"Your excellency, I can not say exactly, for I did not see her yesterday. The soldiers however, and watchmen, too, affirm that she was dressed entirely in white, which betokens the death of a person of high rank."

"You did not see the White Lady yesterday, then? I think she always passes through your room, Mrs. Culwin?"

"She took another route this time, and something quite unusual happened: she even appeared outside of the castle, for the soldiers maintain that she passed before their windows, and the watchman, who was just making his round, swears that he also saw a white figure glide past the wall. It seems that this time the White Lady came from the Spree side. She did not enter the great corridor at all, but repaired immediately to the Prince's apartments. The sentinel says she went in, and that he distinctly heard the door creak and shut as she passed through."

"Formerly no opening or shutting of doors was to be heard, was there?" asked the count.

"No, your excellency, I never heard anything of the kind, and it always seemed to me as if the door opened not at all, and as if the White Lady vanished like mist."

"And she only visited the Prince's apartments? Do you know who was there?"

"Nobody but the Electoral Prince and his valet, I hear. I myself was not at home when the event occurred. Your excellency's stewardess had invited me to assist her in preparing yesterday's feast, and I only returned in haste as soon as it was rumored that the White Lady was abroad in the castle."

"But you have surely seen and questioned the Prince's valet?"

"He is the only man in the castle who can not be approached with good or evil words, your excellency, and who brooks not being questioned. Of course, I tried questioning him about the White Lady, but his only answer was that he had seen nothing, and did not believe in ghost stories. He only knew that his dear young Prince was sick, and he troubled himself about nothing else."

"He is still sick then, the Electoral Prince?" asked Count Schwarzenberg with indifference. "Has he not slept off his intoxication yet?"

"Most gracious sir, I do not believe that it was intoxication, else surely the Prince would be well to-day! But he is not at all better, and the Electress, who visited her son early this morning, broke forth into loud weeping when she saw him, for he must look just like a corpse."

"Did he recognize the Electress? Did he speak to her?"

"He knows nobody, he does not open his eyes, but lies there stiff and stark like a dead man, and if he did not sometimes fetch a breath, you would believe that he were already dead. This the little Princess herself told me, as I accidentally met her in the passage, when she returned from visiting her brother. But the doctor says this sleep is the beneficial result of his treatment, and that when the Electoral Prince awakes he will be quite restored to health. He has ordered that no one else be admitted to see the Prince, and Dietrich watches over him like a Cerberus."

"And he does well in that, Mrs. Culwin. I thank you for your information, and if anything new should happen I beg of you to come to me forthwith. Tell me one thing more: Do you believe that the specter will come again to-night? Is it the custom of the White Lady to show herself oftener than once?"

"My husband maintains that if she appears, as at this time, all in white, she will come again three nights consecutively. So it was when the Elector Sigismund died. I saw her only once, and she wore black gloves, but the next evening my husband saw her on the other side of the castle dressed all in white, and on the third evening the Elector died."

"It would be interesting if the White Lady should come again to-night. I should like to know if it is the case, and—Well, farewell, Mrs. Culwin, and if you learn anything new, share it with me. Perhaps I shall come over to the castle myself to-night."

He held out his hand to the old woman, and, as he pressed hers, he let a well-filled purse slip into it. He cut off her expressions of gratitude by a short nod of the head, and waved her toward the door. The castellan's wife withdrew, and, absorbed in deep thought, Count Schwarzenberg remained alone in his cabinet. With hands folded behind his back, he walked for a long while to and fro. His pace was ever steady, ever composed; his countenance seemed quite cheerful, quite tranquil, and yet his soul was stirred by passion and a storm was raging in his breast.

"He is alive—he is still alive," he said to himself. "One could almost believe that he has a star above which watches over him and preserves him. It has been ever so from childhood; and at times when I think of him I experience an unwonted sensation—I am afraid of him. He is my deadly enemy, I know it. If I did not thrust him aside, he would do so with me. If I did not kill him, he would kill me. It was a mere act of self-defense to put him out of the way. If it miscarries, I am lost, for I shall not soon have courage for a second attempt. I am a coward in this young man's presence, I am afraid of him! He is my fate, my evil fate! And I can not avert it, can undertake nothing more. I lack a tool. Oh, what a blockhead I was to dismiss Nietzel! His own sins were the scourge by which I lashed him into action. He was as wax in my hands, and if he failed this time, he must have tried it again. I would have driven him to it, and he would have been forced to obey. If the Electoral Prince should now get well, Nietzel would be glad, for he is a soft-hearted fool, and had it not been for Rebecca's sake, he could never have brought himself to commit the deed. Even while he executed it his heart bled, and—My God!" he suddenly exclaimed, "what a thought bursts upon me! If this Nietzel—"

He was silent and sank into an armchair, putting his hands before his face, to shut out the outer world, to be undisturbed in his deep train of thought.

Long he sat there, silent and motionless. Then he let his hands glide from before his face, which had now again resumed its haughty, composed expression, and arose from his seat.

"I must know what is the meaning of this ghost story," he said softly to himself. "Nowhere has the phantom been seen but in the antechamber to the Prince's rooms. It did not go like other spirits through walls and closed doors, but must needs open and shut doors, like ordinary mortals. Yet old Dietrich denies having seen the White Lady in the Electoral Prince's room. Then afterward the White Lady was seen outside the castle, she did not vanish through the air, but went out like a human being. It is a plot, that is clear. They are conspiring with the Electoral Prince, and profit by the mask to obtain safe access to the castle; or it may be Nietzel, come to confess what he has done to the Prince—maybe even to bring him a remedy. I must unravel it! I am sure the illusion succeeded so well last night that the apparition will be repeated. I shall make my regulations accordingly, and if it is so, then let the White Lady beware of me, for I am a good conjurer. I shall go to the castle myself to-night, and when the sentinels flee, I shall go in. Ah! we shall see who is stronger, the White Lady or the Stadtholder in the Mark!"

Melancholy and quiet reigned all day long in the Electoral palace. The Elector himself remained in his cabinet and had the court preacher John Bergius called, that he might pray with him and edify him by a few hours' pious conversation. But the dreadful uncertainty as to whether the White Lady had appeared in deep mourning or with black gloves still continued to disturb him, and whenever a door opened a shudder crept through his veins, for he thought that the White Lady herself might be coming to call him away.

"I shall leave Berlin," he said perpetually to himself. "I shall return to Koenigsberg; for if I stay here I will certainly die of anxiety and distress. I can not live in the house with a ghost. I shall go away. Ah! there is the door opening again! Who is it? Who dares come in here?"

"It is I, my husband," cried the Electress, bursting into tears. "I am just from our son."

"How is he?" asked the Elector carelessly. "Has he at last slept off the fumes of liquor?"

"Alas! George, I fear this is no case of intoxication, but he is dangerously sick. The White Lady did not appear for nothing."

"What, you think she came on our son's account?" asked the Elector, almost joyfully. "You think it is not for our—" He paused and drew a breath of relief, for he felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his soul. "You really think, my dear, that the White Lady came on our son's account?"

"I fear so, alas! I fear so! My son is sick and will probably die, and our house will be left desolate, become extinct, and ingloriously decay. Oh, my son! my son! I had built all my hopes upon him, and when I thought of him the future looked bright and promising."

"And if he were no more, then would all look sad and gloomy to you, although your husband would still be at your side, which rightfully ought to console you. But you have ever been a cold wife to me and a tender mother to your son, and it really vexes me to see how you love the son and despise his father. What an ado you make merely because your son has taken a little too much liquor, and suffers from the effects of intoxication, as the doctor says!"

"But I tell you, George, the Electoral Prince is sick, and the White Lady—"

"I will hear no more of that," broke in the Elector passionately; "it is a silly, idle tale, not worthy of credit. Everybody is dinning it into my ears to-day, and it is simply intolerable to have to listen. I just wish that I could leave this place, to be rid of this tiresome ghost story, and not to have to undergo such torment and vexation. In Koenigsberg, at least, we live in peace and quiet, and are not forever plagued by the sight of sullen faces and perpetual threats of war and pestilence. In Koenigsberg Castle, too, the White Lady has never appeared, and there are no nightly apparitions there."

"Let us return to Koenigsberg, George!" cried the Electress. "Do so for our son's sake; I tell you if we stay here, he is lost! Death stands forever at his side, threatening his precious young life! Ask me not what I mean, for I can not explain myself; yet I feel that I am right, and that he is lost if we do not speedily depart. Only listen this one time to my entreaties and representations, my husband. Let us set out before it is too late."

"Well then, Elizabeth, I will do as you wish," said George William, who was glad that he could grant his wife what he so ardently wished himself. "Yes, we shall promptly depart, since you urge it so pressingly."

The Electress gently encircled her husband's neck with her arm and imprinted a kiss upon his brow. "Thank you, George," she whispered. "You have probably saved our son from death. May the merciful God grant him restoration to health, and so soon as this is the case let us set off."

"Make all your preparations then, Elizabeth, for I tell you your tenderly beloved son is only a little tipsy, and to-morrow will be well as ever."

"God grant that you speak the truth, George. Then let us commence our journey day after to-morrow," which is Wednesday. But hark! I have one more request to make of you. Tell no one of our projected trip. Let us make our preparations in perfect secrecy."

"For all that I care," growled the Elector. "The principal thing is to be off. Abode here has been hateful to me ever since I heard those shouts of the populace the day our son returned. I can not live in a city where the mob undertakes to meddle in government affairs, and even prescribes to its Sovereign the dismissal of his minister. It is an uproarious, insolent rabble, the rabble of Berlin, and I shall not feel glad or tranquil until I have left the place."

"And I, too, George, will not feel glad or tranquil until we have left the place, carrying our son with us. I am going to work directly, and will prepare everything for our departure, and consult with my daughters. But I must first go and see how our son is."

