The Electoral Prince reeled through the hall, waving off all who approached him or offered him assistance. "It is nothing, nothing at all," he said with cheerful, broken voice. "I have taken a little cold. Let me get away unnoticed."
All kept their seats, as the Prince desired, and as the Elector required by tarrying himself at the table. Only the Stadtholder, in his capacity of host, had risen from the table to offer his guidance to the Electoral Prince. He approached him, proffering the support of his arm.
"Will your highness do me the honor to rest upon my arm, and permit me to escort you to your carriage?"
The Electoral Prince shuddered, and, suddenly lifting his head, flashed an angry glance from his already clouded eyes into the proud, composed countenance of the count. But it quickly vanished, Frederick William accepted Schwarzenberg's proffered arm, and, leaning upon him, tottered out of the hall into the antechamber. His countenance was deadly pale, dark circles were under his eyes, his lips were colorless, his eyes bloodshot. But still he maintained his erect position by mere force of will, and even controlled himself so far as to smile and address a few friendly words to the count.
"My heavens, noble sir!" cried Schwarzenberg, with an expression of painful horror, "this is more than a mere passing indisposition. You are really sick—you are suffering!"
"Not so, count. I am not suffering at all, and it is only a trifling ailment. My father is quite right—the strong wine has mounted to my head. I am not used to drinking and feasting, that is all. To-morrow will—Count, I beg you to lead me to my carriage. It is dark before my eyes!"
And the Prince sank back groaning and half unconscious. The count beckoned the princely Chamberlain von Götz to approach, and the two gentlemen, aided by a few lackeys, bore the Prince carefully out to the carriage. Then Frederick William opened his eyes, his wandering glance strayed around, and his lips stammered softly: "Where is Gabriel Nietzel? Is he with me?"
But Gabriel Nietzel was nowhere to be seen; only the Chamberlain von Götz was there, and he got into the carriage, which bore the deadly sick Prince at full gallop to the palace.
Count Schwarzenberg looked after the retreating vehicle with earnest, thoughtful face, then turned to re-enter the palace. On the threshold stood Gabriel Nietzel, and the eyes of the two men met in one glance of awe and horror.
"Your grace sees I have kept my word," murmured Gabriel Nietzel.