him only as dim and

hollow echoes from afar.

"Gentlemen!" cried Herr von Lastrow now, in a loud voice, "I did not drink

the Stadtholder's toast because it would have been contrary to my duty and

my oath. Ferdinand is Emperor of the German Empire, and as such we owe him

reverence and respect, but when the toast styles him our lord and Emperor

I can not respond to it, for Ferdinand is not my lord! No, the Elector

Frederick William is my master, and now I lift my glass and cry, 'Long

live Frederick William, our lord and Elector!'"

"Long live Frederick, our lord and Elector!" shouted voices here and there

at the table, and all followers of the Elector sprang from their seats,

held aloft their glasses, and shouted again and again, "Long live

Frederick William, our lord and Elector!"

"Strike up, musicians!" called Herr von Lastrow to the balcony, where the

musicians sat, who lifted their trombones and trumpets and put them to

their lips. But before a note was struck, Lehndorf shouted fiercely up to

them: "Silence! Dare not to blow a single blast! I forbid you in the name

of our master, the Emperor!"

A wild yell of indignation from the Electoralists and a loud burst of

applause from the Imperialists followed these words. Nobody remembered

any longer that he was there as the guest of Schwarzenberg, the proud

count and Stadtholder. All prudence, all sense of respect was swallowed up

in the storms of political passion. With threatening aspect and flashing

eyes stood the Electoralists and Imperialists opposite each other, and,

while the former lifted up their glasses, to touch them in honor of their

Sovereign and Elector, the latter knocked their glasses tumultuously on

the table, and broke out into loud laughter and deafening imprecations. No

one any longer paid honor to the master of the house--no one thought of

him, in fact. He had risen from his seat with the intention of going to

the other end of the table, where now a furious duel of words was

progressing between his chamberlain and Herr von Lastrow. He desired to

pacify them, to smooth over the contention; but it was already too late,

for ere he had reached the middle of the hall, a catastrophe had occurred

between the contending parties. Counselor von Lastrow raised his arm, and

administered to Chamberlain Lehndorf a sounding box upon the cheek.

One unanimous shriek of rage from the Imperialists, and they rushed toward

Lehndorf and drew their swords. Behind Lastrow the Electoralists ranged

themselves, and they, too, laid bare their weapons.

Count Schwarzenberg tottered back. He perceived that it was too late to

pacify now, that all temporizing had become impossible. He had a feeling

that he must flee away, that it did not comport with his dignity to stand

there powerless and inactive between two factions. In this moment of

weakness and indecision his confidential valet approached him.

"Most gracious sir," he whispered, "a courier from Regensburg, from Count

John Adolphus, has just arrived. I have already laid the letter upon your

excellency's writing table. It is marked 'urgent.'"

Count Schwarzenberg turned to hurry from the hall, to escape the wild

tumult, to take refuge in his cabinet, and, above all things, to read the

long-expected letter from his son.

The uproar in the hall waxed ever fiercer, weapons clashed and wild battle

cries resounded. He quickened his pace, and opened the door of the hall.

Behind him rang out a piercing shriek, a death cry! Quivering in every

fiber of his being the count turned round to--Once more that piercing

shriek was heard, and Herr von Lastrow, with Lehndorf's dagger in his

breast, fell backward into the arms of his friends with the death rattle

in his throat.[46]

Count Schwarzenberg, seized with horror, rushed on through the deserted,

brilliantly lighted apartments--on, ever on. But that fearful shriek went

with him, ringing ever in his ears. It drove him onward like a fury, and

his hair stood on end and his heart beat to bursting.

He had heard it once before, that death cry!

In the stillness of night it had sounded that time in the castle of

Berlin, when a pale woman had knelt at his feet and pleaded for her life!

Often had he heard it since; it had awakened him from sleep, it had often

startled him when engaged in merry conversation with his friends; at the

festive board it had drowned the music as far as he was concerned, this

death cry, this Fury of his conscience!

At last he reached his cabinet. He threw himself into a chair. God be

thanked, he was alone here! He had quiet and solitude here!

He surveyed the room and an infinite feeling of relief and security came

over him.

Alone!

"Gabriel Nietzel! Gabriel Nietzel!" was whispered in his heart, and he

looked timidly around, as if he feared to see him in each corner. Then a

shriek resounded in his ear--that death cry!

It had penetrated into his quiet cabinet, she stood behind him, she

screamed in his ear, "Gabriel Nietzel! Rebecca!"

Perfectly unmanned, the count leaned back in his easychair, the sweat

standing in great drops upon his brow. He no longer even remembered that

he had come there to read his son's important letter! His soul was

shattered in its inmost depths. Gabriel Nietzel was there again! A murder

had been committed in his house--at his table! Committed, too, by his own

servant, his favorite, his friend! He durst not pardon him; he must punish

the murderer according to the law. He must pronounce sentence of death on

him, who had slain his fellow-man! He foresaw this in the future! He saw

himself as judge, the viceregent of God and justice, opposite the pale

criminal, his servant, his friend, upon whom he pronounced sentence!

He! Would his lips dare to utter a sentence of death? Dared the murderer

condemn?

"Gabriel Nietzel! Gabriel Nietzel! Rebecca! Rebecca!" screamed the voice

behind his chair. But hark! what noise is that? What means that confused

jumble of groans and yells and shouts--that howling as of fierce and

sweeping winds, that roar as of the mighty deep? What is that so like the

rolling of thunder? Are those wolflike howls the voices of men? Is that

the tramp of human feet? Before his windows it surges and dashes, howls

and roars!

With difficulty Schwarzenberg rises from his chair, and, creeping to the

window, conceals himself behind the hangings and cautiously looks out upon

the street. A dense throng of soldiers surges beneath his windows; the

whole street, the whole square is packed with them. Angry faces, the

voices of furious men, hundreds upon hundreds of uplifted fists and

portentous growls!

"He shall pay us our money! He wants to cheat us out of our pay! He wants

to put us upon summer allowance and pocket the rest of the money! It is

said this is done by the Elector's command. But it is a lie, an abominable

lie! Schwarzenberg lets nobody command him. He is master here. He wants us

to starve that his own riches may be increased. We will not suffer it! He

shall pay us for it! Hurrah! Storm the house!"

"A mutiny!" muttered Count Schwarzenberg. "They were to have rebelled, and

so they do. But they rebel against me! I flung down the sword, and its

point is turned against myself. So the spirits of hell grant what they

have promised us--what we have purchased at the price of our souls! They

give the reward, but even while they are paying it out to us it becomes a

curse and ruins us!"

How they storm and rage and roar without! How they beat and hammer against

the locked doors! Count Schwarzenberg stands behind the window and hears

them! He hears other voices, too--Goldacker, Kracht, and Rochow

endeavoring to calm them, exhorting them to be patient.

Futile efforts! Ever louder grow the knocking and thundering against the

house. Stones are hurled against the walls, the window shutters rattle and

are shivered to pieces, the doors creak and give way.

"If they attempt to murder me, I shall not stand on the defensive,"

murmurs Count Schwarzenberg to himself, as he retires from the window,

slowly traverses the apartment, and again sinks down upon the chair by his

writing table. The door of the cabinet is violently torn open, and in rush

the Commandants von Kracht and von Rochow, followed by the captains of

their regiments.

"Gracious sir, it is impossible to calm these madmen. They no longer heed

orders. They are beside themselves with rage. They have already broken

open the doors and forced their way into the entrance hall. They will

plunder and despoil the whole palace! We can save nothing more, prevent

nothing more! You are lost, so are we, and all Berlin!"