The Electress hastened back to the apartments of the Electoral Prince, and old Dietrich came to meet her with joy-beaming countenance to announce to her that the Prince was awake, and felt perfectly well. "He only feels a great weakness in his limbs, and his head is heavy. The doctor has been here, and ordered that the Prince be kept perfectly quiet to-day, and not allowed to speak with any one or to leave his bed. To-morrow he will be quite well again."

"Then I will not speak to him," exclaimed the Electress; "I will only take one look at him and give him one kiss."

She entered her son's sleeping room and stepped up to his couch. The Electoral Prince smiled upon her, and his large eyes greeted her with tender glances. He had already opened his mouth to speak, but the Electress quickly laid her hand upon his lips.

"Do not speak, my Frederick," she whispered softly. "Sleep and compose yourself; know that your mother tenderly loves you. For my sake, my son, keep quiet to-day; keep your bed and talk with no one. Will you not promise me?"

He nodded smilingly and imprinted a kiss upon the hand which his mother still held over his lips. The Electress hurried away, and Frederick again remained alone with his old valet.

"Now, Dietrich," he whispered softly, "now keep watch that no one enters, and let us quietly await the night."

"Your grace thinks that the White Lady brought you good medicine last night, and that she will come again, do you not?"

"I am convinced of it, my good old man. God has sent her for my cure. God will not have me die already."

"The name of the Lord be blessed and praised!" murmured Dietrich, sinking upon his knees in fervent prayer.

Deep stillness pervaded the Electoral Prince's apartments the whole day long, for nobody dared venture in. The doctor himself, who came toward evening, only peeped in through a crevice of the door, and nodded quite contentedly when Dietrich whisperingly told him that the Prince had again fallen into a gentle slumber.

"I knew it," said the doctor with gravity. "My medicine was meant to cure him by means of sleep, and I am not surprised that my calculations have proved perfectly correct. To-morrow the Prince will be perfectly well—that is to say, if he regularly takes my medicine. It has been prepared for the second time, I hope?"

"Yes, indeed, doctor, and the Prince has half emptied the second bottle."

The doctor nodded with an important air, and repaired to the Electress, to inform her that the Electoral Prince had been upon the point of taking a violent nervous fever, but that the right medicament, which he had given him, had averted this evil, and saved the Prince from imminent peril.

Old Dietrich, however, threw away a spoonful of medicine every quarter of an hour, and when night came the bottle was empty.

And now the longed-for night had closed in with its curtain of darkness, its noiselessness and quiet. Deep silence ruled throughout the castle, no loud word was any longer to be heard, not a man was to be met in hall or passage. Before the ushering in of the momentous hour each one had made haste to tuck himself up in bed, and shut his eyes, for everybody dreaded lest the specter of the preceding night should walk abroad again and show itself to him. The sentinels in the corridor before the Electoral suite of rooms and in the vestibule of the Prince's apartments dared not walk to and fro, for the noise of their own steps terrified them, and the dark shadows of their own forms, thrown upon the ground by the dim oil lamps, filled them with unspeakable dread. They had planted themselves stiffly and rigidly beside the doors, firmly determined as soon as the awful apparition should show itself to take to their heels and return to the guardroom. And happily they had some justification for this, inasmuch as the soldiers had received orders from the Stadtholder in the Mark, when they relieved guard, to convey instant tidings to the guardhouse if anything remarkable should occur.

In order to convey instant tidings, they must of course take to their heels and forsake their posts. This was the only comfort of the soldier who was stationed in the vestibule leading to the princely apartments, and therefore he stood close to the door, which was only upon the latch, that he might the more rapidly gain the grand corridor, and warn in his flight the sentinels there. Yet he dared not open his eyes, and his heart beat so violently that it took away his breath.

The great cathedral clock tolled the hour of midnight with loud and heavy strokes. The clock in the castle tower gave answer, and then the wall clock in the great corridor slowly and solemnly struck twelve.

The soldier closed his eyes, and murmured with trembling lips, "All good spirits praise the Lord our God."

The clangor of the clocks had ceased, and all again was still.

The soldier ventured to open his eyes again. As yet no sound broke in upon the stillness; his glance timidly and slowly made the circuit of the hall. The two oil lamps burned clearly enough to enable him to survey the whole intervening space. He saw everything quite distinctly. There the door with the lamps, here the door beside which he leaned; against the wall on that side those two huge, black wooden presses, so curiously carved, and between them that little door. This door began to make him uneasy. Whither did it lead? Why stood no guard there? Was it locked or merely latched? He asked himself all this with quickly beating heart, and could not turn his glance from it. He had never before observed it. Now it seemed to him as if it moved! A cold shudder ran through his whole frame.

Yes, it was no illusion! Yes, the door opened, and there stood the White Lady in her long, flowing robes! The soldier did not shriek, for horror had frozen the scream upon his lips. He tore open the door, and rushed into the corridor, and his deadly pale and terrorstricken face imparted with greater rapidity than words to the two sentinels there the dreadful tidings. All three ran down the corridor together to the front door, down the steps, across the wide court, and into the guardroom.

"The White Lady! the White Lady!" they gasped.

"Where is she? Who has seen her?" inquired a form emerging from the rear of the room and approaching them; and now, as the lamplight fell upon this form, the soldiers recognized it very well—it was the Stadtholder in the Mark himself who stood before them, and behind him they saw his Chamberlain von Lehndorf and the police-master Brandt.

"Which of you has seen the White Lady?" asked Count Schwarzenberg once more.

"I, gracious sir," stammered one of the three with difficulty. "I was stationed before the Electoral Prince's rooms, and I saw the White Lady enter through the little door between the two presses."

"And whither went she?"

"That I did not see, your excellency, for—"

"For you ran away directly," concluded Count Schwarzenberg for him. "And you two others! You stood in the great corridor; did you see the apparition, too?"

"No, your excellency, we did not see her. She did not come through the great corridor."

"You did not see her. Why did you run away then?"

"Your excellency, we ran away because—because—we do not know ourselves."

"Well, I know," cried the count, shrugging his shoulders. "You ran away because you are cowards! Hush! No excuses now! We shall talk about it early to-morrow morning. Stay here in the guardroom. I myself will go up and see what folly has frightened you hares. Lehndorf and Brandt, both of you stay here and await my return."

"But, most gracious sir," implored the chamberlain, "I beg your permission to accompany you. Nobody can know—"

"Whether the White Lady may not stab and throttle me, would you say? No, Lehndorf, I fear no woman's shape, be she clothed in white or black. I am well armed, and methinks the White Lady will find her match in me. All of you stay here; but if I should not return in an hour, then you may mount the stairs and see whether the White Lady has borne me off through the air.—Which of you," he said, turning to the soldiers—"which of you stood guard before the princely apartments?"

"It was I, your excellency."

"Whence came the White Lady?"

"She came through the little door between the two presses in the vestibule."

"It is well! You will all stay here. And, as I said, Lehndorf, if I return not in an hour, then come."

He nodded kindly to the chamberlain and strode out of the room.

Meanwhile above, in the Electoral Prince's chamber, the White Lady had been expected with glowing impatience. Dietrich had already stood for a quarter of an hour at the antechamber door, waiting with palpitating heart for her appearance. The Electoral Prince had with difficulty raised himself up, and, supporting himself upon his elbows, had been listening with uplifted head in the direction of the door ever since the midnight hour had struck. And now the door opened and the White Lady glided in. With gentle, undulating gait and veil thrown back she went to the Prince's bed, and when she saw him sitting up a smile lighted up her pale face.

"You see, Electoral Prince Frederick William, I have not deceived you," she said; "you live, and you will now get perfectly well."

"Yes, I believe that I will get well," replied the Prince; "and I owe my life to you."

"Never mind that," said she, slowly shaking her head. "I am not here for your sake, but for my poor Gabriel's sake, to expiate his sin and to free his soul from guilt. I dare not use many words. The fame of the White Lady has spread through the whole city, and it may well be that they are on my track to-night—that Count Schwarzenberg's suspicions have been aroused.

"He is a bad man, and I am afraid of him."

"And yet you have come here! Have not shunned danger in order to save me!"

"I have not shunned danger in order to go to my beloved and be able to tell him—'Lift up your head and rejoice in the Lord; crime is taken away from your head—you are no murderer, for the Electoral Prince lives.' One thing I would like to add, and I beseech you to grant it to me. Say that you will pardon Gabriel Nietzel."

"I pardon Gabriel Nietzel with my whole heart, and never shall he be punished for what he has done to me! You have atoned for his crime, and may God forgive him, as I do."

"I thank you, sir. And now take your second draught."

She took the little flask, poured the rest of its contents into a glass, and handed it to the Prince.

"Drink and be glad of heart," she said, "for to-morrow, early in the morning, you will awake a sound man. The angel of death has swept past you; take good heed lest you fall a second time into his clutches. Flee before him to the greatest possible distance. There, take, drink life and health from this glass, and the Lord our God be with you in all your ways!"

"I thank you, and blessed be you too!" And the Electoral Prince took the glass from her hand and drained it.

"It is finished," said Rebecca, heaving a deep sigh.

"Now I can return to my beloved and my child. Farewell!"

"Give me your hand, and let our farewell be that of friends," said Frederick William.

She reached forth her little white hand from beneath her veil, and he cordially pressed it within his own. "You are a noble, high-minded woman, and I shall ever remember you with gratitude and friendship. I owe you my life; it is truly a great debt, and you would be magnanimous if you could point out some way whereby the weight might be a little lessened. I beseech you tell me some way in which I may prove my gratitude."

"I will do so, sir! Some day when you are Elector, and a reigning Sovereign in your land, then have compassion upon those who are enslaved and oppressed, then spare the Jews!"

She turned away, drew her veil over her head, and disappeared.

