"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 Koenigsberg 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 Koenigsberg 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 Koenigsberg.

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 Koenigsberg 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 Koenigsberg, 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 Koenigsberg, and the servant was hurried off to the fortress of Kuestrin, 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 denouement 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 Koenigsberg 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 Koenigsberg."

"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 Koenigsberg, 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 Jaegerndorf. 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 Goetze."

"I know of no President von Goetze."

"Yes, yes, your father deprived Herr von Goetze 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 Jaegerndorf 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 Goetze, 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!

Clouds dark and threatening course swiftly through the sky, horsemen dark and threatening course swiftly over the earth.

"Waldow! they come nearer! But we have still the start of them!"

"Only see, count! That dark mass there against the sky. That is our goal. Just one quarter of an hour and we shall be safe in Spandow."

"One quarter of an hour! An eternity! Heigh! Huzza! On! on!"

"Halt!" is heard behind them. "Halt! in the name of the Elector, in the name of the law! Halt! halt!"

"That is Burgsdorf's voice!" cries Count Schwarzenberg, and spurs his horse with such violence that it rears and then shoots forward, swift as an arrow from a bow. But the pursuers, too, dash forward, as if borne upon the wings of the wind, and the distance between them constantly grows less. Already they hear the horses pant; ever clearer, ever more distinct become the passionate outcries of Colonel Burgsdorf.

He swears, he threatens, he rages! He orders the fugitives to halt, and swears to shoot them if they do not.

What care they for threats or orders? Forward! forward! Behind them sounds a shot—a second, then a third! The balls whistle past their ears, and they laugh aloud, to prove to the enemy that they are still alive.

Before them flash lights, like golden stars, like bonfires of rejoicing.

"Count, those are the lights of Spandow! Just see those torches there! The commandant is waiting for you at the entrance to the fort with his torchbearers."

"On! on!" shout the three, and they race onward at lightning speed. And at lightning speed the pursuers follow. Nearer they come, ever nearer.

"I have them! I have caught them!" exults Burgsdorf, springing forward and stretching out his hands toward the fugitives, for it seems to him as if he can indeed lay his hand upon them. "Halt! halt! in the name of the Elector!"

"Forward! forward! What care we for the Elector? What care we for Burgsdorf? Forward!"

The lights increase in size and brilliancy. Now they distinguish torches and the figures of men.

"Are you there, count?" calls down Colonel von Rochow from the wall.

"It is I, colonel!"

The gate is open, they gallop in!

Over the wooden bridge gallop the pursuers after them. Now they are at the gate. But the gate slams to with thundering sound. The pursuers are left without.

"Undo the bolts, Colonel von Rochow! I command you, undo the bolts!"

"Who is it that dares to command me?" calls down Colonel von Rochow from the fortification walls.

"I command you! I, the commandant in chief of all the fortresses in the Mark!"

"I know no commandant in chief, and trouble myself about no such person. I am commandant of Spandow, and have sworn to serve the Emperor, and him alone."

"Colonel von Rochow, in the name of the Elector and in the name of the Stadtholder in the Mark, I command you for the last time to open the gate!"

"The Elector is not my master to command me, and as to the Stadtholder in the Mark, here he is at my side. Only Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg do I recognize as such, and he forbids my opening the gate. Go back quietly to Berlin, colonel, for the night is cold, and your ride will warm you."

"And I must pocket this insult," muttered old Burgsdorf, gnashing his teeth. "I can do nothing but turn around and go back with shame!" Almost tearfully he gave his men the order to face about and return to Berlin.

In the castle within, Count John Adolphus cordially offered his hand to Commandant von Rochow.

"Colonel, you have saved my life by furnishing me a refuge. I would have shot myself if Burgsdorf had overtaken me. I shall commend you to the Emperor's Majesty for this friendly service."



IX.—THE LETTER.

"Well, here you are at last," exclaimed Elector Frederick William, holding out his hand to Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun. "You have at last returned from your difficult journey."

"Yes, gracious sir, you may well call it a difficult journey. Four long months of endless debate, wrangling, and dispute with those arrogant Swedish lords, who were ever ready to take but never to give. Such was my experience day by day for four long months."

"Yes, you are right," said the Elector thoughtfully. "Four months have indeed elapsed since you set out upon your journey and I undertook the duties of ruler. My God! it seems to me as if many years had rolled by since then, and as if I had become an old, old man! I do not believe I have laughed once during these four months, or enjoyed one quarter of an hour of pleasure or relaxation. Discord and discussion everywhere with Emperor and empire, with the States, with Poland, Juliers and Cleves. They are all my foes, and not one single hand is held out to me in friendship. I have felt at times right lonely, Leuchtmar, and sorely sighed for you. It could not be, though, and I have learned already to submit to necessity. Necessity alone is the despotic mistress of all princes, and we nothing but her humble vassals. It is a humiliating thought, but nevertheless true. I must learn to endure mortifications, and to consider them but the price which I pay for my future."