"Be it so!" says Schwarzenberg loftily. "Let the whole earth fall down and

overwhelm me in its ruins. I shall but be buried beneath them!"

"Gracious sir, only hear! The howling and yelling come ever nearer, and

are continually gaining in strength! Gracious sir, have pity upon us,

upon yourself! Save us all!"

"Save? How can I save any one? Will those savage hordes obey me, when they

refuse submission to you, their officers?"

"Gracious sir, they demand their pay! They demand money! Nothing will

appease them but money, and assurances that they shall have their winter

allowance. Give us money to quiet that raging host! Money--money!"

"How much would you have? How much is needful to tame that fierce, wild

horde?"

"Three hundred dollars!" calls out Herr von Kracht.

"No; four hundred dollars!" shouts Herr von Rochow.

"Five hundred dollars!" growls Herr von Goldacker. "No, give us six

hundred dollars, which would do the thing thoroughly."

"Well, be it six hundred dollars then," says the count, with an expression

of contemptuous scorn. "Stay here, gentlemen; I will return directly. I am

only going to fetch the money."

He left the cabinet and entered his sleeping apartment, where, at the side

of the bed, stood the great iron chest to which he alone had the key.

After a few minutes he rejoined the officers in his cabinet. He had six

rolls of money in his hand, two of which he handed to each of the three

gentlemen.

"Here, gentlemen," he said, with bitter mockery, "here are the commandants

who have authority to bring their troops to order. Go and show them to

your men, and order them to follow these commandants to the cathedral

square, and there distribute the money among them."

The gentlemen wished to thank him, but with a wave of his hand he pointed

them to the door, and they hurried out to their soldiers.

Schwarzenberg looked after them, and listened to the rumbling and roaring

without in the entrance hall of his house. Suddenly it became gentler, and

finally ceased altogether. Then, after a pause, rang forth a loud shout of

joy, and again the street filled with soldiers, again was heard the loud

tramp of feet, the uproar and confusion of many tongues. "The wretches

have marched off," murmured Count Schwarzenberg to himself. "Yes, yes,

with money we buy love, with money hatred and--"

"Hurrah! Long live Count Schwarzenberg!" sounded below his windows. "Long

live the Stadtholder in the Mark!"

"That shout costs me six hundred dollars," said he, shrugging his

shoulders. "To-morrow, most likely the mob will come again to threaten me,

that I may again purchase a cheer from them. Well, for the present at

least I have rest. Nobody shall disturb me. Nobody shall intrude upon me."

He stepped to the doors leading into his sleeping room and antechamber,

and bolted them both. He did not think of the secret door which led to the

little corridor and thence to the private staircase, and did not bolt

that. Why should he have done so? The steps were so little used, so few

knew of them, so few, of the existence of the little side door which led

to them. It was not necessary to lock that door, for no one would come to

him in that way.

He was alone, God be praised, quite alone! And now again he remembered

the important letter, which he had forgotten while the soldiers' riot was

in progress. There lay his son's letter, on his writing table. He hastened

thither and seated himself in the armchair, taking up the letter and

examining its address. The sight of his son's handwriting rejoiced his

heart, as a greeting from afar.

He drew a deep sigh of relief. All anguish, all cares had left him as soon

as he took his son's letter in his hand. Even the warning voice in his

heart had hushed, even the Fury no longer stood behind his chair; he no

longer heard her death cry. All was silent in that spacious apartment

behind him, on which he turned his back.

He took the letter, broke the seal, and slowly unfolded the paper. But now

he put off reading its contents for one moment more. This sheet of paper

contained the decision of his whole future, it would either exalt him into

a reigning prince by bringing him the Emperor's sanction, or lower him

into an underling of the Elector, making him a nobody, if--But no, it was

impossible! The Emperor would not disavow him! It was folly to think of

such a thing!

He fixed his eyes on the paper and began to read. But as he read, his

breath came ever quicker, his cheeks became more pale, his brow more

clouded. His hands began to tremble so violently that the paper which they

held rattled and shook, and finally dropped on the table.

Motionless and gasping for breath the count sat there, staring at the

letter. Then its contents flashed through him like a sudden shock, and,

collecting his faculties, he once more snatched up the paper.

"It is impossible!" he cried aloud, "I read falsely! That can not be! My

eyes surely deceived me! My ears shall lend their evidence! I will hear my

sentence of condemnation!"

And with loud voice, occasionally interrupted by the convulsive groans

which escaped his breast, he read: "I am grieved to announce to you,

beloved and honored father, that our affairs have not prospered, as we

hoped and expected. Through the intercession of good Father Silvio, I had

a long interview yesterday with the Emperor. And the result of it is this:

The Emperor loves you, it is true; he calls you his most faithful servant,

and promises ever to be a gracious Sovereign to you, but he will never

further your projects of becoming an independent ruler, and will not

assist you to effect the Elector's ruin, that you may usurp his place. He

rather wishes you to remain what you are--Stadtholder in the Mark--and to

exert all your energies in maintaining that position, since the Emperor

relies upon your good offices for securing him an ally in the Elector. The

Mark is to remain Frederick William's domain, but the Elector must become

an Imperialist. Such is the will and pleasure of the Emperor. He urged me

to beg you to evince more complaisance and deference for the Elector, that

you may acquire influence over him. The Emperor had been much shocked by

the news sent him from Königsberg by Martinitz. It appears certain from

this information, my dear father, that the Elector is much set against

you, and that he only makes use of your continuance in office as a mask,

behind which he may, unseen, direct his missiles against you. The Elector

has taken your refusal to come to Königsberg upon his invitation in very

ill part, and it has excited his highest displeasure. We have played a

dangerous game, and I fear we have lost it."

"Lost!" screamed the count, crushing the paper in his hand into a ball and

dashing it to the ground. "Yes, I have lost and am ruined! The end and aim

of my whole life are defeated! I aimed at the summit, and when I have

nearly reached my goal an invisible hand hurls me back, and I am plunged

into an abyss!"

"As serves you right, for God is just!" said a solemn voice behind him,

and a hand was laid heavily upon his shoulder.

Count Schwarzenberg uttered a shriek of horror and turned round. A soldier

stood behind him--an Imperial soldier in dirty, tattered garments, a poor,

miserable man. And yet the count sprang from his chair, as if in the

presence of some prince or superior being before whom he must bow with

reverence. With bowed head he stood before this soldier, and dared not

look him in the face!

Yes, it was a prince, it was a superior being before whom he bowed! He

stood before his judge, he stood before his conscience! He knew it, he

felt it! A cold hand was laid upon his heart and contracted it

convulsively; it was laid upon his head and bowed it low. Death was there,

and his name was Gabriel Nietzel!

"Gabriel Nietzel!" murmured his ashy pale lips, "Gabriel Nietzel!"

"You recognize me, then?" said the soldier quietly and coldly. "Look at

me, count, lift your eyes upon me! I want to see your countenance!"

With a last effort of strength Count Schwarzenberg resumed his

self-control. He raised his head, affecting his usual proud and

self-satisfied air. "Gabriel Nietzel!" he cried, "Whence come you? What

would you have of me? How did you come in here?"

"How did I come in?" repeated he. "Through yon door!"