"My work is finished! My beloved is atoned for!" exulted her soul. As if borne on wings of happiness and bliss, she soared through the antechamber and stepped out into the vestibule.

All here was still and quiet, and she did not observe that the sentinel no longer stood at the door. Her thoughts were withdrawn from the present, her soul was far away with him—him whom she loved, for whom she had risked her life.

Thus she sped through the great space and approached the door between the two presses. All at once she started and shrank back, and the tall, manly form standing before this door sprang forward, and with strong hand tore her veil impatiently from her head.

"Rebecca!"

"Count Schwarzenberg!"

For one moment they surveyed one another with flaming eyes.

She read her death sentence in his looks. But she would not die. No, she would not die! She would see her beloved, her child once more! With a sudden jerk she freed her arm from the hand that held her prisoner. She knew not what to do, whither she could flee. She had only a vague consciousness that to be alone with him meant death—that she would he safe only outside the castle. Without, on the street, Schwarzenberg would not venture to seize her, for he knew that she possessed his secret and that she would accuse him. She flew across the vestibule, tore open the door to the long corridor, and sprang down it like a hunted deer. But the pursuer was behind her, close behind her! She heard his breath, he stretched out his hands toward her—she felt his touch, and again she burst loose and flew away!

At the end of the corridor is a small staircase which leads to the upper stories. She knows the way—oh, she knows the way! Above it is another long corridor, and if from the head of the stairs she turns to the right, she will reach the great staircase. She will hurry down to the quarters of the castellan and his wife; she will call—scream!

Oh, if she can only get so far!

She flies up the little steps, but she feels the pursuer close at her heels. And just as she reaches the top step, his hand, like a lion's paw, is laid upon her shoulder.

"Stand still, or I will strangle you!" he murmurs. "Stand still, and I swear that I will not kill you!"

"No, no, I do not believe you!" she gasps, and with both hands she seizes his and thrusts it back. Only on, on! She no longer knows whether she turns to the right or left, she runs down the dimly lighted corridor, and he follows.

"O God! O God! there is no staircase!" She has missed the way—there is no way out now! The dread enemy is behind her! She can no longer avoid him! He will kill her, for she knows his secret! No escape!—no deliverance!

But at the end of the corridor she sees a door. If she can only succeed in opening it, jumping into the room, shutting the door, and drawing the bolt!

"God help me! God be with me!" she calls out aloud and flies to the door, bursts it open, rushes through, and—his weight presses against it; she can not shut it, she can not draw the bolt. He is there with her in that little room, which has no other outlet. No deliverer is near! She falls upon her knees, and lifts up her arms to him imploringly. "Oh, sir! oh, sir, pity! Do not kill me! I will be silent as the grave!"

"As the grave!" repeats he, with a savage smile.

He stoops down and something bright glitters in his hand! She sees it quite clearly, for it is a bright summer night, and her eyes are inured to darkness.

"Almighty God, you would murder me! Mercy, sir, mercy!"

He has closed the door behind them, yet the shriek of her death agony has penetrated the door and echoed down the corridor. Nobody hears it. All the chambers in this upper story are bare and uninhabited, and for economy's sake the corridors and staircases in this upper part of the castle are unlighted. To-day, however, at nightfall, the Stadtholder had himself brought word to castellan Culwin that every passage, landing, and staircase in the whole castle should be lighted! And so it was, and even in that remote upper story lamps are burning. How long and solitary this corridor is! Not the slightest sound has broken the stillness since those two sprang into that room.

But now! A fearful, piercing shriek! A death cry forces its way through the door and in one long echo vibrates along the corridor. It sounds like the wailing and moaning of invisible spirits. Then nothing more interrupts the silence. Nothing more!

The door opens again, and Count Schwarzenberg steps into the corridor.

He is alone.

He locks the door and puts the key into his pocket. Then, with quiet, firm tread, he goes down the corridor, down the little staircase, and finally, with composed, haughty bearing, down the great staircase into the guardroom.

"God be praised, your excellency, that you are here!" calls out Lehndorf, hastening to meet him.

Count Schwarzenberg nods to him, and then turns to the soldiers, who stand there silent and motionless.

"What fools you are!" he says, shrugging his shoulders. "To put you soldiers to flight no cannon is required, but only a couple of white cats. A white cat it was, which made cowards of you. I saw her bounding along before me through the great corridor, and followed her to the upper story. There she slipped into an open door, the last door in the upper story. I jumped after her into the little apartment, but she must have found some other way out, for I could find her nowhere again, and that is the only wonder of the whole story, for the windows were closed. For the rest I command you to let naught of this story transpire, for fear of giving rise to idle tales."

The soldiers heard him in reverential silence, but the next morning it was known throughout the castle and almost through the whole city that the White Lady had made her appearance again, and that at last, when pursued, she had vanished in the form of a white cat in one of the rooms in the upper story of the castle. After that nobody ventured into the upper story, and, as it was uninhabited, it was not necessary to station sentinels there.



XII.—THE DEPARTURE.

When the Electoral Prince awoke the next morning after a long, refreshing slumber, his first glance fell upon his faithful old valet, who stood at the foot of his couch, his face actually beaming with joy.

"Why, Dietrich," said Frederick William, "you look so happy! What has altered your old face so since yesterday?"

"The sight of you, most gracious sir, for your face has altered, too. Your cheeks are no longer deadly pale, nor your features distorted. Your highness looks quite like a well man now; somewhat pale, it is true; but your lips are again red and your eyes bright. Ah, gracious sir, the dear White Lady kept her word, she saved you!"

"God bless her!" said the Electoral Prince solemnly. "But hark! old man, tell nobody that I have been saved. You must not use such dangerous words, not even think them. There was no need to save me, for I have been exposed to no peril. I have not been sick at all, but only overcome by wine, and, to speak plainly, drunk—do you hear, old man? I have been drunk two whole days: such is the account you must give of my attack."

"I shall do so, your highness, since you order it; but it is a sin and a shame that I should slander my own dear young master, who is such a sober, steady Prince."

"Now, Dietrich," said the Electoral Prince, with a melancholy smile, "you give me more praise than I deserve. I was not quite so sober in Holland."

"No, sir; in dear, blessed Holland, life was a different thing. It was like heaven there, and when I looked at your grace I always felt as if I saw before me Saint George himself, so bold, spirited, and happy you ever seemed."

"And so I felt, too," said the Prince softly to himself. "But all that is past now. All! The costly intoxication of happiness is at an end, and I am sobered. Yes, yes," he continued aloud, springing with energy from his couch, "you are quite right, old Dietrich. Now help this sober, steady Prince to dress himself, that he may wait upon the Elector and Electress and announce his recovery to them."

After the Electoral Prince had made his toilet, he repaired to the Electoral apartments to pay his respects. George William received his son with sullen peevishness of manner, hardly deigning to bestow upon him more than a single glance of indifference.

"Why, you still look pale and weak," he said coolly. "It is no great honor for a Prince to be overcome by a couple of glasses of wine, and to succumb as if he had been struck by a cannon ball."

"Most gracious sir," replied Frederick William, smiling, "I hope yet to be able to prove to your highness that I can stand against the fire of cannon balls better than Count Schwarzenberg's wine, and that I can go to meet a battery of artillery more bravely than a battery of bottles."

"I hope it will not be in your power to prove any such thing, sir," cried the Elector impatiently. "I want to hear nothing about war, and you must banish all thoughts of war and heroic deeds from your mind, and become a peaceful, law-abiding citizen. Your head has been turned in Holland, but I rather expect to set it right again! We are going back to Prussia, and you will accompany us. Go now to the Electress, and disturb me no longer in my work."

Frederick William bowed in silence and repaired to his mother's apartments. The Electress received him with open arms, and pressed him to her heart.

"I have you again, my son, I have you again," she cried with warmth. "A merciful God has not been willing to deprive me of my only happiness; he has preserved you to me. Oh, my son, I love you so much, and I feel, moreover, that you love me, and that we shall understand each other, and that all causes of disagreement will disappear so soon as that hateful, dreaded man no longer stands between us—he, who is your enemy as well as mine. We are going back to Prussia, and my heart is full of joy, hope, and happiness. There I shall have you safe; there you are mine, and no murderer or enemy there threatens my beloved only son!"

"But, most revered mother, there the worst, most dangerous enemy of all threatens me."

"Who is he? What is his name?"

"Idleness, your highness. I shall be condemned there to an inactive, useless existence. I shall have nothing to do but to live. O most gracious mother! intercede for me with my father and Count Schwarzenberg, that I may be appointed Stadtholder of Cleves, for there I would have something to do, there I could be useful, and they wish for my presence there."

"You do not wish to stay with me, then?" asked his mother, in a tone of mortification. "You already wish yourself away from me and your sisters?"

The Prince's countenance, which had been just aglow with enthusiasm, having for the moment dropped its mask, now once more assumed its serious, tranquil expression, and again the mask was drawn over its features.

"I by no means long to be away from you," he said quietly, "but I shall delight in accompanying you to Prussia."

"That is what I call spoken like a good, obedient child," cried the Electress, "and, Louise, I advise you to profit by such an example. Just look at your sister, Frederick, only see what a sorrowful figure she presents. She does not even come to welcome her brother, but sits there quite disconsolate with tears in her eyes."

"No, dearest mother, I am not crying," replied the Princess gently. "I, too, am right glad that we are to return to Prussia."

"That is not true, mamma," exclaimed Princess Hedwig Sophie; "she is not glad at all. On the contrary, she cried and lamented all last night, thinking that I was asleep and knew nothing about it. But I heard everything. I know that she would rather stay here, and that she finds it charming here all of a sudden, although she used to think it so dull. But Louise has entirely changed these last four days, and since he has been here she finds tiresome old Berlin a splendid place, and—"

"But, Hedwig," interrupted her sister, whose cheeks were suffused with a crimson flush, "what are you talking about, and how can you chatter such nonsense?"

