Chapter XI: Book III: I.--New Plans (3)

He bowed low before the Elector, and with a like salutation bade farewell to the Electress and the Princesses. After greeting the count with a smile and a wave of his hand, he hurried with light elastic step through the apartment to the door.

IV.--THE DONATION.

When the Electoral Prince left his father's cabinet he found without the officers and servants of the household arranged in solemn order. They received him with a thrice-repeated cheer that was loud enough to penetrate through the door into the Electoral apartment, and to reach the Elector's ears in a manner by no means pleasant.

Affectionately and smilingly Frederick William thanked them. He could call each one of them by name, and charmed them all by recalling little incidents of his earlier days in which they had borne a part.

"I hope we shall always remain good friends," he said, when he had reached the door of the long entrance hall, "and once more I thank you for your friendly greeting."

Old Jock, who stood next to the door, and who looked quite grand in his artfully patched livery of state--old Jock had already just opened his mouth for another thundering hurrah, when the Electoral Prince laid his hand gently upon his shoulder.

"Hush, Jock, hush! do not shout," he said, loud enough to be heard by everybody. "It is enough that I read my welcome in your eyes, and not necessary for your lips to pronounce the words aloud. Our much-loved and gracious father is sick and suffering, and we must not therefore allow his rest to be disturbed by loud noises. Be quiet and silent, therefore, and only believe me when I say that I know I am welcome to you all!"

He gave them one more friendly nod, and stepped out upon the long corridor, on the other side of which lay his own apartments. Quickly he went on, opened the door of the antechamber with a vigorous pressure of his hand, and entered. The trunks and other baggage lay in wild disorder, heaped up in the outer hall, and old Dietrich, with a few other servants and lackeys, was busied in untying parcels and unpacking. The Electoral Prince went hurriedly past, and entered his sleeping room. Here, too, he found all in confusion; the dust lay thick upon the unwieldy old furniture, whose cushions were covered with faded and even here and there ragged tapestry. From the walls, hung with discolored papering, a few old ancestral portraits looked gravely and gloomily down upon him, and their melancholy eyes seemed to ask him what he wanted here, and why he had come to awaken them from their repose, and disturb the dust which had been collecting for years. It seemed to the Prince as if he heard this inhospitable question quite clearly uttered by the lips of his ancestor Albert Achilles, before whose picture he was just passing, and whose large, glittering eyes seemed to look out in defiance. Frederick William stopped and looked at his forefather with a sad smile. "I have come much against my will, Elector Albert Achilles," he said. "I assure you, very much against my will, and if I did not think of the future, I would go away again and _never_ come back. But for the sake of the future the present must be endured; therefore forgive me, my great, valiant ancestor, and believe me I will do you honor!"

He nodded to the picture and strode on, advancing into the next room, which was to be his study. Here everything was still exactly as he had left it almost four years ago. The old furniture stood unmoved in its familiar places; there was still the brown varnished writing table at which he had formerly applied himself to his studies, in company with his tutor Leuchtmar von Kalkhun; beside it stood the simple, rude book shelves, and on them, covered with dust and cobwebs, the old leather-bound volumes from which he had drunk in knowledge and wisdom. Before both windows hung, just as then, the dark red silken curtains, only that the sun had partially deprived them of their original coloring and interwoven sickly streaks of yellow. The old sofa, too, was yet in existence with its sleek brown leather covering, and by its side stood the two leather armchairs, with their high, straight backs and awkwardly turned feet. No one had taken the trouble to repair these inroads of dilapidation, and, long as they had been expecting the Electoral Prince, no preparations whatever had been made for his reception. Four years had passed over these chambers without leaving any further trace of their presence than dust and cobwebs, and faded stripes on cushion and curtain. Sighing, the Electoral Prince threw himself into one of the two armchairs. The old piece of furniture creaked under him, as if by this sound it would greet him and remind him of the past. He leaned his head against the back, whose leather cooled his temples as if a cold hand had been laid upon the brow of him who had just come home. Slowly his glance swept through the room, and it seemed to him as if he saw the four last years glide by like phantom shapes through the lonely, dreary, and dusty chamber. They looked at him with wan smiles and lusterless eyes, and hovered past shadowlike, leaving behind for him nothing but dust, nothing but a hardly cicatrized wound. Hardly cicatrized!

Sometimes it bled yet, this wound of his past. Sometimes he thought that there was no healing for it, that it would never close, and that its pain would never cease.

Just so thought he as the shadows of the four years floated by him through that gloomy, dusty room. Just so thought he, when the youngest of these phantoms paused beside him, threw back her gray veil of mist, and under it disclosed to him a beautiful, rosy female face, with flaming eyes, pouting lips, and lovely smile, when she raised her hand and beckoned to him, whispering: "Leave all behind and come to me! _I_ am waiting for you! _I_ love you! Oh, come to me!"