"It grieves me to perceive that your highness is somewhat downcast and discouraged," sighed Leuchtmar, looking sadly at the Elector's pale, sober countenance, upon which the last four months had indeed left the imprint of years.

"Downcast? Yes," cried Frederick William; "for my affairs progress but slowly, and to gain anything I am compelled on all sides to make unpleasant concessions and to submit to irksome restraints. But discouraged—no, Leuchtmar, I am not discouraged, and by God's help never shall be! I know my purpose, which I shall pursue with immovable steadfastness, and, although the results of these first four months of government are barely discernible, I comfort myself that in as many years I shall have accomplished much. It is strange, Leuchtmar, that you have returned to-day, the very day which brings home my Polish ambassador with the tidings that the King of Poland is ready solemnly to invest me with the dukedom of Prussia, thanks to our money and our fair speeches. This very day I also expect decisive news from Colonel von Burgsdorf at Berlin. On the self-same day I sent you forth. You were like doves sent from a storm-tossed ark to seek for land. Almost at the same time you return to the ark, but I fear that none of you brings with him an olive branch."

"Yet, most noble sir, I do bring you a small olive leaf," replied Leuchtmar, with a gentle smile. "I come to announce to your grace that I have at last succeeded, after a four months' contest, in wringing from the Swedish lords a few concessions, and concluding an armistice, which is to be binding for two years."

"A two years' cessation of hostilities is equivalent to ten years of refreshment, of reinvigoration!" cried the Elector with radiant looks. "Tell me, Leuchtmar, what concessions did these hard-headed Swedes make at the last moment?"

"Your highness, they have pledged themselves not to allow their soldiery to enter the Mark, unless unavoidably compelled to march through on their way elsewhere, and that then they shall be quartered and fed only under the direction of an Electoral commissary; and that, moreover, separate agreements shall be entered into with regard to the maintenance of the Swedish garrisons of forts in Pomerania and the Mark." [49]

"Yes," murmured the Elector, with dejected mien, "so low are we reduced that if they even acknowledge our natural rights, it strikes us in the light of a concession, a grant, and we must esteem ourselves happy in having obtained it! Ah! Leuchtmar, when will the time come when I can take my revenge for these humiliations, the time when they will bow to me, and when it will be for me to concede and grant favors? Hush, ambitious heart, be soft and still! Go on, tell me what further settlements you concluded with the Swedes."

"Gracious sir, I have no other concessions to mention, except that something has been done for the protection of our mutual traffic by sea and land. But that is as much to the advantage of the Swedes as of ourselves. The demands of the Swedes are truly far greater than their concessions!"

"What do they demand?"

"They demand in advance that they be left in undisturbed possession of the fortresses they are now masters of."

"I have not the power to take them by force of arms!" cried the Elector, shrugging his shoulders. "Let them keep what I can not force from them! What else?"

"They demand, besides, that the Werben fortress be delivered up to them."

"I will not deliver it up to them!" cried the Elector; "but I will have it destroyed, that it be not seized by the Imperialists. What else?"

"The Swedes further desire that the Kuestrin Pass be closed to imperial troops."

"To that I willingly consent, for it is in accordance with my own interests," said Frederick William, smiling. "By Kuestrin is the road to Stettin, and it is important for us, too, that this way be closed to the Imperialists. Methinks a time will come when it shall be closed to the Swedes as well, and once closed, I shall not open it again. What else?"

"The Swedes crave the privilege of having a resident at Kuestrin, who shall attend to carrying out this article."

"That I shall never consent to!" cried the Elector passionately. "No, that can not be, for such a permission would involve degradation, and the concessions which I am willing to make for the welfare of my torn and bleeding land need not go to the extent of degradation. I must have an armistice, that my subjects may recover from the effects of these bloody, trying times, and gather strength for renewed existence. I must have an armistice, in order to gain time for the re-establishment of law and order. But there need be no armistice tending to dishonor me, and place me under Swedish surveillance in the midst of my own land. No, no Swedish spy, no resident at Kuestrin—that is the condition of my agreeing to the armistice. All else I acquiesce in."

"And I hope to prevail upon the Swedish lords to recede from this claim yet," said Leuchtmar. "Rest is very essential to them also just at this time, for they have enough to do to contend with the Imperialists, and the Danes are threatening them with war. They will not desire to be embroiled with Brandenburg at the same time. I will guarantee the conclusion of the armistice, and, if it meets your highness's approbation, will travel again to Sweden to effect this alteration and then bring the articles to your highness for your signature."

"So be it, dear Leuchtmar. Return to Stockholm. Strike the iron while it is hot. Much I hope from this armistice. It will make the lords of Warsaw, Regensburg, and Vienna more pliant and yielding, for it will show them that the Elector of Brandenburg is no longer drifting helplessly about in a leaky boat, but that he has succeeded at least in stopping one hole and keeping himself above water! And now, friend Leuchtmar, how fared you in your secret mission? Did you hand my letter to the young Queen?"