"It is true, she talks nonsense," said the Electress severely; "yet I should like to know what her words signify. Who is he who has so transformed tiresome Berlin in your sister's eyes?"

"Why, you do not know, mamma?" asked the mischievous child, smiling and putting on a look of astonishment.

"You do not know who loves our Louise so ardently, so passionately? You do not know the man for whose sake she would leave father and mother? You do not know the only man whom the Princess Charlotte Louise loves?"

"I do not know, but I command you to tell me!" said the Electress dryly.

"Well," said the Princess, smilingly surveying the group, "it is our dear, only brother—it is Frederick William."

"You are a little blockhead!" exclaimed the Electress, shrugging her shoulders and smiling.

"You are a dear little rogue," said Frederick William, tenderly embracing his willful sister. She playfully broke away from him, dancing through the hall, and challenging her brother to pursue and overtake her. Princess Louise said not a word, but the blush upon her cheeks died away, and the expression of horror and alarm vanished from her features.

Still Princess Hedwig Sophie kept up her frolic, and as often as the Prince thought he had caught her she flew off again like a butterfly. Finally, at the extreme end of the hall, he held her fast, and now, laughingly and tenderly, she flung her arms about his neck, and whispered softly: "Expect me this evening in your room at nine o'clock. I have something important to tell you. Silence!"

Again she let him go, and continued to hop about, laughing merrily and cheerfully as a child.

And in the evening, when the clock in the great corridor had just struck the ninth hour, the Princess Hedwig Sophie slipped unperceived into the room of her brother, who already held the door open for her and awaited her coming.

"Look, here you are, my princess of the fairies," said he, smiling. "What is there now on hand, and what playful scheme are you revolving in your mind to-day?"

But the countenance of the Princess exhibited no signs of playfulness. It was pale, and her whole being seemed under the influence of violent excitement.

"Frederick," she said hurriedly, "I have a dreadful secret to confide to you. Our sister Louise loves Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg."

"I thought as much," murmured the Prince.

"I have known it for a long while," continued the Princess, "but I took no notice of it, hoping that absence and separation would make her forget him. But since his return I have had no more hope. Last night, in her distress, she betrayed all to me, and I must tell you something dreadful, something shocking. You must reveal it to nobody—not another one must know it. Do you promise me that?"

"I promise, Hedwig. But tell me what it is."

She bent over close to his ear and whispered:

"She has granted him a rendezvous."

"Impossible, sister, you are mistaken!"

"No, no, Frederick, I am not mistaken. I heard her myself when she told him so. It was in Count Schwarzenberg's hothouse; I came behind her with the ladies, and she thought I was paying no attention whatever to her and all that she was saying to Count Adolphus. But I managed to watch her constantly without attracting the attention of the ladies I was with. My eyes and ears are very sharp, and I saw her press a note into his hand, and heard her repeat to him the contents of the note, appointing an interview with him this evening at ten o'clock. Old Trude is to wait for him at the back side door of the castle next to the cathedral, and she is to conduct him to her. You must not suffer it, Frederick William; that bad Count Schwarzenberg shall not carry off my sister."

"No, that he shall not," said the Prince. "I thank you, sister, for coming to me. We two shall save her—we two alone, and nobody shall know anything about it. Even she herself must not find out that we know her secret. We must be brisk and determined, though, for it is late, only wanting a half hour of being ten o'clock. Who is old Trude?"

"Louise's chambermaid, who has been with her all her life, for Trude was her nurse. She idolizes our sister, and would go through fire and water for her sake. What Louise commands is law with her."

"Then we must prevent old Trude, by force or cunning, from going to the door and admitting the count."

"By force, impossible, for that would make a noise; but by cunning. I have it, Frederick, I have it! I will entice old Trude into my room and then lock myself in with her, playing all sorts of tricks, and seeming to have no object at all in view but amusement and teasing. I will take care of old Trude."

"And I of Count Schwarzenberg. It is high time, sister! Make haste, lest old Trude escape you. But hark! It will be necessary for you to speak to the old woman, besides. You must threaten her with revealing the whole affair to our father if she does not do as you command, and tell our sister that she waited for the count a whole hour in vain."

"You are right, Frederick. That is still better. Louise must believe that he did not come. To work!—to work!"

The Princess sprang away with the fleetness of a gazelle, and the Prince was left alone.

"I wish I could go to meet him sword in hand," he muttered between his clinched teeth. "I understand their game. They would have poisoned me and carried off my sister, so that she would have been forced to marry him, and then by means of the Emperor she would have been declared heiress of the Electoral Mark of Brandenburg. Ah! I penetrate their designs, and they shall not succeed. Their poison proved inefficacious, and so shall their love! Now away to the door through which the fine gallant was to have entered. He will find it locked, and I shall keep guard before it the livelong night."

The Prince left his own apartments, and hurried down a private staircase and through dark passages to the door designated. It was only on latch, but a key was in the lock. Quickly he locked the door, and then stood listening intently. It struck ten o'clock, and as the last stroke vibrated in his ear a hand was laid upon the door latch outside, and a manly voice whispered: "Trude, open! It is I. The one whom you expect! Open, quick!"

"Were it hell," murmured the Prince softly to himself, "yes, were it hell, I would open the door. But there is no admittance to paradise for you. Knock on, knock on! The gates of the Electoral mansion are not undone for you. Knock on; the castle of the Elector of Brandenburg is locked against you, and you must stand without, you Counts of Schwarzenberg, for you shall not thrust me out of the palace of my fathers! I shall be Elector of Brandenburg in spite of you, and then, Count Schwarzenberg, Stadtholder in the Mark, then be on your guard! I shall remember, Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg, that your finger rapped at this door, threatening to bring shame and disgrace upon this house! And then, perhaps, I may open a door for you, and allow you to enter, but it will not be for a lover's rendezvous, and the door which admits you will not so easily grant you an escape. Now I suffer and endure, but a time of reckoning will come! Schwarzenbergs, beware of me!"

For a long while yet the Electoral Prince stood within the door, and for a long while yet, at intervals, the knocking on the outside was repeated. Then all was still. Frederick William returned to his own apartments.

Early next morning took place the departure of the Electoral family for Prussia. It was to be wholly without formality, and consequently no one had been notified. The Elector had only caused the two Counts Schwarzenberg to be summoned after the carriages were ready, and when they came in haste they found the Electoral family just on the point of entering their several equipages.

"I meant to set out secretly," said George William, stretching out both hands to the Stadtholder, "in order to spare myself the pain of bidding you farewell, Adam. But now I find that my heart is stronger than my will, and I must embrace you once more before I go!"

While the Elector embraced his favorite and received from him assurances of perpetual fidelity, Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg approached the Princess Charlotte Louise, who stood silent and apart in a window recess, looking out upon the street with pallid countenance and eyes reddened by weeping.

"Louise," he whispered softly, "Louise, you—"

But before he could utter another word, Princess Hedwig stood beside him, addressing him with amiable speech, and the Electoral Prince approached his sister and offered her his arm to conduct her to the carriage. She walked along, leaning on her brother's arm, without once lifting her eyes from the ground, deeply humiliated by the thought that her lover had caused her to wait for him in vain. A quarter of an hour later the two clumsy vehicles containing the Electoral family rolled out of the castle gate and struck into the road leading to Koenigsberg. The White Lady had driven away the Elector George William, and he was nevermore to behold the palace of his fathers.

The White Lady had saved Prince Frederick William, and as he now drove through the gates of Berlin in that clumsy old coach he said to himself, with joyful anticipation: "I shall see you again, Berlin! I shall see you again, dear town of my fathers! I shall come back, and, please God, not humbly and enslaved as I go away to-day, but as a Prince, who is lord within his own domains, with God in his heart, a clear sky overhead, and no Schwarzenbergs upon the horizon!"

Wearily and panting for breath the poor horses dragged the heavy carriage through the sands of the Mark, but within sat the Electoral Prince—within sat Caesar and his fortunes.



Book IV.

I.—THE YOUTHFUL SOVEREIGN.

The Elector George William had been gathered to his fathers. On the 1st of December in the year 1640 he had at last closed his weary eyes, and bidden farewell to a world which had brought him much grief and disquiet, little joy and repose, much mortification and disappointment, never a single triumph or solid satisfaction.

The Elector George William had been gathered to his fathers, and his son Frederick William was Elector now. Two melancholy years of privation and humiliation, resignation and oppression, had he passed at his father's side, ever suspected by him, ever watched with jealous eyes, and forcibly denied any participation in the administration of the government, ever struggling with care, even for daily food, and forced to borrow at usurious rates of interest to provide even a meager support for his little household. It had been a severe school, but Frederick William had passed through it with a brave spirit and cheerful determination. Across the dark and gloomy present his clear eye had ever been directed to the future, and hope had ever lingered at his side, holding him erect when overburdened by care, consoling him when vexed and humiliated by his father's unjust suspicions and ill will. Not unexpectedly had the Elector George William died; full two months before his summons came, the two physicians in ordinary, after holding a long consultation with the celebrated Koenigsberg doctors, announced to the Electoral Prince that the Elector was drawing near his end, and that his dropsy and insidious fever were slowly but inevitably causing death.

The Electoral Prince had had time, therefore, to prepare for the momentous hour which would call him from obscurity and inactivity—time to summon to him those whom he wished to have at his side in the critical hour. Up to the period of his father's death he had been an obedient, submissive son; yet he had well known that as soon as George William closed his eyes he would have to step into his place and be his successor. And he would be a worthy successor! That he had vowed, clasping his father's cold hand. He had told his mother so when, beside her husband's corpse, she had blessed him in his new dignity, and besought his protection and love for herself and her two daughters! Yes, he would be his father's worthy successor; he would force the world to respect him. Such were his thoughts as, on the day after his father's decease, he for the first time entered his cabinet, and seated himself before the great writing table at which the Elector had been wont to sit.