How sweetly enticing were these whispered sounds, how burning was the pain in the wound but barely healed! Again it began to bleed, again tears rose to his eyes. He was not ashamed of them, and yet, as he felt them flow burning down his cheeks, he stretched out his hands deprecatingly to the phantom with the rosy cheeks and fascinating smile, to the shadow of the last year, and murmured: "Away from me! Come not near me, to tempt my heart! I may not follow you--I may not, and I _will_ not."

"And I _will_ not!" he repeated quite aloud, and jumped up from his easychair, shaking his head defiantly and proudly, like a roused lion.

"What will you not?" asked a soft voice behind him, and when he turned round he saw at his back Baron von Leuchtmar, who had just entered, and whose mild, gentle glances rested upon him with tender expression.

"Leuchtmar!" cried the Prince, hastening to meet him with both hands outstretched. "God be praised, that you are here, that you come to me at this moment! Ah! would that you had not left me at Spandow, but had remained at my side!"

"No, my Prince! It was proper that the eyes of the people should have greeted you alone, and that the boy, whom they had seen go off at the side of his tutor, should now appear to them again as a bold and independent young man, who relies upon his own powers only, and has no longer any tutor at his side, but his own sense of duty and his conscience. But why so sad, Prince Frederick William? Your journey was verily a triumphal procession; like a Roman imperator you entered your father's city, and now do I find you here, solitary, with troubled countenance, with tears upon your cheeks?"

"With tears upon my cheeks?" repeated the Prince; "with imprecations, with wrath, and sorrow in my heart. Oh, friend, why were you not with me? You would have saved me perhaps from the bitterness of the last hour. You would have stood by me, would have encouraged me!"

"My God, what has happened then?"

"It has happened that I was received as if I were some criminal returning after a course of sin!" cried Frederick William, with indignant pain. "It has happened that they have treated me as if I were a rioter and inciter of rebellion, who had come hither with criminal designs, at the head of a mob, and as a captain of robbers, who had attacked his Sovereign in his stronghold. It has happened that they allowed me to sue for pardon upon my knees without lifting me up--that they have treated me like an abandoned villain, from whom they expected each hour to witness some new out-break."

"But consider, my Prince, that you had reason to expect that your reception would be ungracious, and that it was your father from whom these trials would come to you."

"No, not from my father, but from _him_--that evil spirit who, with his cold smile and mocking composure, stood at my father's side! He has poisoned my father's heart with jealousy and hate, he has filled it with mistrust toward his only son, and sowed discord, that he may himself reap a harvest from the hatred! And he was witness of my humiliation, and I saw how he looked down upon me with scornful superiority as I knelt before my father and pleaded in vain for one word of love from his lips! But _he_ had withered this word upon his lips, and only for _him_ were words of tenderness and veneration there! Only for _him_ acknowledgments, confidence, and love! As he stood there with cold and haughty face at the side of my poor father, who, stooping and insignificant, cowered below him--oh, so far below him in his easychair--I felt it in every nerve of my heart, in every fiber of my brain, that _he_ and _he_ alone is ruling lord here, the commander and Sovereign; and that he who will not bow and cringe before him, will by him be hurled into the dust and trodden upon! They all bow before him--_all_! He is like a magician, who by the magnetic glances of his eyes subjects to his will all who approach him, and makes the stoutest hearts soft and pliant, so that like wax they allow themselves to be molded by his forming hands. Even my mother, who is his enemy, who has been battling against him for twenty years, even she is conquered by him, and he has become her master and forces her to his will. She knows not at all that she has fallen within the circle of his magic, yet is, like all the rest, a mere tool in his hands. But she feels it not, and fancies herself free, while she lies bound, and has no will of her own in his presence. I have seen it, I have felt it, and it has filled my heart with unutterable woe, with raging anger. She felt not at all the shame and humiliation under which I almost expired; she came not to my aid, for the magician was there, and in his presence my mother forgot her son so recently come back to her, and _he_ was the center around which all turned, _he_ was master of the situation, and before _him_ all shrank into wretched nothingness. He charmed the hearts which had remained cold at my reception, charmed them with the prospect of a _fête_, which, as he said, he was to give in my honor, and they believed the mockery, and allowed themselves to be touched by that noble condescension, and felt not the cruel boasting with which he solemnizes the return of him who is a thorn in his flesh, a thorn which he is firmly determined to pluck out, and tread under foot! I came here humble, poor, and empty-handed, and _he_ solemnizes my return by offering presents to my mother and my sisters! And they accept them, feel not at all the degradation, and will appear at the _fête_ in clothes with which my enemy, my adversary, my murderer has presented them!"

"Prince, you go too far. Your hatred carries you away."