And he pointed at the door opening upon the secret staircase. "I came

twice and begged to be allowed access to you, but was refused. This time I

admitted myself. You once sent me down the secret stairway, and pointed

out that mode of exit to me yourself, when your son was coming to visit

you. What do I want? I want you to give me my wife, my Rebecca; and if you

have murdered her, I want _your life_!"

"Would you murder me?" exclaimed the count in horror, while moving slowly

backward. Keeping his eyes fixed upon Gabriel Nietzel, he sought to gain

the door to his bedchamber. But Nietzel guessed his design and disdainfully

shook his head. "Do not take that trouble," he said. "I have abstracted

both keys and put them in my pocket. You can not escape me."

Count Schwarzenberg's eyes darted a quick, involuntary glance across at

the round table on which stood his bell. Nietzel intercepted this glance

and understood that the count meant to call his people. He took up the

bell and thrust it into his bosom.

"Give up your efforts to evade me," he said. "God sends me to you. God

will punish your crime by means of this hand, which you once bribed to

commit a murderous deed. Count Schwarzenberg, you have acted the part of

the devil toward me! You have robbed me of my soul! Give it back to me! I

demand of you my soul!"

"He is insane," said Count Schwarzenberg, softly to himself. But Nietzel

caught his meaning.

"No," he said sorrowfully--"no, I am not insane. God has denied me that

consolation. I know what has been, and what is. There was a time--a

glorious, blessed time--when I forgot everything, when all pain was

banished, and I was happy--ah, so happy! They said, indeed, that I was

mad; they called it sickness, forsooth, and locked me up, and tormented

me. But I was so happy, for _I_ saw my Rebecca always before me, she was

ever at my side and--Count, where have you left my Rebecca? Where is she?

Give her to me! I will have her again, my own Rebecca! Give her back to

me, directly, on the spot!"

He seized him with both his arms, his hands clutching his shoulders like

claws. "Where is Rebecca--my Rebecca?"

Gabriel Nietzel stared at the count with frenzied fury, with devouring

grief. Schwarzenberg cast down his eyes, a shudder passed over his frame,

and terror-stricken he turned his head. It seemed to him as if, while

Gabriel pressed upon his shoulders in front, some one came stealthily up

to him from behind. He heard a cry--a death cry! The Fury was there again!

He could not escape her now!

"Let me go, Gabriel Nietzel," he said feebly. "Quit your hold, go away. I

will give you treasures, honors, distinctions, if you only quit your hold

and go away!"

"What will you give me, if I let you go?" screamed Gabriel Nietzel,

tightening his grasp and shaking him violently. "What will you give me?"

"I will give you a fine house, I will give you thousands, I will give you

rank and titles. Tell me what you want, and I will give it to you!"

"Give me Rebecca! I want _her_ and her alone! Tell me where she is or I

will kill you!"

"She is in my house at Spandow," said the count hastily. "Come, we will go

away. You shall have your Rebecca again. Come, let us go! Rebecca is

longing for you! Come!"

"You are deceiving me!" laughed Gabriel Nietzel. "I see it in your eyes,

you are deceiving me. You want me to open the doors, and then you will

call your people. There is no truth in what you say. Rebecca is not at

Spandow; I know that, for I have been there. I stood many hours before the

windows of your palace and called upon her name. She would have heard if

she had been there; she would have come to me--she would have freed me

from all my sufferings. For, you must know, my Rebecca loved me! Because

she loved me, that she might expiate the crime which you had tempted me to

commit, that she might lift the weight of sin from my head, she went back

to Berlin and bade me go on with our child. I had solemnly sworn that to

her, and I kept my oath. I went on, following the route we had agreed upon

together. I waited for her at every resting place, and always waited in

vain. I came to Venice, and went to the house of Rebecca's father; but she

was not there. I wanted to go in search of her, but they held me fast,

they imprisoned me in a dark dungeon. And there I sat a whole century, and

yet was patient, ever waiting for the moment when I might escape from them

and go to look for my Rebecca. And at last the moment came. The jailer

entered to bring me my food; we were quite alone, and they had taken off

my chains, for I had been harmless and gentle for some months past. I

seized him, choked him, so that he could not scream, took his keys, and

fled. God helped me; he always pities the poor and unfortunate--he knew

that I wanted to search for Rebecca. I came to Germany; I enlisted as a

soldier, for I durst not die of hunger, else I could not reach Berlin and

find my Rebecca. But now I am here, and ask you in the name of God and in

view of the judgment day, where is Rebecca?"

"I do not know," murmured Count Schwarzenberg, whom Gabriel Nietzel still

held closely pinioned in his grasp.

"You do not know?" shrieked Gabriel Nietzel. "I read it in your face, you

have murdered her. Yes, yes, I see it, I feel it--you have murdered her!

Confess it, wretch! fall down upon your knees and confess that you have

murdered Rebecca!"

Schwarzenberg would have denied it, but he could not; conscience paralyzed

his tongue, so that it could not utter the falsehood. He wanted to make

resistance against those dreadful hands which held him fast, but he had no

more power. Everything swam before him, there was a roaring in his ears,

his knees tottered and shook, and the perspiration stood in great drops

upon his brow.

"Mercy," he murmured, with quivering lips--"mercy! I will make good again,

I--"

"Can you give me Rebecca again?" asked Gabriel, who now suddenly passed

from the extreme of wrath to a cold tranquillity. "Can you undo and make

null your evil deeds? Can you take from me the guilt you brought upon me?

_No_, you can not, and therefore you must die, for crime must be expiated!

You murdered my Rebecca, and therefore I shall murder you. Adam

Schwarzenberg, pray your last prayer, for I am here to kill you!"

"No, you will not!" cried Schwarzenberg. "No; you will be reasonable--you

will accept my offers! I promise you wealth and consideration, I--"

"Silence and pray, for you must die! Death is here, Adam Schwarzenberg,

for Gabriel Nietzel is here!"

He saw it, he knew that Gabriel spoke the truth. He knew that this man,

with the pale, distorted, grief-worn face, with those large eyes flaming

with the fires of insanity, was to be his murderer. Death had come to

summon him away--death in the form of Gabriel Nietzel!

And so, he was to die! He, the mighty, the rich, the noble Count

Schwarzenberg! _He_ whose name all Germany revered, _he_ before whom all

bowed in humility, who had had control over millions! _He_ was to die by

the hand of a madman, to die alone, unwept! If his son were only with him,

his dear, his only son, who loved him, who--"Have you prayed?" asked

Gabriel Nietzel, who had been waiting in silence.

"No," said Schwarzenberg, startled out of his train of thought--"no, I

have not prayed! Why do you ask that?"

"Because you must die!" replied Gabriel Nietzel, grasping him more firmly

with his left hand, and with his right drawing forth a dagger from his

breast. The count profited by this moment, tore himself loose, jumped

back, and rushed toward the open door of the secret passage. But Nietzel

sprang past him, and already stood before the door, confronting him again!

As he saw the dagger glitter in the air, he remembered, with the rapidity

of thought, the instant when he had stood before Rebecca, with the drawn

dagger in his hand.

She had cried "Mercy! mercy!" He wanted to cry so, too, but could not!

Like a flash of lightning it darted across his eyes, like a crushing blow

it fell upon his brain. He uttered a piercing shriek, tumbled backward,

and fell upon the ground, with rattling in his throat and with dimmed

eyes!