To the last day of his life George William had himself held the reins of government, and, in the timid jealousy of his heart, angrily refused all aid, all assistance. No one had dared to open and read the incoming rescripts nor to attend to neglected business.

On the table lay whole piles of unopened letters and rescripts, whole heaps of acts awaiting only the Electoral signature. Frederick William laid his hand on these acts which he had now to sign, and his large, deep-blue eyes were uplifted to Heaven.

"Lord!" he cried fervently—"Lord, make known to me the way in which I should go!"

These were the first words spoken by Frederick William on commencing his reign, and on seating himself before his father's cabinet table, which was now his own.



He took up the first of the sealed documents and opened it. It was a representation from the cities of Berlin and Cologne, whose magistrates implored the Elector to furnish them some redress for their affliction and want, and besought him, even now, to make peace with the Swedes, and to command the Stadtholder in the Mark to institute a milder government in the unhappy province. In heartrending words, they pictured the distresses of both wretched cities, which had so far declined that they had now hardly seven thousand inhabitants, while ten years ago they had numbered more than twenty thousand. "But fire, pillage, and oppressions," so the writing wound up, "have reduced us to the most extreme poverty. Many of the inhabitants have made haste to end their wretched lives by means of water, cord, or knife, and the rest are upon the point of forsaking their homes, with their wives and children, preferring exile to remaining longer in these cities, the abodes of pestilence and war. The Stadtholder in the Mark, however, feels no pity for our sufferings, and just recently, despite our entreaties, has had all the suburbs burned down, because the Swedish general Stallhansch was on the march against us. We most urgently entreat your highness to have compassion upon us in our low estate, and to instruct the Stadtholder to slacken the severity of his rule and to spare us in our grief." [29]

Sighing, Frederick William laid aside the melancholy writing, and took up the next in order. It was a petition from the town of Prenzlow, not less sad, not less moving than the first. The magistracy of Prenzlow likewise prayed for compassion and redress of grievances, and painted in moving words the misery of town and country. "Since," they wrote, "on account of the unhappy war existing, the fields hereabout had been lying idle for some years, such unheard-of scarcity had ensued that the people had not only been driven to making use of unusual articles of diet, such as dogs, cats, nay, even dead asses lying in the streets, but impelled by the fierce pangs of hunger, in town as well as in the country, had fallen upon, cooked, and devoured one another!" [30]

"Much to be pitied land, and much to be pitied Prince as well," sighed Frederick William. "A heavy, an almost intolerable burden of government has fallen upon my shoulders. God help me to sustain it worthily!" [31]

He stretched out his hand for a third paper, when the door opened and old Dietrich entered.

"Well, old man," asked the Elector, "what brings you here? And why is your old face so merry to-day?"

"Because I have something pleasant to communicate to your highness. The two gentlemen whom your honor has been expecting are here. Colonel von Burgsdorf and—"

"Leuchtmar?" joyfully inquired the Elector, and, upon Dietrich's assent, he hurried himself toward the door. But after he had already stretched out his hand to turn the knob, he paused and slowly resumed his place in the middle of the room.

"Who is in the antechamber, besides?" he asked.

"Your highness, there are also without the gentlemen whom you summoned to an audience, the Chamberlain von Schulenburg, Herr von Kroytz, Herr von Kospoth, and the jeweler Dusnack."

"Those gentlemen may wait. Desire Herr von Kalkhun to come in."

Dietrich withdrew to the antechamber. The Elector's eyes were fastened upon the door with an expression of joyful expectancy. When it opened, and the tall, slender form of his friend and preceptor became visible, he could restrain himself no longer, but, forgetting all ceremony, all etiquette, hurried with outspread arms to meet Leuchtmar, and impetuously clasped him to his breast.

"God be praised that I have you again!" he said, with a warm embrace. "Once more I have found a father and a faithful friend. Welcome, you man of loyal heart, with my whole soul I bid you welcome!"

"And you, most gracious sir," cried Leuchtmar, deeply moved, "may you ever receive blessings and good gifts from on high, and always deserve them by noble thoughts and deeds! Such shall be my prayer evening and morning, and your highness shall verify my petition."

"Amen! God grant it!" said Frederick William solemnly. "And now, look at me, my friend, and let me read in your features that you are the same as of old."

"The same as of old, indeed!" smiled Leuchtmar. "These two years have made an old man of me, and blanched my hair. I not merely longed after you, I grieved for you, knowing, as I did, what your grace had to bear and suffer. My heart was weighed down by grief and sorrow when I thought of what my beloved young master was undergoing."

"It is true," said Frederick William. "I have gone through hard trials and had many humiliations to endure. I have been treated as an adventurer and alien, unworthy of being employed or consulted. I was forever subjected to suspicion, and accused of coveting a throne before my time. If I asked after my father's health, he supposed I did so because I longed for his death; and if I made no inquiries, he accused me of indifference and want of natural affection. Alas! Leuchtmar, in the despair of my soul I have actually thought at times that the beggar on the street had an enviable fate compared with that of the Electoral Prince of Brandenburg—and—But hush! hush! I will no longer think of the past with bitterness and chagrin. Reproach against my father shall never pass my lips. He rests with God, and, as his soul has entered into everlasting rest, let us not stir up the ashes of memory, but let peace be between father and son, eternal peace! And now, my friend, be the past forgotten and blotted out, with all its pains and wounds, and to the present and future only be our thoughts dedicated. You are here; I have again my most trusted friend; and in this the very first hour of our reunion I will confess something to you, Leuchtmar, which you indeed have long since known, but which I in the arrogance of youth have sometimes denied. I now feel that Socrates was a wise man when he said, 'Our education begins with the first day of life, nor is complete upon the last.' Fate has indeed placed me in a difficult school, and I am conscious that I am far from possessing adequate attainments, and that there is still much for me to study and digest. Therefore, my friend, from you I demand aid, that I may study to some purpose, and that I may at least take position in the world and among posterity as a first-class scholar."

"Ah! most gracious sir," said Leuchtmar, smiling, "you are already more than that, and have in these two years of trial passed your examen abiturientium with great distinction."

"And think you I am entered now as a student in the high school of knowledge? Yes, Leuchtmar, such is indeed the case, and since it may well be that at times I shall make false steps, and commit blunders through inadvertence or misunderstanding, I demand of you to point out to me my mistakes."

"But, your highness, I might myself be the one in error, and in my short-sightedness attempt to teach one much better acquainted with the subject than myself."

"In such case let us weigh and compare opinions, when, surely, we shall discover the right. Only promise me this one thing, Leuchtmar, that on all occasions you will speak the truth to me, according to the best of your knowledge and perception—that you will not conceal it from me, even when you may know that it will be irksome and disagreeable to me. Will you promise me this, my friend?"

"I promise it. I promise, if your highness requests the expression of my views and opinions, to give you the truth, according to the inmost convictions of my heart."

"No, Leuchtmar, in important matters you must give me your opinion, even when I have not asked for it."

"Well then, your highness, I promise that too."

"And on my side I promise always to listen patiently, and not to become angry and excited, even when our opinions disagree and you utterly oppose me. You smile and shake your head. Probably you think that I can not keep my promise."

"I do think so, your highness; yet I fear not, and shall courageously weather the storm. I am already old and have witnessed the gathering of many a tempest, have seen the clouds burst, and afterward seen the bright blue sky and cheerful sunshine again. I shall not fear, even though the thunder roar and growl, for the thunder has somewhat of the voice of God, and there is something exalted and majestic in the lightning's flash. Only, gracious sir, it must not strike, but content itself with harmless shining. Will you most kindly promise me thus much, gracious sir?"

"Am I Jupiter, that I hold the lightning in my hand, and can direct its stroke?"

"Yes, indeed, sir, Jupiter you are, in your native element, amid the flash of lightnings and the roar of thunder."

The Elector smiled. "Tell me, Leuchtmar, am I really then of so fiery a temperament and of so passionate a nature? Why do you not answer me? The truth, Leuchtmar, the truth!"

"Well, the truth is that your highness is of quite a fiery temperament and of a tolerably passionate nature. But you are not to blame for this, for it was entailed upon you with your Hohenzollern blood. You are the worthy descendant of your ancestor Albert Achilles; and be glad of this, sir, for by sluggish blood and soft complexion great things have never been accomplished."

"Then you expect me to accomplish great things?"

"Yes, your highness, such are indeed my expectations, and I glory in them!"

"We will talk of this hereafter, friend," said the Elector, gently shaking his head. "But now let us forget what I have become since yesterday, and consider that I have a heart, which is young still and full of love and ardor, despite all it has suffered. Two months ago, when the doctors told me that my dear father's case was hopeless, I dispatched secret messages to two friends, and requested them to come here and tarry in the neighborhood of Koenigsberg until I should have them summoned by a courier. I was not willing to vex my father in the least degree during his lifetime, and would not even see my friends in secret, but preferred to wait patiently until I could do so openly.[32] The two friends whom I sent for to be near me were Burgsdorf and yourself, my Leuchtmar. But to you I gave previously another commission. Have you executed it?"

"Yes, your highness, I have executed it."

"You have been to Holland? At The Hague and at Doornward?"

"I have been there, gracious sir!"