"No, I do not go too far!" cried the Prince, beside himself. His countenance was deadly pale, his eyes flashed, and his whole being seemed pervaded by the fire of wrath and hatred. "No, I do not go too far, and my hatred does not carry me away! He is the evil demon of my house--of my country! He is to blame for all the disasters of the last twenty years, for all the humiliation and shame by which my family has been visited. The Mark is to be ruined--that is his end, that is his aim; the Electoral house of Brandenburg must die out--that is his hope; and he will leave untried no means whereby this hope may become reality. He has already tried once to murder me,[22] and he will try it again. A dagger's point lurks in each glance that he fixes upon me, a drop of poison in each word that he directs to me. If I stood alone with him upon the summit of a tower, he would hurl me down, and then afterward follow my coffin with a thousand tears! And my father would lean upon him, and thank God that only his son had been snatched from him, not his friend, his favorite; and my mother would weep for me, and yet go about in mourning which he had presented to her, and she would esteem it a peculiar act of amiability if he should exert himself to divert her mind and raise her spirits. No voice would be raised against him, and no one would venture to accuse him, for my father himself would protect him, and the grace and favor of the Emperor would speak him clear of any suspicion. He is my master, my lord--that is what fills me with rage and indignation; and I will surely die of this if the count does not succeed in dispatching me first, and putting me out of the way."

"He will not venture to attempt that, for he knows public opinion would accuse and denounce him as the murderer."

"What cares he for public opinion, what asks he about it--_he_ who has power to repress it, _he_ who stands so secure that it can not touch _him_?"

"Nobody stands so high, Prince, that public opinion can not reach him and dash him into the depths below, for public opinion is the voice of the nation, and the voice of the nation is the voice of God! And believe me, Prince, this voice will one day accuse and sentence him."

"Yes, one day perhaps, when he has thrust me out of the way and murdered me, when my father has gone to his last home, when the Emperor has pronounced the Mark of Brandenburg an unincumbered fief, and bestowed it as an act of grace upon Count Schwarzenberg or his son. Oh, I know all his plans, and I know that no moment of my life is henceforth secure--know that I am a victim of death if prudence and cunning do not save me! I thought of all this during my long journey to this place. I have weighed all, pondered all, and my whole future lay before me like a white sheet of paper. I saw a hand unroll it, and with bloody letters inscribe the word 'Death'; but I saw this word blotted out by a cautious finger, and, ere it was written to the end, replaced by the word 'Life' in characters small and hardly visible. Yes, I _will_ live, _will_ reign, _will_ have fame, honor, and influence, _will_ make a name for myself! Leuchtmar, I have left behind in Holland my youth, my hopes, my dreams, my heart! I come here as a man, despite my eighteen years, as a man who from the wreck of his youth will save only this: the future and fame! A man, who has suffered so much, that he can say of himself: I defy pain, and it has no longer any power over me! I defy life, and _will_ conquer it! Yes, Leuchtmar, I _will_ conquer it; and although I no longer love it, I do not mean to allow it to be snatched away from me. Hear me, friend, for to-day is the last time for a long while that I may speak openly and candidly to you. I entreat you, guide of my youth, to preserve for me your friendship and your faith. I beseech you never to lose confidence in me, and, if ever a doubt should intrude itself with regard to me, to remember this hour, in which I have laid bare to you my heart, and in which you have been a witness to my indignation and grief, my excitement and hatred! You are familiar with my countenance, friend; impress it upon your memory, in order that you may never forget it, even if you should not see it for a long time again. Look once more in my eyes, and read in my glances my love and reverence for you!"

"I do look into your eyes, son of my heart," said Leuchtmar, deeply moved. "I look through your eyes into your soul, into your heart, and read therein great determination and heroic aims. Strive after them, my favorite, and when the present seems to you dark and gloomy, then lift your eye to the glittering star, which hovers over you and is your future. To endure evil, and still to remain joyful and valiant, therein lies true heroism. To turn from the dust of earthly needs, to step over it with head held heavenward, thereby is true faith proved. God bless you, my son! Be brave, be wise, be true! Trust in yourself, your friends, your people, and your God; then is the future yours, and you will overcome all your foes, and will triumph over the proud man who now thinks that he triumphs over you. I said to you, be brave, be wise, be true. I forgot one thing, though, which I shall now add--_be circumspect_! Remember that oftentimes it is not the sword which carries off the victory, but cunning; remember Brutus, who freed Rome."

"Oh, my friend, you have spoken truth," exclaimed the Prince; "you have read to the bottom of my soul, and understood my inmost thoughts. Now am I glad and full of confidence, for my friend and teacher will never doubt me. And hear one thing more, my Leuchtmar. You must accept a memento of this hour, a memento which I prepared even before my departure from The Hague, and which shall be to you a proof of my gratitude. I am poor and powerless, and as I build all my hopes upon the future, so must I do with my presents as well. You must accept from me a gift of my future, friend. I know full well that what you have done for me can not be recompensed, but I would so gladly testify my gratitude to you, and therefore I give you this paper!"

He drew forth a paper from his pocketbook, and handed it to Leuchtmar with a friendly smile. "Take it and read," he said.

Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun took the paper, and fastened his eyes upon the words, which were inscribed in large letters on the outside.