Gabriel Nietzel bent over him and looked long into that convulsed

countenance, and into those eyes which were fixed upon him with a look of

entreaty! Nietzel understood that look. "No," he said roughly--"no, I do

not forgive you, I have no pity upon you. Be you cursed and condemned, and

go to the grave in your sins! God has been gracious to me; he has not

willed it that I should be stained with your blood. He has laid his own

hand upon you and smitten you. You will perhaps have long to suffer yet.

Suffer!"

He put up his dagger, strode through the apartment, stepped out upon the

secret passage and closed the door behind him.

"And now," he said, when he found himself outside--"now I shall go and

acknowledge my sins to the Elector. He will be compassionate, and allow me

to mount the scaffold. I shall then have atoned for all, and will once

more be united to my Rebecca!"

Was it possible that this wretched, sobbing, deathly pale something, lying

there on the floor of the cabinet, was but a few hours since the proud,

the mighty, the dreaded and courted Count Adam von Schwarzenberg, the

Stadtholder in the Mark? Now he was a poor dying beggar, longing for a

drink of water, and with no one near to hand him the refreshing draught;

who longed for a tear, and had no one to weep for him; who longed for

forgiveness, and God himself would not forgive him! Hours, eternities of

anguish went by, and still he lay helpless and solitary upon the floor! He

plainly heard how they came and knocked, and then moved softly away,

because they supposed that he had shut himself up to work. He heard them,

but he could not call, for his tongue was palsied! He could not move, for

his limbs were paralyzed!

Hours, eternities of anguish went by. Then his old valet came through the

secret door, creeping softly in, and found him, that pitiable creature, on

the floor, and screamed for help. Then the doors were broken down, and the

servants came and the physicians. They lifted him up and bore him to the

divan. He breathed, he lived! Perhaps help might not yet be impossible!

Everything was tried, but all in vain. He still lived and breathed, but he

was paralyzed in all his limbs, and soon the inner organs, too, refused to

exercise their functions. They removed the invalid to Spandow because the

mutinous regiments were perpetually threatening to renew their attack upon

the count's palace, and might disturb the repose of the dying man. There

he lay in his castle, a living corpse for four days more, with open eyes,

giving token that he heard and understood what was passing about him.

Finally, at the end of four days, on the 4th of March, 1641, Count Adam

von Schwarzenberg closed his eyes, and of the haughty, powerful, dreaded

Stadtholder in the Mark, nothing was left but cold, stiff clay![47]

VII.--THE SEALING OF THE DOCUMENTS.

A courier, sent to Regensburg by Herr von Kracht, commandant of Berlin,

immediately upon the decease of Count Adam Schwarzenberg, had prompted his

son Count John Adolphus to expedite his departure from that place, and to

journey by forced stages to Berlin. He repaired first to Spandow. and had

his father's embalmed remains interred with great pomp in the village

church. After having thus discharged this first filial duty, he proceeded

to Berlin to take possession of the inheritance left him by his father.

The whole inheritance! Not the smallest part of it should be abstracted

from him! In his father's lifetime he had been appointed his coadjutor in

the Order of the Knights of Malta; now, since his father was dead he must

be his successor, must be Grand Master of the Order of St. John. He sent

orders to Sonnenberg, summoning a solemn chapter of the order to hold its

sitting, and to send in the oath of service due him. In his father's

lifetime he had been his associate in the office of Stadtholder; now, his

father being no more, he claimed the stadtholdership in the Mark as his

lawful heritage. And his friends and adherents strengthened the ambitious

young count in these pretentions. As soon as John Adolphus had taken up

his residence in Berlin, Commandant von Kracht placed guards before the

gates of his palace, and every evening demanded a watchword from the young

nobleman.

Commandant von Rochow of Spandow placed himself and his garrison wholly at

the disposal of the "young Stadtholder," and Colonel von Goldacker swore

that he would obey the orders of none other than Count John Adolphus,

Grand Master of the Order of St. John and Stadtholder in the Mark.

Count John Adolphus allowed himself to be rocked in these olden dreams of

power and ambition, believed in their realization, and was firmly

determined to do everything to prove their truth. He accepted the guard,

gave the watchword, and sent orders to Sonnenburg, as if he were already

elected grand master; he required an oath of fealty from all those places

which had been pledged to his father by the Elector George William. He

also issued his mandates in Berlin, and toward magistrates and judiciary

he assumed the attitude of Stadtholder in the Mark. And nobody ventured to

contradict him, no court had the spirit to oppose him, for the young count

stood at the head of a host of powerful and influential friends; the

courts were weak and powerless, and as yet no instructions had been

received from the Elector at Königsberg.

Count John Adolphus husbanded his time well. He sent messengers in all

directions, corresponded with all his father's friends and adherents,

summoning them to rally around him, and to come sword in hand. He held

correspondence also with the father confessor Silvio at Vienna, nay, even

with the Emperor himself. Restlessly active was he from morning till

night, his whole being absorbed in this one effort--to ruin the Elector,

and to win for himself his rank and power! His friends seconded him in

striving to attain this great end. Everywhere they were active, everywhere

they sought to work for him and to procure him adherents. At Spandow and

Berlin the Commandants von Kracht and von Rochow declared themselves ready

to place garrison and fortress entirely under his direction; Colonel von

Goldacker, commandant of Brandenburg, had betaken himself to his post, and

only awaited the count's word to sound the tocsin of war. In Königsberg

the Court Marshal von Waldow was most energetically massing the friends of

Schwarzenberg, and his brother, Sebastian von Waldow, traveled from place

to place, to gain friends and partisans for Count John Adolphus, and to

ask them to come to Berlin, that, in case of danger, the count might be

prepared to make a bold front against his foes. His friends everywhere led

a life of bustle and stir, and all proclaimed themselves ready joyfully to

unsheathe their swords in behalf of the young count, and to do battle for

him if the Elector should refuse to confirm him in all his father's

appointments.

"He will not refuse," said John Adolphus to himself, when he had just

finished reading the report of his agent, Otto von Marwitz, which had only

that morning reached him, "No, the weak, impotent Elector will not dare to

refuse to acknowledge me as my father's successor; for he must be well

aware that I am even now more powerful in the Mark than himself, and

enjoy, moreover, the favor and protection of the Emperor. He will not dare

to attack me. I shall be sustained by him in my position of Stadtholder in

the Mark, and then--from Stadtholder to independent Sovereign requires but

one step, which I mean to take, and--"

The door was violently burst open and Sebastian von Waldow rushed in.

"Count!" he cried, gasping for breath--"Count, we are lost!"

"What is the matter? Say, what is the matter?"

"Conrad von Burgsdorf has captured the letters sent to you and myself,

from Königsberg, by my brother, the marshal, in which was a full statement

of a plan for open war."

"For God's sake, who says so? How do you know that?"

"One of our secret friends, who keeps his eye upon Burgsdorf, came to tell

me, that I might have opportunity of warning you. In the course of a ride

taken by Burgsdorf and his men in the environs of Berlin, they captured

the servant whom my brother had intrusted with dispatches for you and

myself.[48] The dispatches he sent forthwith by a courier to Königsberg,

and the servant was hurried off to the fortress of Küstrin, that he might

be unable to communicate with us."

"That is bad news indeed," said John Adolphus thoughtfully. "It also

explains to me why Burgsdorf and his men have taken up their abode here,

and frequently talk so captiously and insolently when excited by wine. It

is palpable that he has been commissioned to watch and, if need be, arrest

us. We must therefore be on our guard, too, and render him harmless; that

is to say, we must imprison him, so that he can not imprison us."

