Chapter IV: Book I: I.--George William, the Elector (4)

"Oh, my dear! I guess your thoughts," he cried. "You think that when you are in Holland I can no longer reach you, and you will take good care not to put yourself in my power again. But know that my arm is far-reaching, and that I have spies and agents everywhere, who are very devoted to me because I pay them well. They will find you out wherever you are, and no jurisdiction would refuse delivering up to me a criminal if I demanded him. But besides that, Master Gabriel Nietzel, I hold here a sure pledge for your valuable person."

"What sort of pledge does your excellency mean?" inquired Nietzel anxiously.

"Why, I mean the fair Rebecca, whom you brought with you from the Ghetto of Venice, and whom it pleases you here to give out to be your wife, married at Venice. I hope, however, that you have not committed so heinous a sin as to take a Jewess to wife, for then you should not escape with the gallows, but should be burned at the stake with your cursed Jewess, your bold paramour."

Master Nietzel answered not a word. With a loud groan he sank upon a chair, and covered his face with both his hands, weeping aloud.

"Your fair Rebecca stays behind here with your boy," continued Count Schwarzenberg; "and that she may be in perfect safety and never lack for my protection, I shall have her brought to Spandow, my usual place of residence. There she shall live, well watched and cared for, and there remain until your return. If, however, you have then proved yourself to be a good and obedient servant, I will myself restore to you your Rebecca, and nobody shall dare to molest you."

"Tell me what I have to do, your excellency," said the painter, with cold, desperate decision. "I am ready and willing for everything, for I love my Rebecca and my son, and I will deserve them."

"And it will not be made hard for you, master. You go, then, to Holland, introduce yourself to the Electoral Prince through the Electress's letter of recommendation, and try to make yourself as agreeable and charming to him as possible. When you have succeeded in that, lament to him that life in Holland does not suit you at all, that you are homesick, and entreat most earnestly that the Electoral Prince include you in his traveling suite. This he will naturally do, and you will accompany him on his journey home. Have you understood me, and paid good heed to all my words, Master Nietzel?"

"Yes, your excellency, I have noted each word."

"And you have found without doubt that it is by no means a difficult thing that I require of you. But the journey back, Master Nietzel, the journey back is a very dangerous and bad affair. You know, so many freebooters rove about everywhere, and Westphalia especially is swarming with Swedes and Hessians. If such a troop of soldiers knew beforehand that the Electoral Prince was coming that way, they would certainly lie in wait for him and fall upon him, either for purposes of plunder or in order to carry him off and extort a high ransom for him. The Electoral Prince will not passively submit to capture, but will resist; a battle will ensue, and then it might easily happen that in the heat of conflict a dagger should pierce the Prince or a ball go through his head. Those Swedes and Hessians are wild, fierce soldiers, and the Prince is in perpetual danger, especially in Westphalia. You must represent this to the Electoral Prince, and, to prove to him your zeal and love, you will entreat permission always to go a few hours in advance of him to make sure that the way is free and the Electoral Prince is threatened by no danger. He will therefore each morning acquaint you with the course of his route, and where to arrange night quarters for him, and the point where you shall rejoin him again. You are to precede the Electoral Prince as courier, and if, some day, he should be attacked at a wild spot on the road by a troop of Swedish or Hessian soldiery, robbed, taken prisoner, or even killed, that is no fault of yours, and no one could blame you on that account, for you have proved and evidenced your zeal in the most striking manner. You have comprehended me, Master Nietzel? Have you paid good heed to my words?"

"Yes, your excellency, I have paid good heed, and understood everything well," returned Master Gabriel, on whose brow the sweat stood in great drops.

