The Elector was alone. His head sank upon his breast, and he stood deeply absorbed in thought. But after a pause he slowly raised his head, and his sorrowful glance fell directly upon the portrait of his father, John Sigismund, whose sad, pale face was turned toward him, with its dark, melancholy eyes.
"Poor father!" murmured the Elector with a heavy sigh, "I understand quite well and easily conceive why you voluntarily laid down your power and retired from the government before death had sent his summons. An Elector of Brandenburg has by no means a comfortable, pleasant life of it; and a sorely oppressive inheritance have I received from you, so that I, too, might despair, and do as you have done. I, too, might rid myself of the hard task of seeming to be an Elector and reigning sovereign, while I am naught but a poor, much-tormented man, who has more titles than lands, more debts than money, and whose nation consists not of obedient subjects but of obstinate brawlers, a mob of would-be politicians and starved-out people. No! no!" he cried, interrupting himself, "no! I shall not give my son so much joy. I shall not do him the pleasure of yielding up the power to him, and being thrown aside myself like a squeezed lemon. No, Elector I shall remain, and my lordly son shall submit to the paternal will, and return home. Schwarzenberg must provide me with the means. He is the very man for this—he understands it!"
The Elector reached out again for his silver whistle and sounded a shrill call. Immediately one of the outer doors was opened, admitting a lackey. The Elector had already opened his mouth, to issue his commands, when he suddenly grew dumb and looked at the lackey with a still more clouded brow.
"Fellow," he said angrily, "how dare you appear in this presence with such a dress? With your short bearskin jacket and patched hose, you present such a pitiably mean appearance that I am actually ashamed to behold you."
"Pardon, your Electoral Grace," stammered the servant with downcast air, "I can not help it, and I am woefully ashamed myself that I must dare to come thus before my most gracious lord the Elector. A heavy misfortune has happened to my livery coat. I left it hanging on a nail, and tore a fearfully large three-cornered rent in it, on which the court tailor says he will have to stitch a whole day, and even then it may not be presentable after all. The livery coat, therefore, is at the tailor's, which is the reason why I must appear in my jacket."
"You should have put on another coat," cried the Elector, impatiently, "for it is contrary to respect that you should enter in such shabby style."
"Another coat?" asked the lackey, with an expression of the highest astonishment. "Pardon, your Electoral Highness, I have only that one coat!"
"What!" exclaimed the Elector. "Only one coat! Did I not order that new livery coats should be made for you lackeys before our removal from Königsberg?"
"It was done, your Electoral Grace, we received our new livery coats before we left Königsberg."
"Well, then, where are the old ones?"