"If I only knew the contents of the package," murmured Sebastian von

Waldow. "In the last letter which I received from my brother he stated

that he hoped soon to be able to announce with certainty whether the

Elector would nominate you Stadtholder or select some one else. Now this

very letter has been intercepted, and we are left in utter darkness and

uncertainty."

"Gracious sir," proclaimed an advancing lackey, "an officer from

Commandant von Kracht begs to be admitted, as he is charged with a verbal

message from the commandant."

"Admit him," ordered the count, going hastily to meet the officer, who was

just stepping into the room.

"Sir Count, I have bad news for you. Colonel von Kracht has just been

arrested. He commissioned me to convey the tidings to you as he was led

away."

Count John Adolphus grew slightly pale, and exchanged a rapid glance

of intelligence with Sebastian von Waldow. "Who arrested Colonel von

Kracht?" he asked.

"Colonel Conrad von Burgsdorf, most gracious sir. He showed Herr von

Kracht his orders, signed by the Elector himself, and, as he came with a

strong posse, the colonel could not resist, but was obliged to submit."

"It is well; I thank you," said John Adolphus quietly, and the officer

took his leave. "Well, Sebastian," he said, turning to his confidant,

"you were right, the captured papers must have been of dangerous import,

for we already see the results. Our enemies are active, and I like that,

for thereby the _dénouement_ will be hastened and our victory brought

nearer. For conquer we will!"

"Conquer or die!" sighed Sebastian von Waldow.

Again was the door thrown open violently, and the count's high steward

hurried in, trembling and pale as a sheet. "Your grace, Colonel von

Burgsdorf, Colonel von Burgsdorf," stammered he.

"What of him?" inquired the count hastily. "Speak, answer me, Wallenrodt,

what of Colonel von Burgsdorf?"

"Nothing further than that he ordered your high steward to conduct him

hither and announce him to you," said a rough, mocking voice behind the

count.

It was Conrad von Burgsdorf who thus spoke. He had just entered the

apartment, and strode forward without apology or more formal salutation.

"Count John Adolphus von Schwarzenberg," continued Burgsdorf, approaching

close to the count, "I have come to do what should have been done long

before, to seal the papers of the late Stadtholder in the Mark, and to

take them with me."

"Very fine," returned the count contemptuously. "Will you have the

goodness to tell me whether my revered father imparted any such

instructions to you before his death, and if so, show me the written

order, for otherwise I would not be inclined to give you credence."

"Have received no orders from the deceased count," replied Burgsdorf,

shrugging his shoulders. "Would have received no orders from him, for

there is only one under whom I serve, and that one is my master, the

Elector Frederick William. He ordered me to affix his signet to all the

papers left by Count Adam Schwarzenberg, and I have therefore come to obey

these orders."

"Where is the written order?"

"Have no written order, but obtained a verbal one just a half hour ago."

"Ah, it pleases you to jest," cried Count Adolphus scornfully. "You have

come from Königsberg here in a half hour? If you will condescend to

receive no commands save from the Elector, then you must have spoken with

him, and, as far as I know, the Elector is at Königsberg."

"Your knowledge goes not far, my pretty sir," said Burgsdorf

contemptuously. "You are in everything a very unadvised and ignorant young

gentleman. The Elector is indeed at Königsberg, but, nevertheless, he has

made known his will to me through the newly appointed Stadtholder in the

Mark, who arrived here, _incognito_, early this morning."

"Stadtholder in the Mark!" cried Count John Adolphus defiantly. "I know no

one who can lay claim to that title but myself alone!"

"But I know some one who has not merely the title but the office itself,

and that person is the Margrave Ernest von Jägerndorf. Herr von Metzdorf,

come in!"

In answer to Burgsdorf's loud call a young officer advanced through the

door leading from the adjacent room, which had been left ajar, and stood

on the threshold awaiting further orders.

"Hand Count Adolphus von Schwarzenberg the Stadtholder's printed

manifesto," said Burgsdorf. Lieutenant von Metzdorf drew near the count,

extending toward him a huge sheet of paper. "Read, my dear little count!"

cried Burgsdorf. "Only read! Yes, yes, it contains very interesting

intelligence. Margrave Ernest informs the citizens of Berlin and Cologne

that he has been nominated by our gracious Elector Stadtholder in the

Mark, and has entered upon the duties of his new office. He further

informs the good folks of Berlin, that his Electoral Grace has been

pleased to appoint Conrad von Burgsdorf superintendent of all the

fortresses within the Electorate and Mark of Brandenburg. Colonel Conrad

von Burgsdorf am I, and in my province as superintendent of all the

fortresses I shall have all those arrested who refuse to swear allegiance

to their Sovereign and Elector. Colonel von Kracht has experienced this,

and his confederates shall soon enough acquire like knowledge. Count von

Schwarzenberg, will you have the goodness to let me proceed to seal the

papers, or must I use force by virtue of my right and authority?"

"You are the stronger," replied the count, shrugging his shoulders, "or,

rather, brute force is on your side, and against this 'twere irrational to

contend. Do what I can not hinder. Seal up my father's papers. I should

think, however, that my own papers would be exempt from this procedure,

and I hope the contents of my own desk will be respected." As he spoke he

cast a furtive glance upon his steward von Wallenrodt, who, nodding almost

imperceptibly, slowly retreated to the door.

"I shall seal indiscriminately all the papers and desks found in the

palace," exclaimed Colonel von Burgsdorf. "This whole palace, with all it

contains, belonged to Count Adam Schwarzenberg, and my orders are to seal

and remove all papers left by that gentleman. You see that I can not and

will not make distinctions as to what is yours and what your deceased

father's."

"I believe, indeed, that the art of reading is for you difficult, nay

almost impossible, Colonel von Burgsdorf!"

"You believe so? You are mistaken, my young sir. I can even read what is

written upon men's faces, and read upon your brow that you are not merely

puffed up with self-importance, but that you are likewise forging wicked

and dangerous plans, and have been led away by your ambition to desire

things unsuitable for you. Come now, count, and accompany me into your

father's cabinet."

"No!" cried the count--"no, I will do no such thing! It shall not be said

that I voluntarily submitted to treason and brutal violence!"

"Well, my little count," cried Burgsdorf, laughing, "if you will not act

as guide of your own accord, you must be forced to do so _nolens volens_.

You need not show us the way, for we will merely go from chamber to

chamber and affix our seal to all the papers we can find. But the law

requires your presence, and your presence we shall have. Lieutenant von

Metzdorf and Lieutenant von Frohberg, each of you give an arm to Count von

Schwarzenberg. Sustain and support him well, for the young gentleman feels

a little unwell and can not go alone."

The two officers approached the count, who looked at them with threatening

mien. "Do not dare to touch me!" he cried angrily. "I will not follow you!

I will not go!"

"You will not go, will you not? Not even when my officers offer you their

arms?"

"I will not go, but I shall complain to the Emperor of the violence done

me, and he will procure me satisfaction."

"Well, we shall bide our time," said Burgsdorf placidly. "For the present

it only concerns us to obtain your honored companionship. Since, however,

you declare that you can not go afoot, I shall carry you!"

And before the young count could prevent it, Burgsdorf had seized him in

his gigantic arms and lifted him up.

"Forward now, gentlemen," he said, stepping briskly a few paces in

advance, bearing the count as lightly and easily in his arms as if he had

been an infant.

"Let me descend from the wine cask, Colonel von Burgsdorf," said Count

Adolphus, smilingly and composedly. "I have attained my end. I only wanted

to defer the sealing for a few minutes. Having succeeded in effecting

this, I shall no longer oppose any obstacle to your progress."