"You have been there," repeated Frederick William, drawing a deep breath. "O Leuchtmar! you men in private life are happy because you are free. You can go whither you will, and follow the dictates of your own hearts. But we, poor slaves to our position, must accommodate ourselves to circumstances, and patiently submit to the laws of necessity. How often has it seemed to me as if my longings could not be repressed, as if I must break all bonds and hasten to that free and happy land where the fairest days of my life were passed. How often, in reflecting upon the past, has it seemed as if a fire were kindled in my breast, mounting in clear flames to my head to lay my reason in ashes. But I durst not allow this, and with my own sighs extinguished the leaping flames, and, Leuchtmar, shall I confess it? At this moment I am cowardly, and speak so much, because—yes, because I lack the courage to ask one open question. But I will be bold and courageous, I will conquer my poor, foolish heart. Tell me, then, Leuchtmar, what I must know! I sent you to Holland to obtain certain information with regard to the evil reports which have been circulated here. I gave no credit whatever to them, for I knew they were anxious that I should contract a certain marriage, and would therefore crush the love I was cherishing for another person. And yet this other lived within my heart, and when I closed my eyes I saw her before me in all her beauty and loveliness, and at night, when all the troubles of the day were over, and I was alone in my chamber, she was near me, speaking to me and consoling me with the sweet, kind words she whispered to my heart. Ah, you see, Leuchtmar, I am but a very young man, and—courage, courage! out with the question! Have you seen the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine?"

As Frederick William asked this question he walked to the window and turned his back to the room. A pause ensued, then Leuchtmar replied, in gentle, sorrowful tones, "No, gracious sir, I have not seen the Princess."

A shudder passed over the Prince's frame, but he did not turn around.

"Why did you not visit her? Why did you not see her, when I had commissioned you to speak with the Princess herself?"

"Most noble sir, I could not speak with the Princess, for she was no longer at The Hague."

"No longer in Holland?" asked the Elector, and his question sounded like a cry of grief wrung from a tortured heart. "Where was she then? Where was Ludovicka?"

"Most noble sir, you have imposed upon me the duty of always telling you the truth, but at this moment I feel it to be a difficult duty."

"Perform it, Leuchtmar, I require you to do so! Where was the Princess Ludovicka, if she was no longer with her mother?"

"Your highness, the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine has voluntarily forsaken her mother and her family, and at first they knew not whither she had gone."

"And do they know now?"

"The Electress of the Palatinate had received her first letter from the Princess the day before I waited upon her, and, as the Electress had ever honored me with her confidence, she communicated to me the contents of that letter."

"What were they? Quick, tell them quickly, that my heart may not break meanwhile. What was in the letter?"

"It said, most gracious sir, that of her own free will, and out of most tender love for the chosen of her heart, she had forsaken her mother's house because that Princess had refused her consent to her union with the man—these were her own words—with the man whom she loved above all others. It said, moreover, that the Princess had followed this man, the Count d'Entragues, to France, and that for the present she had withdrawn to a convent, preparatory to professing the Catholic religion and then marrying Count d'Entragues."[33]

The Elector uttered a hollow groan, and, putting both hands before his face, as if he were ashamed of what he felt, sank upon a chair, and sat long thus, breaking the silence with occasional sighs and groans.

Leuchtmar dared not interrupt this sacred silence even by a word, or to offer comfort to the agonized heart of the young Prince by words of consolation. He knew that strong heart must first vent its grief in order to gain repose, and that only from within could spring up that consolation which strengthens and sustains.

After a long pause, after a bitter inward conflict, Frederick William allowed his hands to drop, revealing a face pale as death and lips whose corners twitched convulsively.

"Leuchtmar," he said, "this is the baptism by which I am consecrated to my new office. It is, indeed, a baptism of tears, and has torn my wounded heart, I grant you. But such a baptism of tears was needed to wash from my heart all that could derogate from the lofty calling to which alone my whole being should be dedicated. No one on earth can accomplish anything great who has not first received a baptism of grief and tears. By such baptism the soul extricates itself from earthly wishes and selfish desires, and he who would be a thorough man and accomplish great things must be lord of himself, and have no wishes for himself, but to attain glory and honor! And so I now shake the past from my soul as a torn and tattered garment, and would despise myself if even a sensation of pain were left behind. No, no, I am free! My heart is coffined, and I shall close the lid and bid it an eternal farewell!"

"Your heart coffined, your highness!" said Leuchtmar gently. "You think so now, but I tell you it will again rise from the dead, and beat with full ardor and glow, for, God be thanked, the heart of man is a tenacious thing, and dies not from one dagger-thrust. Its wounds can be healed, and then it is so much the stronger because it knows what it can suffer and overcome!"

"Enough now, my friend, enough!" cried Frederick William, shaking his head so violently that his brown locks fluttered in wild disorder. "Thus I shake off an unworthy love and all vain lamentations. Now, Leuchtmar, I am the man, the Elector. A very young man, you will say, but one who has stood the brunt of battle and fire, who in days has lived through years, and consequently is old, for my twenty years count double. Baron von Leuchtmar, I have much to discuss with you, and I summoned you here for important consultations, but stay—a man is without whom I can keep waiting no longer, for his time is valuable, and he who makes a workman wait robs him of his capital. I beg you, Leuchtmar, to open the door and call the jeweler Dusnack."

Leuchtmar hastened to obey this order. As he turned toward the door Frederick William once more passed his hand rapidly over his face, and for a moment pressed it to his eyes. As he drew it away he felt a drop fall burning upon his hand, and it shone there like a bright diamond, but—his eyes were now dry and glittered with the fire of resolution.

"Well, Master Dusnack," exclaimed Frederick William to the approaching jeweler, "have you brought us, as directed, a few seal rings, from which to make our selection?"

"Here they are, your Electoral Highness," replied the jeweler, holding out a little box and handing it open to the Elector. Frederick William examined with interest the bright and sparkling rings, which were in separate compartments, and nodded kindly to the jeweler.

"You are a skillful workman, and your rings please me well," he said. "These things are tastefully designed and prettily executed. You must have very good workmen, and it pleases me that such things are made in our country. For I suppose, of course, these beautiful rings emanate from your own workshop."

"Most gracious sir, I would that it were so, and it is not my fault, indeed, that it is otherwise. I have been long in foreign lands and studied and worked in the first jewelry establishments of Paris. But I find no apprentices here capable of executing such artistic and delicate work, and can only have ordinary gold and silver ware made here, such as forks, spoons, mourning rings, and articles of that kind; but for my finer ornaments and such costly rings as these I must send to Paris and Lyons, where the goldsmith's art flourishes, while it is frightfully depressed here, both for the want of purchasers and artisans."

"Then we must see to it," said Frederick William, "that such times are ushered in, that men shall feel free to purchase golden trinkets, and that clever workers in gold be attracted here, in order that we may dispense with foreign manufactures. As soon as the times become somewhat more tranquil, we, too, will have need of goods of that sort, for not long since all the jewels of our house were stolen.[34] But I tell you, Master Dusnack, we shall only buy such things as have been designed and executed at home. Therefore exert yourself, and procure good workmen. For this time I must needs content myself with foreign wares and select a seal ring. I therefore take this one with the ruby, and you must engrave our country's coat of arms upon it without delay."

"Your highness's orders shall be obeyed," replied the jeweler respectfully. "Does your highness merely wish the coat of arms upon the seal, or would you like a motto added?"

"Yes, master, a motto shall be added, to run thus, 'Lord, make known to me the way in which I should go.' Will you write it down, master, that you may not forget it?"

"Your Electoral Highness, it is not necessary, for you have impressed it on my heart."

"Go then, master, and inscribe it for me right plainly on the stone."

The Elector turned to Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun as soon as the jeweler had taken his departure, saying, "Now for you, friend, and our plans of government."



II.—PLANS FOE THE FUTURE.

"Yes, friend, I want to discuss government affairs with you," continued the Elector, with a faint smile, sinking back in the armchair before the writing table. "Sit down, Leuchtmar, quite close to me, for I shall now disclose to you what no other mortal ear must hear; I shall reveal to you my thoughts and plans. Man is, after all, but a weak and tender creature, and it is a necessity with him to have some trusted soul on whom he can rely for sympathy, and to whom he can tell all that moves his inner being. To me, Leuchtmar, you are that trusted soul, and in this hour I will make known to you the inmost recesses of my heart. You shall learn who I am, what I think, and what are my aspirations, that you may always comprehend and appreciate me, standing with ever-ready succor at my side. For I hope you have no engagements elsewhere, and from this moment enter my service?"

"I have hitherto lived in quiet and retirement at Cologne on the Rhine, waiting for the hour which should summon me to my gracious master's presence, for you are the only Sovereign upon earth whom I would serve, and to you belong my being, thoughts, and all that in me is of energy and skill."

"I have counted on you, Leuchtmar, and well I knew that my reliance would not be in vain. You must aid and sustain me, for I stand in urgent need of wise friends, of diligent, faithful workers, in order to gain the goal which I have placed before me in the future, and to execute the schemes which I have planned. In the first place, Leuchtmar, do you know properly who I am?"

"Yes, your highness," replied Leuchtmar, smiling. "I think I know right well. You are the youthful hero, the Hercules to whom the gods have committed the twelve difficult tasks, that he may prove himself a demi-god, and who now begins his work with the zeal of courage and the inspiration of faith."

"The comparison may be slightly applicable," said the Elector, "and as far as the Augean stable is concerned. I, too, have my stable to cleanse; only it belongs not to Augias, but to Schwarzenberg. Still, I will try to purify it. But I must set about my undertaking with dexterous hands; of that, however, let us speak hereafter. I shall first consider your simile, drawn from the story of Hercules. Do you know, Leuchtmar, the names of my twelve tasks, and their extent? I ask you once more, do you know who I am, or, rather, what my name is? Look, there lies the document which I am just on the point of sending to my good subjects, and by means of which I shall notify them of my assumption of the reins of government. Just read the heading, Leuchtmar."

Leuchtmar took the paper handed him and read: "'We, Frederick William, Marquis of Brandenburg, Lord High Chancellor and Elector of the Holy Roman Empire, Duke of Prussia, Julich, Cleves, Stettin, Pomerania, Cassuben, and Vandalia, as also Duke of Silesia, Croatia, and Jaegerndorf, Burgrave of Nuremberg, Prince of Rugen, Count of Markberg and Ravensberg, Baron of Ravenstein.'"