"Well, I have only this to add: Should the unfortunate accident really happen that the Electoral Prince is attacked by robbers and killed in Westphalia or somewhere else, then look to it, that you be found that day among his defenders, and bear off as token some wound received--for instance, a sabre thrust on the right arm. With this true sign of your valor and your faithfulness come here to Berlin, and be assured that no one shall dare to suspect you when he witnesses your grief and especially your sabre thrust. It need be no deep wound, and surely the fair Rebecca has a healing balm which she can apply to you. Besides, the Electress will protect you, and be certain that I will stand by you with all my might and influence. And now, master, we have concluded all our business, and you will set out in an hour. I permit you, however, first to take leave of your fair Rebecca and the pretty child. Only, you must not be alone again with the beautiful woman, and therefore I have given orders that your wife and son be brought here. You will be pleased to stay so long at my chamberlain's house; luncheon shall be served there for yourself and your family, and you can take it in the presence of my chamberlain. I have already imparted to you the needed commands, and taken care to have your wife and child fetched directly here. A vehicle is also prepared, ready to convey your wife to Spandow; I have a good, trustworthy housekeeper in my house there, and with her the two can dwell, and shall want for nothing, except it be yourself."

"Most gracious sir," said Gabriel Nietzel, with an expression of deep anguish, "I love my wife and child above everything, and am prepared to suffer and endure everything for them. But if I returned home and found my wife sick, or dead, or, what were yet worse, found her--

"Well, why do you hesitate, master? Faithless, found her faithless, would you say--well, what then?"

"Well, then life would have no value at all to me," said Gabriel Nietzel firmly and decidedly. "Then would it be quite indifferent to me whether I were hanged or burned; then would I desire nothing but to die, and--before my death to avenge myself."

"Ah! I understand you quite well, master, and know you well. You please me uncommonly with your energetic defiance and your hidden threat. In return I, too, will give you an open, candid answer. Master Gabriel Nietzel, I am no enamored fool, who runs after every apronstring, or generally takes any special pleasure in women. I have neither time nor inclination for that, and leave such things to the young, the idle, and men who have no ambition and no head, but only a heart. I, Master Gabriel, have no heart at all, or at least none now any longer, and I herewith give you my word of honor as a nobleman and gentleman that your lovely Rebecca has nothing to dread from me. On the contrary, I shall have her watched and guarded, as if she were a ward intrusted to me, for whose honor I held myself responsible."

"I thank your excellency--I thank you with my whole heart," said Gabriel Nietzel, breathing more freely; "and now you shall find me ready and willing to execute your commands faithfully and punctiliously."

"It rejoices me, master, it rejoices me to see what a tender husband, or rather lover, you are. I repeat to you, you need feel no anxiety about your Rebecca. She will find herself quite secure in my society, while I fear that the Electoral Prince will have but little safety in your society, but be very often in danger."

"I fear so, too, your excellency," said Gabriel Nietzel, with a feeble effort to smile.

"But a good old proverb has it, 'All they that take the sword shall perish by the sword,'" continued the count. "It is not your fault, master, if the Electoral Prince does not know this proverb. Now farewell, master, and be of good courage, for another good proverb says, 'Fortune smiles on the brave.' Go now, master, my chamberlain awaits you in the antechamber."

"I am going, your excellency," said Gabriel Nietzel humbly. "May almighty God be with us all, and guard my wife and child!"

He bowed low and reverentially, then strode hastily toward the door.

"Gabriel Nietzel, one word more!" called out the count, as the painter stood with his hand already upon the door knob. He turned and slowly came back. "Master Gabriel Nietzel," continued the count, with a mocking laugh, "be so good as to give me the Electress's letter."

The painter drew forth his leather pocketbook, took out the open letter of recommendation, and handed it to the count.

But the latter smilingly rejected it. "You may keep that, master; I have already read that. The other, the second missive from the Electress, you must give me."

Gabriel Nietzel shrank back, and gazed into the count's large, glittering eyes.

"The other writing," he murmured, "the second writing?"