"So much the better," cried Burgsdorf, setting him on the ground. "For,

even if you were as light as a feather, I would rather have free use of my

arms and hands; and, besides, do not like such close contact with any

birds of your plumage. Now, Sir Imperial Counselor, let us to work and

commence the process of sealing."

"Well and good," said Count John Adolphus, "only permit me to ask one

question. To what end this sealing, and when will the signet be removed? I

am my father's sole heir; already I have had the will opened and read in

the presence of competent witnesses, and in accordance with my father's

expressed desire entered into possession of the whole inheritance. The

affixing of the seal appears to me, therefore, to be superfluous. If done

at all, it should have been attended to before the opening of the will."

"It has been delayed, alas!" replied Conrad von Burgsdorf, "and it has

resulted from the fact that since the Stadtholder's death there has been

nobody to issue orders or defend the right. But now, as we have once more

a Stadtholder in the Mark, all will be different, and those who put

themselves in opposition may be on their guard, for we seal not merely

papers, but men. As regards your question, count, the sealing affects your

inheritance only in so far as you have presumed to include among your

estates several districts and domains pertaining to the Elector, and have

been in indecent haste to take possession of them."

"These domains were given in pledge to my father, and never redeemed."

"That remains to be decided, and, for the purpose of setting this as well

as many other matters, the Elector has ordained that a judicial court

shall sit. He himself named the gentlemen who were to constitute this

board of investigation, which will enter upon its duties early to-morrow

morning, and begin by removing the seal from the papers which I am to make

myself master of to-day. The chairman of this committee is the president

of the privy council, von Götze."

"I know of no President von Götze."

"Yes, yes, your father deprived Herr von Götze of his office because he

would not dance to the Stadtholder's piping, and was not his devoted

servant to say yes to everything. But for that very reason our young

Elector has installed him again in his office, and given orders, moreover,

that he be the president of the committee of investigation. And now, as I

have answered all your questions with praiseworthy patience and to my own

satisfaction, let us at last proceed to sealing, and make a beginning in

this very room. Shut the doors, Lieutenant von Metzdorf, and allow no one

to go out who was here at our entrance."

"Colonel," replied the lieutenant, "the high steward von Wallenrodt left

the room a while ago, but, as you had given no orders to that effect, I

could not detain him. He went out just when you took the count up in your

arms."

"Humph! That is the reason why the count wanted to divert my attention for

some minutes, that his steward might have time to execute his secret

commission!" cried the colonel stamping his foot passionately. "We ought

to have reflected that we had sly foxes to deal with, and guarded every

outlet beforehand. Lieutenant von Metzdorf, place a man at every door and

let no one out. Lieutenant von Frohberg, take with you four soldiers, and

search the whole palace; if you find von Wallenrodt, arrest and search

him."

"Colonel, that is going too far!" cried Count John Adolphus, pale with

rage and excitement. "You have no right to arrest and search my servant. I

interpose my protest, and will bring you to account before his Majesty the

Emperor."

"I shall take care of that," replied the colonel composedly. "If I have

done wrong, let the committee of investigation call me to account. The

Emperor in Vienna has nothing to do with me, and has no right to meddle in

the administration of justice among us."

"We shall see about that!" cried the count, with a threatening gesture.

"Yes, we shall see! But first we must see where the papers are, which we

are to seal and carry off. Open that table drawer, count, and let us see

what it contains."

Count Adolphus had to submit to having every desk and table searched, and

wherever papers were found, the great seal of the Electoral privy council

was affixed, and they were then removed. He had also to submit to having

the whole palace ransacked from garret to cellar in search of the steward

von Wallenrodt. The sealing he could not prevent, but he had the

satisfaction of seeing the soldiers fail in discovering the hiding place

of his steward after making the strictest possible search, as well as of

witnessing Colonel Burgsdorf's disappointment on opening Count Adolphus's

own writing desk to find it perfectly empty.

"I said so," growled Burgsdorf. "We forgot that we were dealing with sly

foxes, and barred the doors too late. Count John Adolphus von

Schwarzenberg, the sealing is over. Now comes the performance of my second

duty. I have to announce to you on the part of Margrave Ernest, Stadtholder

in the Mark, that you are under arrest in your own house until further

notice, and are on no account whatever to be allowed to leave the palace.

Here is the warrant, that you may not say I am acting without orders."

He drew forth a paper, unfolded it, and handed it to the count, who

rapidly glanced over it.

"I see," said he, with proud composure, "you are acting under authority,

and are merely your master's faithful beadle. May I keep this warrant?"

"Why so?"

"To hand it to the Emperor, and show him with what disrespect they have

dared to act against his counselor and chamberlain."

"Keep the bill of indictment," said Burgsdorf quietly. "I shall be much

surprised if you shortly find yourself in a condition to present it to the

Emperor in person. Certainly not just now, for you are under arrest, and

can not have control of your own movements. You will therefore have the

gratification of having a guard at your door, although you are not the

Stadtholder. Farewell, Count John Adolphus!"

Bowing to the young count, who with a scornful laugh turned his back upon

him, he left the apartment, followed by his officers.

"Metzdorf," he said outside to the young officer in the antechamber, "to

you I intrust the guarding of the palace. I know you are incorruptible,

and will not allow the young gentleman to escape. Go round the palace on

the outside, and before each door station two soldiers, who are to leave

their posts neither by day or night. Relieve them every four hours. The

Stadtholder, alas! did not order us to guard the inner doors of the house,

so we must only be watchful and circumspect outside. I commit the guarding

to you, and if he escapes, the responsibility rests upon yourself."

"Unless he is a magician who can vanish through the air, he shall not

escape me, colonel," said the young officer, smiling. "I will stake my

head upon his not going by ordinary means through the doors."

"Very well, lieutenant; but hark! Place two more sentinels at the garden

railing opposite the palace. They are to watch the windows night and day,

sounding an alarm as soon as they observe anything suspicious. Come now.

Reconnoiter the outer doors and post the sentinels. I am going to report

to the Stadtholder."

Colonel Burgsdorf left the count's palace, and repaired to the Electoral

castle, where the Margrave Ernest von Jägerndorf had taken up his

residence.

Count John Adolphus had stood listening at the door, and heard every word

spoken by Burgsdorf to his lieutenant, and then listened to his heavy,

retreating footstep. Now he heard the slamming of the front door, and

rushing to the window, saw Burgsdorf mount his horse and ride off,

followed by his companions and a wagon loaded with the papers which had

been seized.

"Waldow!" cried the count, springing back from the window, "he has gone,

and we have, God be thanked! no guard inside the house. We are unobserved."

"What good will that do us, Sir Count," sighed Waldow. "We can not leave

the house, and your papers have been seized."

"Not my papers, Waldow! No, God be praised! not my papers!" exulted the

count. "Did you not see that my writing desk was empty?"

"And what does that signify?"

"It signifies that my trusty steward von Wallenrodt understood my hint,

and, while I detained Burgsdorf, abstracted and concealed my papers."

"Think you so?" asked Waldow, shrugging his shoulders. "It seems to me

more likely that the steward has imitated the rats, who always forsake a

sinking ship, and has gone off. The palace has been ransacked and von

Wallenrodt was nowhere to be found. He has probably gone to the new

Stadtholder, thinking to benefit himself by betraying you."