"Enough!" cried the Elector. "You have now read the outlines of my Herculean task, you now know who I am. A Prince of long titles, not one of which has its foundation in truth and reality. And this is my Herculean task, to make these titles real, and to give a good kernel to these empty nut shells. Look, Leuchtmar, there is a map. Let us examine it and compare it with my titles, for it is a map corresponding finely with these titles, and on which all the counties and provinces pertaining to them are designated. Marquis of Brandenburg, that is my first title, and you would naturally suppose that this, at least, was veritable, for the Mark is the oldest possession of our house, and my ancestor, the Burgrave Frederick von Nuremberg, was invested with it by the Emperor. But what do I obtain from the Mark? Friend and foe have quartered there, until they have changed it into a desert; famine and pestilence hold sway there, and the despairing inhabitants have left their fields untilled and wander about shelterless and hungry. The only prosperous man there, possessed of power and consideration, is the Stadtholder in the Mark, Count Adam von Schwarzenberg. The Mark suffers and groans, but he is of glad heart, and the distress of the people touches him not. What cares he for land or people, save in so far as they conduce to the furtherance of his own ends, and do you know what those ends are?"

"He is an Imperialist and a strict Catholic," said Leuchtmar, "and it must be confessed that he would rather see the whole Mark go to destruction than behold it Protestant and independent."

"Yes, he has let the Mark Brandenburg go to destruction!" cried the Elector, with flashing eyes. "Catholic and Imperialist he would have it. And I can not reach him, he knows very well that I must spare him, and that he, the powerful, opposes me, the powerless. To him have the commandants of the fortresses and the soldiers sworn allegiance; the Emperor protects him, and would esteem it an act of rebellion against imperial majesty itself if I were to depose Schwarzenberg from office. It would be a departure from the course pursued by the Mark for twenty years past, for, since Schwarzenberg has nourished as Stadtholder, the Emperor has been the real lord of the Mark, and not an order nor rescript ever issued from my father's cabinet to which the Emperor had not given his consent, or of which he had not previous knowledge. I must therefore for the present still suffer Schwarzenberg to be lord of the Mark, for I have not power to defy the Emperor and call down upon myself his rage. The Lord High Chancellor and Elector of the Holy Roman Empire must for the present bow humbly to the Emperor, and submit in silence to the evils of his lot. My duchy of Pomerania the Swedes have appropriated to themselves, and I can not, as I should like, wrest it from them by force of arms, for I have no weapons, no soldiers, no army; I must now try to come to an amicable understanding with them, and, if possible, make peace with them. In Julich and Cleves I am duke, too, as my title vouches, but to be so really I must first rescue these countries from the Dutch, and then be able to defend them against the cupidity of France. And my duchies of Silesia, Croatia, and Jaegerndorf? The Emperor has taken possession of them as if they were his own fiefs, and he will be little likely to restore them to the powerless Elector of Brandenburg. Neither will the Saxons easily relinquish to the weak Elector Magdeburg and Halberstadt, which counties they hold enthralled. Alas! Leuchtmar, you see of all my vast possessions I only retain the empty titles."

"But one country your highness has omitted in your enumeration, and there, undoubtedly, you are undisputed Sovereign, no enemy having supplanted you in this land. You are Duke of Prussia, and there, at least, ruler also!"

"Yes, I am Duke of Prussia—that is to say, if King Wladislaus of Poland will condescend to invest me with this duchy, and allow me to go to Warsaw, humbly to kneel to swear allegiance to him, and acknowledge myself one of his vassals. Until he has done so, I am not the legalized ruler even here in Prussia, and the King of Poland will already consider it as an infringement upon his supremacy that I have not forthwith dismissed the Prussian chamber of deputies, which held its sitting in my father's lifetime, but allowed it to prolong its session. There, too, as at the imperial court, I must give fair words, must show myself humble and obedient, so as not to excite untimely enmity against myself, and rouse the mighty against the weak. For what refuge would remain to me, or where would I find support, if the Emperor of Germany and the King of Poland should threaten me with their enmity?"

"I should think the Swedes would be delighted to have your highness for an ally, to stand with them against the Emperor and the German Empire, and the States-General, too, would gladly give you the right hand of confederation."

"Oh, yes, the Swedes would gladly accept me as their ally, provided that I would voluntarily resign to them Pomerania and Ruegen, renouncing all claim to these lands; and the States would gladly extend to me the right hand of fellowship, only I must have first laid down in this hand the duchies of Cleves and Julich as an offering of friendship! But such a thing would I never do, and never shall I peaceably resign the smallest strip of land that should be mine to purchase thereby repose for myself. Up to this time I have enjoyed only the title to my lands, but it must and shall be now the purpose of my whole life to substantiate these claims, and not merely to conquer back what is my own, but, an' it please God, to enlarge my territories and give to them unity and compactness. I am now a Prince only by my armorial bearings, but I will be a veritable Prince. I now wear only the most delapidated semblance of a Prince's mantle, inflated by hollow wind, but I shall change it into a purple mantle, such as no German Prince would be ashamed of, which every one in the German Empire shall respect, yea, even the Emperor himself."

"And you will gain your end," cried Leuchtmar, "yes, you will gain it. It stands written on your lofty brow, it shines forth from your fiery eyes, and is spoken by every feature of your noble, energetic face. You will gain your end. From the confusion and chaos of the present times you will emerge as a distinguished, mighty Prince; out of nothingness and disorder you will construct a powerful state, and to your towering titles give a firm basis of strength and truth!"

"Amen! God grant it!" said Frederick William, piously lifting his large eyes to Heaven. "It seems now, indeed, as if it were an unattainable goal," he continued, after a pause, "and to no one else would I confess it, for I would only become the scorn and derision of my enemies."

"But the delight of your friends!" cried Leuchtmar, deeply moved, "the invigorator and uplifter of your friends!" "Friends, say you? Where are my friends? Look abroad throughout the whole German Empire, the whole of Europe, and then tell me where my friends are. I have not even friends in my next-door neighbors, not even in my nearest relations! Yes, were I rich and influential, had I protection to give and benefits to dispense, then would the Princes far and near gladly bethink themselves of the claims of consanguinity, and overwhelm me with civilities and attentions. But I am powerless, and they dread lest I should need their protection and their influence; therefore are they forgetful of family ties! But they shall find themselves mistaken in me, my dear relatives! They shall be forced some day to acknowledge that the Elector of Brandenburg is self-sustaining, and stands erect without the aid of foreign supports. You look at me doubtfully, and perhaps think me a braggart, promising great things which I may never be able to perform? It would seem so, indeed, now, for where are the means for accomplishing such aims? Wretched and in the process of dissolution is all about me, nowhere do I see determined friends, efficient followers!"

"Oh, gracious sir, in that you go too far! You know yourself how much Schwarzenberg is hated in all your territories, how ardently all patriots long for his deposition from the government; for the league with the Emperor is detestable to everybody, and fear of Catholic domination and desire for the Swedish alliance prevail among all your subjects."

"Yes," cried the Elector, "adherents of Sweden there are in my dominions, and Schwarzenberg has indeed opponents enough. But he has friends as well, whom he has purchased with his good money and his protection. But tell me, where is an Electoral party, one deserving the name by its unity and determination, a party which looks not to the right or left, but straight ahead in the direction that I shall take? The old friends of my house are dispersed, hunted into banishment, exiled, or dead; on whom else could I depend? All positions in the army and government, all offices has Schwarzenberg filled with his own creatures; and should I venture to step, in their way, and endeavor to effect their and his ruin, I might easily come to ruin myself. In what direction, then, can I look for help?"

"To yourself, most noble sir, to your own mind and heart!" cried Leuchtmar, with enthusiasm.

"It is as you say, I should be a fool were I to seek protection elsewhere. Protection from the Emperor, the empire, Poland? Protection from comrades in the faith or blood relations? My empire is within myself, and by God's help the foundations shall be laid! 'Man forges his own fortunes.' That is a good old proverb. Well, I will try to be a good smith. I have played anvil long enough, and hard enough have been the blows dealt me by Count Schwarzenberg. I shall now try being the fist that guides the hammer, and I think I have a tolerably strong fist, that will be able so to wield the hammer as to fashion for myself a worthy scepter."

"A great and noble task has God committed to your highness," said Leuchtmar; "to you is it given to create your own state, and what you shall be hereafter you will owe to your own powers."

"And to the assistance of true servants, tried friends and followers!" cried the Elector, cordially extending his hand to his faithful counselor, "although now I only know two men on whom I can rely—yourself and Burgsdorf. But together we form no contemptible trio, and I am confident that great results will follow our efforts, and, in order that you may see what I am projecting, tarry here while I call in old Burgsdorf."

With alert step the Elector moved to the door and opened it. "Colonel von Burgsdorf!" he cried, then turned, strode through the cabinet and seated himself in the armchair before his father's writing table.

In the door of the entrance hall now appeared Colonel von Burgsdorf, his broad, red face wearing an embarrassed expression. Standing still in the doorway, he looked across at the Elector, who, his back half turned, seemed to take no notice of his approach.

"No doubt," said Burgsdorf to himself, "he has had me summoned in order to give me my discharge; he has not yet forgotten how desperate I was in the year '38. It is over with you, Conrad, and you can go home, because, like the old ass that you are, in sooth, you uttered aloud the pent-up agony of your soul!"

But while he was talking thus to himself with deep resentment, his countenance expressed nothing but devotion and anxiety; in humble, soldierly attitude he stood in the door. The Elector had his eyes fixed upon some papers lying on the table before him, and seemed absorbed in their perusal. Leuchtmar at last ventured to accost him.

"Gracious sir," he said softly, "Colonel von Burgsdorf, whom you called, has come in and is waiting for your orders."