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

The Electoral Prince nodded. "A deed of expectancy, written with my own hand and sealed with my own signet ring. Yes, yes, my friend, I have nothing to give away but expectations; yet if the Electoral Prince should ever become Elector, he will convert these expectations into reality and truth. Now unfold the paper, and see what manner of expectation it holds out."

"An act, donating the feudal tenure of Neuenhof, lying within the territories of Cleves!" cried Leuchtmar joyfully. "Oh, my dear Prince, that is truly a princely gift!"

"Yet it is not the Prince, but the grateful scholar who gives it to you," said Frederick William, "and in proof of this I have written these words, which I will read to you myself." He bent over the paper, and read: "We have voluntarily and with due consideration promised and engaged to give to Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun this estate of Neuenhof, out of the particular and friendly affection which we bear to him. We also swear that if we hereafter attain to power and authority, and our much-esteemed Romilian von Leuchtmar be to our sorrow cut off by death, we in the same way will this estate to his eldest son, and grant him the enjoyment of all that we assigned and destined for his father in his lifetime."[23]

"That is indeed to carry happiness and reward beyond the grave!" cried Leuchtmar, with tears in his eyes. "Oh, I thank you, my Prince, thank you from my inmost soul, for myself and my children!"

"You have nothing at all to thank me for, friend," said the Prince. "I shall ever be much more in your debt. If, however, I some day become a good Prince to my country and a father to my people, then you must reflect that this is the return I make to you, my teacher, my educator! You see I hope in the future, and think that I shall succeed in evading murderous designs and fulfill my aims. But, indeed, your warning I may never forget, and circumspect I _must_ be first of all. Wear a mask, as Brutus did! Let me embrace you once more, friend Leuchtmar; look me once more in the eye. And now--I hear some one coming! Farewell, Leuchtmar! I put on my mask and not for a moment can I withdraw it from my features."

V.--BRUTUS.

The door was now opened, a valet entered and announced, "Her highness the Electress!" And before the Electoral Prince had time to advance, the Electress had entered the room.

"I come to welcome you once more, my Frederick!" she cried, stretching out her arms to her son. "Entirely without witnesses, simply as his mother would I greet my son, and tell him how happy I am that he is once more here."

She flung her arms around her son's neck, and pressed him ardently to her bosom. Baron Leuchtmar, who upon the Electress's approach had stepped aside, now crept softly through the apartment to the door, and was already in the act of opening it, when the Electress quickly raised her head and looked around.

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

"I may not presume by my presence to disturb the confidential discourse between the Electress and her son."

"You do not disturb us at all, for you belong to us, Leuchtmar," replied Charlotte Elizabeth, nodding kindly to him. "On the contrary, I will tell you that I knew you were here, and came here on that very account, in order to salute you without witnesses, and to have a private conversation with you and my son. For well I know, Leuchtmar, that we may confide in you, and that you belong to _us_--that is to say, to the enemies of Schwarzenberg, to the enemies of the Imperialists and Catholics, to the friends of the Swedes and Reformers."

"Your highness may be well assured that I return home just as I went away," said Leuchtmar earnestly--"that is to say, an upright Protestant, a true Brandenburger, and a determined opponent of those who concluded the peace of Prague, and thereby separated the Elector of Brandenburg from the Swedes, and made him wholly and solely subservient to the Emperor's interests."

"You will not name _him_, the evildoer, who has brought this to pass," cried the Electress, "but I will name him: it is Count Schwarzenberg! It is the Stadtholder in the Mark, who has brought upon us all this mischief and disgrace, who has sundered us from our nearest blood relations, the family of the Swedish King, and has leagued us with and subjected us to those who are our sworn enemies and adversaries, the Imperialists, the Austrians. Oh, my son! promise me that you will some day take vengeance for the ignominy and humiliation which we must now undergo. Swear in this first hour of your return home, solemnly joining hands with me, that as soon as you come into power the first act of your government shall be to renounce allegiance to the Emperor and to ally yourself again with the Swedes, our natural allies."

She stretched out her right hand to her son. "Swear, my son!" she cried, solemnly, "give me your hand upon it!"

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

"Forgive me, my dearest mother," he said, "forgive me; but I can not swear, for I do not know whether I could keep my oath! May the good God long preserve my gracious father's life, and grant him a glorious reign. But if hereafter, and surely to my deepest regret, duty and the right of Succession deliver into my hands the reins of government, then I must guide them, as circumstances direct, as determined by the contingencies of the times and the good of the country; and I dare not bind myself beforehand by any given word or by promises."

"You refuse, my son, to promise me that you will make amends for all the evil done by that wicked enemy of your house, your family, and your country?"

"Dearest mother, I know not of whom you speak, and who it is that has burdened himself with so heinous a crime."

With impulsive movement the Electress laid her hand upon his arm, and looked him steadily in the eye.

"Are you dissembling, or is that the truth?" she asked. "You do not know of whom I speak? You do not know who is the enemy of your house and family?"