"Yes, your highness; I even had the opportunity of delivering it to her in a private audience without witnesses."

"And did she accept it in a kind and friendly manner?"

"Gracious sir," replied Leuchtmar, smiling, "a queen of fourteen years of age is very sensitive with regard to her dignity, and takes it very ill if she is not treated with due reverence and extreme devotion."

"Was my missive wanting in these respects?" asked Frederick William.

"I beg your highness's pardon, but the young Queen seemed to be rather of this opinion. She was visibly delighted when I handed her your letter, and especially delighted that she received it secretly, without witnesses, and not in the presence of Chancellor Oxenstiern, whose guardianship seems to be very irksome and unpleasant to her. The young Queen blushed, sir, when she took your letter, and I must confess that at this moment she looked pretty and graceful enough to be the wife of my gracious master. But her countenance soon became clouded, as she read your communication, whose contents seemed to afford her little satisfaction."

"But she answered my letter, did she not, and you bring me her reply?"

"Oh, yes, most gracious sir, she answered it, and I have with me Queen Christina's reply. But I must beforehand make your grace an apology for this answer."

"Well, let me see it, Leuchtmar. Give me the answer."

Leuchtmar drew a folded paper from his pocket, and handed it to the Elector, who unfolded it. A number of torn bits of paper fell to the floor.

"What is that, Leuchtmar?" asked the Elector in amazement.

"Your highness," replied Leuchtmar, "that is Queen Christina's answer."

The Elector picked up a few of the larger scraps of paper, and examined them attentively. "It seems to me, Leuchtmar," he said, "that I recognize specimens of my own penmanship. Yes, yes, it is my writing!"

"Yes, indeed, your highness, it is your own writing. It is your letter to Queen Christina of Sweden."

"She sends it back to me torn?"

"She tore it with her own exalted hands, trampled it under her royal feet, and literally wept for rage."

"My heavens! what have I done to enrage her little Majesty so?"

"In the first place, noble sir, you wrote to the Queen in German instead of Latin, and she found that very wanting in respect, and thought you might have given yourself the trouble to write to her in the language most agreeable to her.[50] In the second place, you addressed the young Queen as 'Your highness,' when she is entitled to be called 'Most serene highness.' She is certain of that, for Oxenstiern had told her that he gained the title for her as an especial prerogative for her from your father and the house of Brandenburg. And in the third place, the Queen was annoyed that your writing was so cold and serious, and contained so few love words. 'If the Elector had nothing more to say to me than is contained in this letter,' cried the Queen, 'he need not have troubled himself to send it privately. This is a political document, which might have been handed by his envoy to the assembled States, and read aloud in public. But, if I do run the risk of receiving and reading a letter secretly, contrary to the high chancellor's wishes, let it at least be a love letter. I merely gave you audience because I was curious to get a love letter at last, and to know how such feelings are expressed. This is no love letter, though, and to such a note I have no other answer than this.' And then the Queen tore the letter into little bits and scattered them on the floor. I gathered up the pieces, in which she aided me assiduously, lest Chancellor Oxenstiern, whom she momentarily expected, might notice something peculiar, and suspect that she had received a secret missive. I asked her most serene highness if I should bring your grace these torn bits of paper as her answer. She replied with a bewitching smile that I must do so. Her cousin Frederick William might thereby learn to write her a better letter, when she would give him a better answer. This, gracious sir, is the story of the letter you intrusted to me for Queen Christina of Sweden."

The Elector laughed aloud. "A charming story!" he cried, "for which I must thank my young relative, for she has lighted my somber existence by a ray of sunshine. It pleases me that my cousin is so forward, and thereby candid. The little maid of fourteen sighs for a love letter, and hopes that her cousin Frederick William, who sues for her hand, will write her one, and is so innocent as to suppose that he woos her because he loves her. Poor child, disappointed in her curiosity and her wish to know herself beloved! Yes, yes, it is the perpetual longing of the young heart to be loved, and when the first love letter is received, the foolish young creature fancies itself the happiest being upon earth, and feels itself transported into the blessedness of paradise. Alas! they know not that all this is only an illusion, a sweet morning dream from which they will speedily be roused by rude, ungentle hands. Leuchtmar, I can not gratify the little Queen of Sweden in her wish; I can write her no love letter, for I would be guilty of deceiving this young heart. No, I can utter no tender protestations, while my heart is still bleeding from inflicted wounds. But a cordial, friendly letter I will write to my dear cousin. I will write to her in faultless Latin, and couch it in most reverential terms. Who knows, perhaps I may yet win her heart, and she heal mine! I will write the letter, and you shall secretly transmit it to Queen Christina. I will so express it that it shall not seem to her fitted to be read before the assembled States, even though it be no love letter. Go now, Leuchtmar, and rest after the fatigues of your journey. But to-morrow evening, when business is ended, come to me in my cabinet, and let us read a couple of Horace's odes for my strength and encouragement, as we used to do when I was still a free young man and not the Elector, the slave of position."