"You slander my faithful servant," said the count. "I know him better, and

am confident that he will not betray me. Come, Waldow, accompany me to my

father's cabinet.

"I will now show you that you have judged my steward falsely," he

continued, when they had reached the cabinet.

"This apartment conceals a mystery, known only to my father, myself, and

Wallenrodt. Now, you shall become acquainted with it, and learn at the

same time that there is still good faith in the world."

He crossed the spacious apartment to the large mirror, which, reaching

down to the floor, filled up the whole space between the windows. He

pressed an ornament of the frame, and the mirror flew back, having become

a door, which opened and revealed a niche concealed in the wall. From this

niche stepped forth the steward, with a great roll of papers in his hand.

"Most gracious sir," he said quietly, handing the roll to the count, "here

are the papers of your writing desk."

"Thank you, my faithful Wallenrodt!" cried Adolphus Schwarzenberg,

offering him his hand. "I knew that I could count upon you, and, when the

writing desk was found empty, knew that you had understood my glance. But

now, before we advise as to what is further to be done, let me examine

these papers, for I do not exactly know whether they contain all that I

would wish to conceal from Burgsdorf and my other enemies. Step into that

window recess, friends, and let me look over these papers."

The two gentlemen retired into the deep window niche, and conversed

together in whispers, while Count Adolphus rummaged over the papers with

quick and nervous fingers. Ever quicker, ever more nervous became the

movements of his hand, ever darker grew his brow, ever more anxious his

countenance. As he laid aside the last sheet a sudden pallor overspread

his face, and for a moment he leaned back in the fauteuil, quite faint and

exhausted.

"Dearest sir!" cried the steward, hurrying toward him, "are not the papers

all in order?"

"It is just as I feared," said the count, sighing. "My whole

correspondence with my father, during my last sojourn at Regensburg,

besides copies of my letters to the Emperor and Marwitz, were in the

drawer of my father's writing table, and have been carried off with the

rest."

"And did these letters compromise you, count?" asked Herr von Waldow,

drawing nearer to him.

"With these letters in his hand, President von Götze, the chairman of the

committee of investigation, can arraign me as guilty of high treason and

condemn me to death."

A long pause ensued. With gloomy countenances all three cast their eyes

upon the ground. Then the steward lifted up his head, with an expression

of firm resolve.

"You must flee, gracious sir," he cried earnestly.

"Flee?" repeated the count, shrugging his shoulders. "Ah, you have not

heard of what further happened after you withdrew to your place of

concealment!"

"The whole palace is surrounded by soldiers," completed Herr von Waldow.

"At each door stand two sentinels, and even at the park gate two guards

are stationed."

"You see plainly, Wallenrodt, that flight is impossible," said the count.

The steward smiled. "Through doors and windows you can not escape, in

truth. There is a third way, however."

"What sort of way, Wallenrodt?"

"The secret passage, count."

"I know of no secret passage."

"But I do, count. Your late revered father had this secret passage built

at the time the cities revolted and the Swedes were threatening Berlin. He

had fifty workmen brought from Vienna, who were kept concealed in the

palace, and worked every night upon this subterranean passage, and as soon

as it was completed he had the men sent back to Austria. It is not to be

supposed that you should know anything of this, count, for it happened at

least fifteen years ago, when you were but a lad. While the work lasted

the count resided at Spandow, taking all his household with him, that no

one might know anything about the secret passage. Only the old castellan

and I remained behind, to overlook the work. We were the only two besides

the Stadtholder who knew the secret. You must flee through the

subterranean passage, gracious sir."

"Whither does the secret passage lead?" asked the count.

"Winding along underground, it has its outlet in the little pavilion in

the center of the park. The key to the outer door hangs within the

passage, as does also the key to the garden gate. All is in good order,

for, fearing that the count's affairs might take a bad turn, I examined

the passage through its whole extent until I arrived at the pavilion. Your

grace can escape in that way unperceived."

"And you, my faithful friends, will accompany me," said the count,

extending his hands to the two gentlemen. "You were right just now,

Waldow, when you said we should conquer or die. It seems now as if we must

be ruined. Our enemies have gone to work with more zeal and determination

than ourselves. While we pondered, they acted; while we tarried, they

strode energetically forward. The young Elector has made good use of his

time, and like a spider has caught us in the net with which he had lightly

and secretly encircled us. All my foes, all the sworn adversaries of my

father, has he called out to battle against us. Envy, hatred, malice, are

the regiments which the young lord musters into the field, and by means of

these he has for the moment conquered us. But only for the moment. A day

of reckoning will come to the haughty young sir. He thinks himself free

and independent, but he shall learn that there is one higher than he to

whom he must bow, to whom he owes obedience. Yes, the Emperor Ferdinand

will avenge me upon this arrogant young man. He will cause his proud neck

to bend, and force his vassal to give me satisfaction, and to reinstate me

in all my offices and dignities, which he would unjustly withhold from me.

I shall go to the Emperor at Vienna, and--Ha, what a thought!" he

exclaimed, interrupting himself. Rushing across to his writing table,

whose empty drawers were stretched wide open, he tore one out and thrust

his arm into the vacant space.

"The secret compartment," he cried triumphantly. "Old Burgsdorf's keen

scent failed him this time. Here it is, safe and inviolate. Here!"

When he drew forth his hand it contained a small box, which he opened by

touching a spring. The lid flew open; the box contained nothing but a

dainty, perfumed note. Still the count esteemed it a precious possession.

He took the paper and waved it exultingly above his head.

"This is my salvation!" he cried. "With this paper in my hand I am armed

against all the villainy and malice of the Elector. Oh, my dear, noble

father, I must thank you for this security, thank you that I shall come

forth victor from this contest with my enemy. It was you who pointed out

to me the significance of this paper, who gave me the wise counsel to

preserve it for future use. Thank you, oh, my father! At this hour this

paper is the most precious inheritance which you have left me. I shall use

it in accordance with your views, and as actuated by your spirit.

"Now, my friends," he continued, "now am I ready for flight. Let us

consider what is to be done."

"Gracious sir, I have already considered," replied Wallenrodt warmly, "and

I hope you will approve my plan. You can not make use of the subterranean

passage by day, for, as I said before, it has its outlet in the center of

the park, and if you pass through the lower garden gate in safety, you

have still to go through the suburbs of Cologne. Every one would recognize

you, and who knows whether Colonel von Burgsdorf may not have placed

sentinels there too? You must, therefore, make your escape by night. I, on

the contrary, dressed as a simple burgher, will take advantage of the

subterranean passage now, and, watching my opportunity, when the street is

quiet will leave the park and go away."

"Where are you going, Wallenrodt?"

"To Spandow, gracious sir, to Colonel von Rochow. I want to inform him of

the course events have taken--to tell him that you are forced to leave

Berlin. When nightfall comes your grace will be pleased to go through the

subterranean passage in company with Herr von Waldow, emerge into the

park, and then proceed up the street. Without especial haste, for any

appearance of haste might excite remark, you will go to the Willow-bank

Gate. Outside I will await you with two saddled horses. These you will

mount, and ride at full gallop to Spandow, where Herr von Rochow will be

ready to receive your grace. From that place the count can depart when so

disposed."