"I am trying in vain to study it out, mother, and I beg you not to be angry with me on that account, for your grace must reflect that I have been absent almost four years, and am therefore a little unacquainted with the situation of affairs here. If you had addressed that question to me before my departure, most assuredly I should have replied without hesitation, 'It is Count Schwarzenberg!' But I have since then found out that I had done the count injustice in many things through my inexperience and want of foresight; that he is a very great and experienced statesman and politician, who with his far-seeing glances can discern much more clearly than I with my unpracticed eyes the relations of things. Who knows but that, after all, the peace of Prague has been a real blessing to our land. When I behold its present pitiable and languishing condition as a neutral, how can I avoid reflecting with horror upon what might have been the state of things had we joined any decided war party. Had we sided with the Swedes, the enmity of the powerful Emperor, vastly surpassing us in material resources, would long since have destroyed us root and branch, and my dear father would have most probably shared the same lamentable fate as the Elector of the Palatinate, his brother-in-law, or the Margrave of Liegnitz and Jägerndorf, his cousin. He must have wandered with wife and children an exile in foreign lands, or died of grief among strangers. On the other hand, had we sided with the Emperor against the Swedes, a raging, implacable foe would have quartered himself in the heart of our dominions, and not merely Pomerania, but the Mark and the duchy of Prussia would have been overrun-by his warlike hordes. But on my journey hither I have witnessed the misery and unspeakable wretchedness of our land, and asked myself with heavy, sorrowing heart what would have become of our unhappy country in times of war if neutrality could reduce it to such poverty and plunge it in such want and suffering. And then I was forced to acknowledge that Count Schwarzenberg had acted right well as Stadtholder in the Mark in wishing, before all things, to preserve the Mark intrusted to him from yet greater calamity, by holding it to that neutrality, being alike impartial between the Emperor and the Swedes. I therefore begged his pardon in my heart for having often accused him unjustly before, for he is indeed a faithful and zealous servant to his master, and especially endeavors to further his interests, to maintain his position, and to console him in these times of affliction. I see, too, that not merely the Elector holds him in high estimation, and honors him as his true and valued counselor and friend, but that my mother as well has taken him into her favor, and that she has quite recovered from the mistrust with which she previously regarded him. For surely it is a proof of great favor when the Electress allows the count to offer presents of dresses to herself and her daughters, and no one of us can mistrust _him_, who so cordially rejoices over my return that he volunteers to celebrate it by a splendid festival. The whole Electoral family has accepted the invitation to this festival, and thereby prove to Berlin, yea, to the whole country, that we are on the best terms with the Stadtholder, and that nothing has transpired which could shake our confidence in him.'"

The Electress had listened to her son with ever-growing amazement. Her glances had grown more and more indignant; she had often turned from her son to Leuchtmar, as if to read in his features whether or not he shared her astonishment and irritation. Now, when the Prince was silent, she stepped across to Leuchtmar, and laid her hand upon his arm.

"Leuchtmar," she asked with trembling voice, "is he in earnest? Has he actually altered so entirely? Has he really gone over to our enemies and adversaries?"

"Most gracious lady, the Electoral Prince is by far too tender a son ever to become alienated from his mother," replied the baron earnestly.

"He speaks the truth, my dearest mother," exclaimed Frederick William, nearing his mother. "Never could I alter toward you, never forget the gratitude and love I owe you, never go over to your enemies and adversaries. But why should we carry politics into private life, and what have Swedes and Imperialists, Catholics and Reformers to do with our family life and our domestic circle? Let us hand politics over to those whose duty it is to deal with them; let us not seek to meddle in the government, for we have no right to do so, and should step aside for those who understand matters far better than we do, and who manage the machine of state with as much foresight as wisdom. I, at least, am determined to hold myself aloof from all such burdensome affairs, to enjoy my youth and freedom, and I thank God that I have not to bear the weight of administering the government, but have only the pleasant task allotted me of permitting myself to be governed!"

"It is not possible!" cried the Electress, with an outburst of passion--"no, it is not possible that _my_ son can so speak and think! O Leuchtmar! what have you made of my son? Who has changed him, my darling, my only son? I hoped that he would come back a hero, around whom would cluster all those who are true to our house, our faith, and our fatherland! I hoped that in him I should find a refuge against the aggressions, the villainy, and the wiles of my enemy! I hoped that the son would succeed in winning back his father's heart, and turning him against that proud man who rules him entirely, and who will crush us all. O God! my God! for three long years I have been looking forward to his return as the time of vengeance and retribution, and now that son is here, and what do I find in him? A son weakly obedient to his father, a submissive admirer of Count Schwarzenberg, a weakling who longs not at all for honor and influence, who is glad that he has not to govern and work, but that others must govern and work for him! Alas! I am a poor mother, and much to be pitied, for in vain have I hoped that my son would assist me to avenge the misfortunes of my house, and punish and bring my enemies to account!"