"Why, yes, master, that secret writing, which you have naturally promised to shield with the last drop of your blood, and to hand inviolate into the hands of the Electoral Prince. My God! we know how often such oaths are made, and that hardly one has ever been kept. You have not been made court painter for nothing, with your salary of fifty dollars, free rent, and two suits of clothes. You must give something in return. Give me that second writing of the Electress, the one which you have sworn to hand only to the Electoral Prince; or rather, no, you shall not forswear yourself. Just tell me where you have stuck it, and I shall take it for myself."

"Your excellency, it sticks in my left breast pocket," whispered Gabriel Nietzel. The count laughed aloud, and with one movement drew forth from Master Gabriel's left breast pocket a small packet, wound round with silken strings. With cautious hand, extremely solicitous not to break the string, he untied it, and took out the paper found beneath. Within this, indeed, lay a small, well-sealed letter.

"'To my dear son, the Electoral Prince Frederick William,'" read the count, with loud voice. "You see, I was not mistaken. It is the Electress's handwriting, and it is directed to the Electoral Prince."

"And I have solemnly sworn to give it into no other hands than his," murmured the painter.

"You shall keep your oath, Master Gabriel. Now go into the antechamber. My chamberlain awaits you there, and perhaps your fair Rebecca is also there already!"

"But my letter, your excellency--shall I not have my letter again?"

"Certainly, master, you shall have it again. In a half hour I shall come out myself and give it to you. Oh, fear nothing. The Prince will not suspect that any strange hand has touched it. Indeed, it concerns me very nearly that the Electoral Prince should put confidence in you, and be convinced of your honesty and good faith. Go now, master, I shall bring the secret epistle back to you unscathed, and put it again into your left breast pocket."

When Master Gabriel Nietzel had crept out slowly and sorrowfully, the count hastened to his writing table, took up flint, tinder, and steel, and made the sparks fly until one fired the tinder and made it glow. Now he held a splinter of wood to the glowing tinder, and by its flame lighted the wax taper in the golden candlestick. Then he quickly fetched, from a secret drawer of his writing table, a small knife with a fine thin blade, heated this at the light, and carefully and adroitly slipped it under the great electoral seal, which he carefully detached from the letter. He laid it carefully upon a small marble slab, and opened the letter. It was a very long, confidential communication from the Electress to her beloved son. With closest attention the count read it twice, and then with great pains folded it up again.

"It is just as I thought," he said softly to himself: "the Electress wishes the longer absence of her son. She intimates to him that she will not be displeased if he marries there, and even promises that she will soften his father's wrath. She counsels him not to come here, and warns him against the evil spirit who has ensnared his father's heart, and surely aims at the life of her dear and noble son. Well, it must be confessed, the Electress is on the right trail. Her mother's instinct gives her insight into the future, and makes her a prophetess. I know it very well, Electress: we two have never loved one another, and have carried on a bitter warfare against each other for twenty years, in which, however, God be thanked, Schwarzenberg has always come off victorious. I hope, too, it will continue to be so, and this letter will furnish me with a good weapon. I shall take a copy of it. Who knows what use I may make of it one of these days, and out of this paper fashion a dagger which may turn against the writer and against the receiver, if it reaches the hands of the Electoral Prince. Yes, I shall take a copy, and then restore the original to its envelope and affix the seal. And Master Gabriel shall take it to you, my dear Prince. Oh, take heed, and be upon your guard, Frederick William, for your respected mother is right. I am your evil spirit, and I can only stand if you fall; therefore, fall you must! Oh, I have learned much to-day, and received many a good lesson. 'It is better,' so said the Elector to me--'it is better that I have no son than a disobedient son, who resists my will.' But he shall resist you, Elector George William--he will be disobedient to you, and I shall do my part toward making him so. Then how said Count Lesle: 'If the son becomes the father's enemy, then it must be contrived to render the father the son's enemy; thus will the equilibrium be preserved.' Oh, my dear Count Lesle, I know very well the history of Philip of Spain and his disobedient and rebellious son Don Carlos. Take care, take care, Electoral Prince Frederick William, that you share not the fate of Don Carlos, and that your father punish you not as King Philip did his son!"