"Your plan is good and feasible," said the count. "I accept it. Hasten,

therefore, good friend, hasten to Colonel von Rochow with tidings of what

has befallen us here. Tell him that the time for hesitancy and delay has

passed, that the hour of action has come. He has hitherto manfully refused

to give in his oath to the Elector, and therefore the fortress of Spandow

belongs to the Emperor, the sworn lord of its commandant, rather than to

the Elector of Brandenburg. The walls of the Imperial fort will afford us

protection and security, and from that point we can begin our contest with

the enemy, who has so treacherously attacked us. Be off, my Wallenrodt, be

off, and may we meet to-night in freedom and joy!"

"Only forget not to arm yourself, gracious sir, and take care that no one

watches and pursues you."

"I shall precede the count with two loaded pistols," cried Herr von

Waldow. "I will shoot down whoever shall dare to oppose him, and open a

free path for him to the Willow-bank Gate, where you will be waiting for

us, Wallenrodt."

"We will both go armed and defend ourselves bravely," said Count Adolphus

Schwarzenberg. "We would rather die than fall into the hands of our

enemies. Go now, Wallenrodt, for you have verily a long way before you.

The road to Spandow is long."

"In three hours I shall be there, honored sir. We shall then have ample

time to make our preparations for defense, and meet you here at twilight

with horses. Come now, gentlemen, that I may show you the approach to the

subterranean passage. It is in the little corridor next your late father's

cabinet."

VIII.--THE FLIGHT.

How dreary and desolate was the day which Count Adolphus now passed in the

palace--how the hours lengthened into days, and the minutes into hours!

How glad were they when twilight at last drew near, what sighs of relief

they breathed when night at last set in!

A dark, silent night. The sky was obscured by clouds, not a star was to be

seen. A night well fitted for enveloping fugitives in her friendly mantle,

and concealing them beneath her gloomy shades. Away now, away! Night is

here! Freedom beckons! The spacious palace was to-day nothing but a close,

oppressive prison. Nothing did Count Adolphus hear but the walking to and

fro of the sentinels and the corporal's call to relieve guard. Nothing did

he see, when he went to the window, but soldiers slowly pacing their round

before the park railing.

Away from this prison, whose splendor and luxury seemed like sheer

mockery, away from this house teeming with bitter memories of past

grandeur and glory!

Night was here, the night of deliverance. Away, away!

They wrapped their cloaks about them, drew their hats low over their

foreheads, and entered the subterranean passage. Waldow lead the way, a

burning taper in one hand, a pistol in the other. Count Adolphus

Schwarzenberg followed him, a pistol in either hand, firmly determined to

shoot down whoever might dare to oppose his progress.

The passage was traversed, and safely the two emerged into the open air in

the park pavilion. Now forward quickly, down the dark alley to the lower

garden gate. The key was in his pocket, there was nothing to obstruct

their flight.

One moment they paused within the half-opened gateway and listened.

Nothing moved in the street without. All life seemed already extinct, all

the inhabitants of the wretched houses had retired to rest. Not a light

glimmered through the windows. All was hushed and still. They pushed open

the gate and stepped out upon the street. They looked up and down; nowhere

did they see a sign of movement, nowhere a human form, nor anywhere hear a

rustling sound. Forward now, forward up the street, around the corner of

the park, across the cathedral square.

The night was quite dark, and the two fugitives looked ever ahead, not

once behind them. They did not see that another shadow followed their

black shadows, nor that a second shadow glided across the cathedral square

to the Electoral castle.

To that castle, too, were Count Schwarzenberg's eyes directed. There it

loomed up, veiled in mystery and gloom, its dim outlines barely

distinguishable from the mass of overhanging clouds in the background. In

the lower story, where was situated the guardroom, burned a bright light,

shining like a clear, yellow star, and irradiating the darkness of the

night.

Count Adolphus saw it, and also saw the light suddenly eclipsed by a

shadow; then flame forth again. He saw the shadow, but did not suspect

that it bore any relationship to his person or movements. He only

continued to look toward the castle, and to think of the past, taking

farewell of his memories, farewell of the dreams of his youth! He thought

of the insult put upon him that dreadful night when he had been mocked and

deceived by her whom he loved, and he vowed vengeance for the tortures

endured by him that night!

"Forward, Waldow, forward!" He took his friend's arm, and they pressed on.

The shadow behind them advanced when they advanced and stopped when they

stood still. Through the pleasure garden the pair proceeded with hurried

steps, through the gate at the castle moat they entered upon the

Willow-bank suburb, then down the deserted little streets of wretched

huts. They reached the great Willow-bank meadow without the walls, passing

through a gate not far from the bridge over the Spree.

"Wallenrodt, are you here?" whispered Schwarzenberg.

"Yes, count, I am here."

The tramp of horse's hoofs, the voices of men speaking in whispers.

"Colonel von Rochow expects your grace. The whole fortress is at your

service. He will defend you to the last man, and would rather blow the

whole fortress into the air than surrender you to the enemy."

"Yes, better be blown up by gunpowder, than fall into an enemy's hands!"

cries the count, vaulting with glad heart into the saddle.

"Are you ready, my friends?"

"Yes, we are ready."

The count gave the word of command, "Forward!" and grasped tighter his

horse's reins.

"Halt! halt!" called a loud voice, and the shadow which had crept behind

them now changed into the form of a tall and powerful man, who sprang

through the gate and seized the count's horse by the bridle.

"Back!" shouted Adolphus Schwarzenberg furiously.

"Halt! halt!" cried the other. "You shall not escape. In the name of

Colonel von Burgsdorf I arrest you, Count John Adolphus von

Schwarzenberg."

"Who are you, poor man, who are you who dares to oppose me?"

"I am the police master Brandt. I arrest you in the name of the Stadtholder

in the Mark!"

"Wretched traitor! You swore fidelity to my father, and have now become

the tool of his enemies. Hands off! It will cost you your life! Back!"

"No, I will not leave you, I arrest you. You must stay here!"

"Let us make an end of this, count," shouted von Waldow "The night is so

pitch-dark that we can not distinguish friend from foe, else I would have

shot him long ago."

"For the last time, hands off my horse, or I shall shoot you."

"For the last time. Yield peaceably, or I shall shoot you. Living or dead

I must keep you, I have--"

A flash, the report of a pistol, a death groan interrupted the police

master's words. The three horsemen bounded forward into the night. Forward

at breakneck speed, but for the sand, that dreadful sand. This is the

Rehberg, they know it by the sand in which the horses sink, from which

they extricate themselves only to sink again. Yet what matters it if they

do make rather slow progress? They will surely reach Spandow before

daybreak, and Colonel von Burgsdorf will be cheated out of his precious

prisoners.

What is that? What strange sound does the night wind bear to the three

riders? Simultaneously all three turn in their saddles and listen.

They hear it quite plainly. It is the noise made by trotting horses. It

comes on--it comes nearer.

"Wallenrodt, Waldow! We are pursued!"

"Yes, count, but we have the Rehberg almost behind us, and they must go

through it. We have a good start. They will not overtake us."

"Forward, my friends, forward!"

They put spurs to their horses, they press their knees into their flanks,

and the animals struggle faster through the sand. In spite of every

hindrance they have now reached firmer ground and bound bravely forward.

But the noise behind them has not ceased, not even become more remote.

They must have good steeds, those pursuers, for they seem to come nearer

and nearer.

"Friends, better die than fall into the hands of the enemy!" shouts the

count. "I tell you the very moment Burgsdorf touches me I shall shoot

myself. Greet my friends for me. Bid them farewell forever!"

"You will not shoot yourself, count, for the enemy will not overtake us.

Forward! Put spur to your horses. Heigh! Huzza! Forward!"

They rush through the darkness!