She covered her face with her hands, weeping aloud. The Electoral Prince gave her a look of mingled grief and pain, took one hurried step forward, as if he would go to her, and encircle her in his arms, then paused, retreated slowly, gently, ever farther from the spot where she still stood with face concealed and sobbing aloud. It was as if an invisible hand continually drew him farther from his mother, ever nearer the door of the antechamber. Now he stood close to it, leaned against it, and--was the old castle so disjointed, or had the Electoral Prince with sudden touch pressed upon the latch?--the door flew open. The Electoral Prince fell backward into the antechamber, and, had it not been for the Electress's valet, against whom he stumbled, would have fallen to the ground.

"By my faith!" he cried, while he nodded to the lackey, who stood there with red face and deep embarrassment of manner--"by my faith! it was a piece of good luck for me that you were standing so near the door, my friend, else I should probably have had a bad fall. This rickety old castle must be repaired. One can not even lean against the doors without their flying open!"

He nodded to the lackey, who stood there in confusion, not having at all recovered his self-possession, and stepped back into the room. In passing, his eye caught that of Leuchtmar, who replied by a nod of assent, stolen and significant; then he approached the Electress, who, surprised by this sudden and unexpected interlude, had let her hands glide from before her face, and now dried her tears.

"I beg my revered mother's pardon for disturbing her so ridiculously," he said, seizing her hand and pressing it to his lips. "It was not my fault, and only occasioned by the insecure fastening upon the door. It was by a right fortunate accident that your grace commanded your valet to station himself close to the door of the cabinet, for he thereby saved me from an unpleasant fall."

"I did not command the lackey to station himself in your sleeping apartment," said the Electress, "and consider it contrary to all rules of propriety."

She rapidly crossed the study and opened the door just as the lackey was slinking through the one opposite.

"Frederick, come here!" cried the Electress, and with head sunk and humbled mien the lackey came a few paces nearer.

"Did I not order you to wait for me in the antechamber, and to forewarn us of the approach of any one else?" asked the Electress.

"Your highness," replied the lackey humbly, "I followed your grace's orders exactly, and stood here in the antechamber and kept guard, but nobody came."

"But this is not the antechamber, you blockhead!" cried the Electress. "It is there, without! Go out there and wait!"

The lackey made haste to obey the order given him, and the Electress turned to the Prince. "I beg you, my son, to pardon the man his stupidity," said she; "but he deserves some indulgence in so far as he has only been in our service for a short while, and consequently is not well acquainted with the plan of the palace. My valet fell sick on the journey from Königsberg here, and we were obliged to leave him behind, which was so much the more inconvenient as he was our hairdresser besides, and understood how to arrange the Elector's hair as well as my own and the young ladies'. Count Schwarzenberg heard of it, and by a piece of good fortune, was able to spare us one of his valets."

"Oh!" cried the Electoral Prince, smiling. "This fellow, then, has been transferred from the Stadtholder's service to that of your grace?"

"Yes, and I must say that he is a very useful and efficient servant, who understands all the newest styles of French hairdressing, and is well skilled in other ways also. I beg you therefore to excuse him for this little mistake."

"He is perfectly excusable," said the Electoral Prince, bowing. "So much the more excusable, as it might well happen that he is not yet familiar with this castle."

"It is true," cried the Electress, casting her eyes around the room, "it does look a little dilapidated and desolate here, and care ought indeed to have been taken to refurnish your apartments and give them a more comfortable aspect. You know, Frederick, we only expect to tarry here for a short time, and think of returning to Prussia very soon, and there I shall see myself that you are provided with handsomer and more commodious rooms. There I am the princely lady of the house, and everywhere reigning duchess, while here, in the resident palace of Berlin, I seem to myself only a guest, who has nothing at all to say in the directing of the household, but must silently acquiesce in everything. And it _is_ so, too, and has come to this pass, that the Stadtholder in the Mark is the only ruling lord and commander, and the Elector seems to come here only as the Stadtholder's guest."

"The Stadtholder, though, seems at least a right polite and splendid host," remarked the Electoral Prince, smiling, "a host who lays himself out to attend to the comfort and entertainment--nay, even to the wardrobes--of his noble guests."

"Your Electoral Highnesses!" cried an advancing lackey--"your Electoral Highnesses, the steward of the household is without, and announces that dinner is served, and that the Elector and the young ladies have already repaired to the dining hall."

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

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

"My son," sighed the Electress, "your traveling suit is so showy and elegant that I can only wish that in the future your court dress may always be so handsome. Come, give me your arm, and let us hurry, for your father does not like to be kept waiting, and is very punctual at mealtimes. You, Baron von Leuchtmar, follow us. We herewith invite you to be our guest, and to accompany us to table."

The Electress took the Prince's proffered arm, and swept through the door held open for her by the lackey. The steward of the household, who had awaited them in the antechamber, golden staff in hand, now preceded them, the lackeys flew before them to open the doors, and through a suite of gloomy, deserted rooms, with old-fashioned, dusty, and half-decayed furniture, moved the princely pair, followed by Baron von Leuchtmar, behind whom strutted the lackeys at a respectful distance. The Elector stood with the two Princesses in the deep recess of the great window, when his wife and son entered; he greeted them both with a short nod of the head, and, casting a dark, unfriendly glance at Baron von Leuchtmar, who was reverentially approaching him, gave his arm to his wife, and led her to the two upper places at the oblong table.