"He is waiting!" cried the Elector. "Then I shall certainly have to ask his pardon in the end, for well I know that Colonel Burgsdorf does not understand waiting."

"Without doubt," repeated Burgsdorf to himself, "he has summoned me merely to give me my discharge."

"Colonel von Burgsdorf!" now cried the Elector, turning half toward him with grave, severe countenance, "just tell me how strong was the regiment which you enlisted for the Electoral army last year?"

"Most gracious sir, I enlisted two thousand four hundred men."

"That is to say," cried the Elector sternly, "you obtained the bounty money for recruiting two thousand four hundred men; but I would be glad to learn of you how many of those men actually existed."

"Your highness," stammered Burgsdorf in confusion, "I do not understand what your grace means. If I obtained bounty money for two thousand four hundred men, they certainly existed."

"So one would suppose, indeed," replied the Elector; "yet it can not have been, for before me lies a letter from Count Schwarzenberg to my father, and only hear what the Stadtholder in the Mark writes. Leuchtmar, come here please and read."

Leuchtmar hastened forward, and, taking the paper which the Elector held out to him, read: "'It is to be lamented that the officers contrive to pocket so much press money and hardly produce one out of every six men said to have been enlisted. Colonel von Kehrdorf received pay and rations for twelve hundred men, and yet had not over eighty; General von Klitzing's regiment ought to be two thousand strong, and in reality numbers only six hundred; Colonel Conrad von Burgsdorf gives out that he has two thousand four hundred recruits, and there are not quite six hundred of them.'"

"That is a lie—a base lie!" cried Burgsdorf, whose face was purple with passion. "The Stadtholder in the Mark has always been my enemy and opponent, and if he maintains that I only enlisted six hundred men—"

"He maintains something quite untrue," interrupted the Elector; "but he maintains no such thing. You interrupted Leuchtmar; let him read to the end, and hear the conclusion." Leuchtmar read on: "'And if you pick perhaps two hundred able-bodied men out of the six hundred, there remain four hundred feeble, sickly fellows, who would fall down like dead flies on the very first march.'"[35]

"You see that Schwarzenberg does not maintain that you enlisted six hundred able-bodied men."

"Your highness!" cried Burgsdorf, trembling with passion, "this I see, that you have had me called here in order to dismiss me, to banish me forever from your presence—and yet I have served you so faithfully, and have always hoped that you would forgive me."

"Forgive?" asked the Elector. "Had I anything to forgive in you?"

"Most gracious sir, that time after your return from The Hague I let my old heart carry me away; it was wholly wild and ungovernable and forgot the deference due your grace."

"Ah, I remember now," said the Elector, gently nodding his head. "That time when you wanted to make a revolution and required me to place myself at your head. You wanted to make of the poor little Electoral Prince a mighty rebel, and were even so kind as to promise that when with your help he had crushed Schwarzenberg he should become his father's prime minister and Stadtholder in the Mark."

"Your highness," cried Burgsdorf indignantly, "those were well-meant schemes, and originated in the excess of our love for you."

"Only, if I had adopted them, my father would have easily subdued the princely rebel with the Emperor's support. The Stadtholder in the Mark would then have had the pleasure of seeing upon the scaffold the Prince who had dared rebel against his own father, as befell Prince Carlos of Spain, when he revolted against his father, King Philip. I thought a little about that unhappy, misguided Prince, and profited by his example. You probably did not think of him, Burgsdorf, and fell into a great rage. I am glad you remember that day, for actually I had forgotten it."

"Most gracious sir, I would like to bite out my own tongue and swallow it," screamed Burgsdorf, raving. "I am a genuine old ass, and you do well to dismiss me forthwith; for I deserve nothing better, and am served quite right. Just speak out at once, your highness. I am discharged, am I not?"

"Quietly, Burgsdorf!" commanded the Elector sternly. "I am no longer the Electoral Prince at whom you can scold and bluster, as you did that time in the palace of Berlin."

"You always go back to the old story," groaned Burgsdorf.

"And you," said Frederick William, "you are just as impatient as you were then. You cried murder and death, because the Electoral Prince would not do your will! I told you—I remember that very well now—I told you that I would learn and wait. I begged you to do the same and wait also. But you, you would not wait; you cried out that you had already waited twenty years, and that now your patience was exhausted. You had no compassion on the youth of eighteen years, who had just come out of a foreign land, and hardly knew how to distinguish friend from foe because he was not acquainted with the condition of things. And yet you were already old and in your twenty years of waiting ought to have learned a little prudence! But you had learned nothing at all and could not wait, and gave me up with wild impatience because I would not be guilty of criminal disrespect toward my father."

"Most gracious sir, you cut me to the quick! Each of your words is a dagger aimed right at my heart. Let me go; let it bleed in solitude and retirement."

And old von Burgsdorf turned and went to the door.

"Stay there!" called out the Elector in commanding tone, arising from his seat and standing proudly erect. Burgsdorf, who had just laid his hand upon the door latch, let it glide down, and stood abashed and humble.

"You gave me up and forsook me that time in Berlin," continued Frederick William, "scolded and upbraided me, merely because I wished to learn and wait. That proves to me that you have never learned and never waited. Learn now, Colonel Conrad von Burgsdorf. Withdraw into that window recess, and wait until I speak to you again and tell you my decision with regard to you." And once more the Elector opened the door of the antechamber and called Chamberlain Werner von Schulenburg into his cabinet.



III.—DIPLOMATIC MISSIONS.

"Schulenburg," said the Elector to the advancing chamberlain, "you will set out immediately. Go to Berlin and inform the Stadtholder in the Mark, Count von Schwarzenberg, of my father's death. Announce to his excellency that it is my urgent and pressing request, that he continue to burden himself with the duties of the Stadtholdership."

An involuntary growl issued from the window where Burgsdorf was stationed. The Elector took no notice of it, and proceeded: "Moreover, request the Stadtholder in my name to write to me immediately, advising me what to do with regard to the Regensburg Diet, because we can not now with the required dispatch rightly apprehend and maturely consider the matter on account of our great affliction."[36]

A second growl issued from the window, and called a slight, passing smile to Frederick William's face.

"Then," continued the Elector, "notify the Stadtholder that I shall he glad to retain the present governors and garrisons of the forts; but that it would please me if we could inflict some injury upon the enemy at one place or the other; but, mindful of his hitherto glorious and successful management, I feel that I need only direct his attention in a special manner to the fortresses."

Old Burgsdorf's growl now became almost a shriek of pain. "It is unheard of," he said, in quite an audible voice.

With a proud movement of the head the Elector turned to him. "Burgsdorf," he said, "you were to learn to wait; be silent, then, as becomes an humble scholar."

Again the Elector turned to the chamberlain. "That is all I have to say to you, Schulenburg. I hope you have forgotten nothing, and that you will punctiliously execute every command."

"I trust that your highness is convinced of my zeal and fidelity," replied the chamberlain, bowing reverentially. "I shall punctiliously execute all your orders, and have only to ask further when I am to set off?"

"Immediately," said the Elector, "and travel post haste. Farewell! But hark! Schulenburg, you have obtained my official dispatches, now I shall add a little private errand. When you have communicated all this to the Stadtholder, exactly as directed, then converse a little with him in the most friendly manner, and in the course of conversation, as if of your own accord, sound Count Schwarzenberg as to his inclination to pay us a speedy visit in Prussia, the better to consult with us concerning the onerous duties of the administration. Then ask him casually, but in quite an innocent manner, whom he would recommend meanwhile as his substitute.[37] And now, God speed you, Schulenburg, go and carry out all my orders to the letter. As you pass out, send in to me the two gentlemen waiting in the antechamber."

With a condescending nod of the head, he offered his hand to the chamberlain, who pressed it fervently to his lips, and then left the cabinet with hasty steps.

"And now for you, gentlemen," cried the Elector, advancing a few paces to meet Herr von Kreytz and Herr von Kospoth, who were just entering the cabinet. "I have an important commission to intrust to both of you. You are both to proceed to Poland and announce my father's death to King Wladislaus. That is your affair specially, John von Kospoth. You know how to frame courteous speeches, and will inform the King that my father (peace be to his ashes!) has not been a more submissive vassal than his successor Frederick expects to be; you will tell him that the Dukes of Prussia are very faithful and obedient servants to the King of Poland, and know very well that they should be his Majesty's most humble vassals."

Again a passionate murmur proceeded from the window, and Burgsdorf's flushed, angry countenance appeared between the silk curtains. The Elector saw this by a furtive glance, and again something like a smile passed over his countenance.

Turning to the second gentleman, he continued: "You, Wolfgang von Kreytz, will present my most submissive and respectful greetings to the King of Poland, and acquaint him with the fact that I take my predecessor's place as duke in the dukedom of Prussia. Inform him that I recognize the King as lord paramount, and humbly sue for investiture. Tell him that I have hitherto forborne to perform the functions of ruler, and committed the government to a board of regency, and am meanwhile striving with the greatest diligence to acquire a knowledge of the rights and privileges of the land. Pay, both of you, the most polite and friendly court to the King and all his ministers. Asseverate everywhere that we know right well that our succession in Prussia depends wholly upon the King's choice, and that we would naturally desire to present ourselves in person and swear allegiance to his Majesty. And after you have impressed all these statements fully upon his mind, add that to our deepest regret we can not come immediately, on account of the bad condition of our hereditary estates and manifold business pertaining to the Roman Empire, which just now prevent us from undertaking the journey. Then petition for a gracious dispensation from personal attendance, and request his Majesty to grant a written order for the feoffment. Should the King make known to you through his counselors that he will not grant this written order, then desire a private audience of the King, and represent to him that we have been forced to assume the government, and deprecate his displeasure. Wait also upon the most prominent ministers, and represent the same thing to them. By your eloquence and zeal I hope that you will accomplish your purpose, and bring me the investiture. To this end spare neither flattery nor fair words."