"It seems our son can not dispense with his tutor," said he, in a low, peevish tone of voice to the Electress. "He brings his tutor to dine with us, as if it were a matter of course."

"I beg your pardon, George," whispered the Electress. "I invited the baron, whom I found in our son's room. Do me the favor to receive him affably. He has bestowed much labor and love upon our son, and has ever been a faithful servant to us."

"To you, perhaps, but not to me," muttered the Elector, while he allowed himself to sink down in his great, round easychair, thereby giving the signal for dinner to commence.

The hours of dinner were usually those in which George William was accustomed to dismiss all the cares and anxieties of government, and to give himself up with cheerful countenance to harmless conversation with his wife and daughters.

At times he even loved to carry on a lively chat with those court officials who were present, at the table, or to amuse himself with hearing their recital of the events of the day or the gossip of the town. But to-day the Elector remained gloomy and taciturn. He left it to his wife to lead the conversation, and get from the Electoral Prince accounts of her dear relations at the Dutch court. The Prince answered all her questions, confining himself meanwhile to the duly necessary, and never spontaneously adding anything or entering into any details as to his own life and residence at the court of Holland. The Elector continued to listen in moody silence, and this reserve on the part of his son seemed to put him still more out of humor. His face continually grew darker, and he even disdainfully pushed away untasted his favorite dish, a wild boar's head, served up with lemons in its mouth, after it had been presented to him for the third time.

"You have been beating about the bush long enough now, Electress!" he cried warmly. "You have made inquiries after all possible things, except the principal matter and person in whom you are at bottom most interested. It might have been expected that our Electoral Prince would have begun himself, since 'out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.' But our young gentleman remains elegantly monosyllabic, and it would seem that he is not at all overjoyed upon his return to the poverty-stricken, quiet house of his father. It is true, he has lived in much handsomer style at the Orange court, lived there, indeed, amid plenty and pleasure--by the way, we can sing a little song on that subject, for our son has seen well to the outlay, but the payment all fell to the lot of us at home. But now, sir, now tell us a little of the petty court at Doornward, of our sister-in-law, the widowed Countess of the Palatinate, and finally, what I know your mother thinks the principal thing, finally tell us also about her beautiful and fascinating daughter, the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine."

The Prince slightly shuddered. At the mention of this name, which he had not heard since his departure from The Hague, he could not prevent the ebbing of all his heart's blood, and a deadly pallor overspread his cheeks. He cast down his eyes, and yet felt that all eyes were turned upon him with questioning, curious glances. But this very consciousness restored to him his self-possession and composure. Once more he raised his head with a vigorous start, shook back into their place the brown locks which had fallen down over forehead and cheeks, and met the Elector's looks of inquiry with a full, intrepid gaze.

"Most gracious father," he said, with quiet, passionless voice, "very little can be said about the petty court of Doornward. Our aunt, the Electress of the Palatinate, reflects with sorrow upon the past; the three Princesses, her daughters, and their three little brothers, reflect with hope upon the future, and of the present therefore but little is to be told."

"They must be very beautiful, those Princesses of the Palatinate, are they not?" asked the Elector.

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

"He only believes so!" cried his father. "Just see how they have slandered him, for they would have had us believe that he knew exactly, and was quite peculiarly edified by the beauty of the Princesses of the Palatinate."

"And why should he not have been, your highness?" asked the Electress, smiling. "The Princesses of the Palatinate are our own cousins, and it seems very natural, surely, that he should have a cordial, cousinly regard for them."

"Maybe, Electress!" cried George William, "but it were to be wished that it had stopped there! I should like, therefore, to hear something about the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine. Is she, indeed, so very fair as report represents her to be?"

"Yes," replied the Prince, with husky voice--"yes, she is very fair. Only question Leuchtmar on the subject; he can confirm what I say."

"I prefer to question yourself," said the Elector, with inexorable cruelty, "and to learn something more concerning your fair cousin from your own lips. We have been informed that the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine is a very lively, merry young lady, and that she is by no means disinclined to become our daughter-in-law."

"But, my husband," pleaded the Electress in an undertone, "you would not speak of such confidential matters in the presence of our court, and--"

"Ah, Electress!" interrupted George William, "these confidential matters have been bruited abroad everywhere; the talk has been, not merely here at Berlin, but throughout the land, yea, even so far as the imperial court at Vienna, that our son meant to surprise us on his return from the Netherlands by presenting to us the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine as his wife, without applying to us beforehand for our consent. I therefore desire that the Electoral Prince answer me openly and candidly, that we may all know once and forever how the matter stands, and what we have to expect. The good, gossiping city of Berlin, the whole land, even the imperial court and the whole world, which seems to interest itself so much in the marriage of our Prince, will then soon have an opportunity of learning directly and reliably what is the state of affairs, and that is exactly what seems to me desirable, and was the motive for our question. Therefore, let our son tell us how matters stand between the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine and himself."

The Electoral Prince sat with downcast eyes. His cheeks were still deadly pale, and on his high, broad brow rested a threatening cloud. He put his hand around the stem of the large glass goblet before him, and held it so firmly that the glass broke with startling clangor and poured its purple wine upon the tablecloth. The shrill clinking seemed to rouse him from his reverie; with a hasty movement he threw a napkin over the red stain, and again raised his eyes, slowly and tranquilly.

"Your Electoral Highnesses desire me to tell you the truth with regard to all the reports circulated as to a marriage between the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine and myself," he said. "I will, therefore, as becomes an obedient and submissive son, acquaint you with the truth. And the truth is this," he continued, with raised voice, while at the same time his cheeks became suddenly scarlet and his eyes flashed with the fire of inspiration--"the truth is this: the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine is the prettiest, sweetest woman in the whole world; happy and enviable is the man whose fortunate destiny will permit him to take her home as his bride, blessed above all men he on whom this noble, fascinating, and amiable girl bestows her love, whom she allows to enjoy the treasures of her mind and heart. Your highness said that the Princess Hollandine was not ill inclined to become your daughter-in-law. On that point I can give you no information, for I perceived nothing of this inclination; but this I can and must confess, that _I_ experienced the most glowing desire to make the Princess your daughter-in-law; this I must confess, that I have loved the beautiful, witty, and charming Princess Hollandine with my whole soul and from the very depths of my heart. But never would I have ventured to make the noble Princess my wife in opposition to your will, father; and since I must admit that a union with her is not in accordance with your wishes, and that it is opposed by policy and state reasons, I have obediently submitted to your orders, and brought to you and my country the greatest and holiest of sacrifices that a man can offer: I have sacrificed my love to you, father! It has indeed been a bitter struggle with me, and I do not deny that I yet suffer, but I shall conquer my pain; yet that I can ever forget the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine, I can not promise, for he who has truly loved never forgets. You have desired me to acquaint you with the truth, father, now you know it. Let it now he blazoned forth through all Berlin, through the whole country, even as far as the imperial court of Vienna, and through the whole world. The Princess Ludovicka also will then hear of it, and the report of this confession of my love will reach her. But let rumor announce this one thing more to the Emperor, to our country, and to her: that, while the Electoral Prince Frederick William of Brandenburg could, indeed, give up a marriage with a Princess whom he loved, out of respect and obedience to his father, he never will take as his wife a princess whom he does not love, out of obedience and respect; that the Electoral Prince thinks himself much too young and inexperienced to marry, and that he most humbly implores his father to spare him the consideration of all matrimonial projects for long years to come, since he is firmly determined not to marry yet, and this, indeed, not out of any refractoriness toward his father, nor out of any want of veneration for the princesses who might be proposed to him, but merely because his heart has received a sore wound, and because this must first heal. But I do not reproach the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine with having inflicted this wound. On the contrary, I speak it aloud, and may my speech penetrate to her ears as a parting salutation: Blessed be the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine of the Palatinate, and may God send her the happiness she deserves so richly by her beauty, intellect, and goodness of heart!"

And, carried away by his own warmth and enthusiasm, forgetting all sense of restraint in this moment of highest excitement, Frederick William jumped up from his seat, took up in his hand the unbroken cup of the glass whose foot he had smashed, and filled it to the brim with wine.

"Most gracious mother!" he cried, "look here! the base of this goblet is broken off, and an apt symbol it is of my love. With the last wine which this glass will ever hold let me drink a last farewell to my love, and do you pledge her with me: To the health of the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine of the Palatinate!"

The Electress had listened to her son with tears in her eyes, and the two Princesses also had been deeply moved by the vehement and painful recital of their brother's love. Now, upon his invitation, spoken with so much ardor and enthusiasm, the Electress rose from her seat and took her glass in her hand; the Princesses followed her example.

"To the health of the Princess Ludovicka Hollandine of the Palatinate!" said the Electress, with full, distinct voice, and the young ladies repeated it after her.

"Here is to her health!" cried Frederick William, with animated features and beaming eyes. "May she be great, happy, and blessed forever!"

At one draught he emptied the chalice, then, in the fervor of the moment, forgetting all discretion, he threw the glass backward over his shoulder into the hall, so that it fell, with a crash, shivered to atoms, upon the floor.

The Elector rose, his face flushed with passion, and violently rolled his chair back from the table. "Dinner is over," he said. "May this meal be blessed to all!"

The court officials bowed low and withdrew. Herr von Leuchtmar also made a motion as if to go, but George William's call detained him. "Come here," he said imperiously; "I have still a couple of words to speak with you. Just tell me, Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun, is it you who have taught the Electoral Prince such singular manners, or are those the fine fashions which he has been used to at the Orange court? Is it the custom there to make scandal at table, and to throw glasses behind them?"

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