"Away!" commanded the count imperiously. "If you are not out of Berlin in one hour I shall have you arrested by the police, and accuse you as the murderer of the Electoral Prince, for you alone waited upon him! Be off!"
But Gabriel Nietzel stirred not from the threshold, and the look which he fixed upon the count was not humble and reverential, but threatening. "Sir," asked he shortly and harshly—"sir, where are Rebecca and my child?"
"At your lodgings, you fool! Hurry, I tell you!" And with ungentle hand the count thrust the painter from the door, and returned to the banqueting hall to inform the Elector and his spouse with smiling, almost mocking gesture, that the young gentleman himself had said that the strong wine had slightly affected his head, and produced a temporary indisposition.
The Elector laughed aloud, and the anxious brow of the Electress cleared up again. The entertainment quietly proceeded.
Why should they be uneasy about the young gentleman, who had no other sufferings than those resulting from unwonted indulgence in strong drink?
The Electoral Prince had meanwhile arrived with his chamberlain at the castle. No one came to meet them. All the servants had dispersed hither and thither, in pursuit of their own business or enjoyments. They knew, indeed, that Count Schwarzenberg's feast would be continued to a late hour of the night, and who could imagine that the Electoral Prince would return home in so unexpected a manner? The castle was deserted, and the chamberlain must needs summon to his aid the sentinel who was pacing up and down before the castle, in order to lift the Prince from his carriage and into the entrance hall. Now he called aloud for help, since the Prince had become perfectly helpless, and lay senseless upon the stone bench in the hall.
The porter, who was only asleep in his lodge, rushed out, and old
Dietrich, the valet, also came hurrying down the steps.
They bore the Prince to his own apartments, put him to bed upon his own couch, and, as the Chamberlain von Götz saw the old faithful Dietrich standing beside his young master, sobbing and so full of grief, he kindly laid his hand upon his shoulder.
"It is nothing of moment, good old man. The Prince has only taken too much wine, that is all. Be comforted. To-morrow will make all straight again."
Dietrich sorrowfully shook his head. "You are mistaken, Sir Chamberlain; this is not the effect of wine. The Electoral Prince is much too fine and noble a gentleman for that; he never drinks more than he can stand. Just see how pale and wretched he looks. My dear young master is sick, very sick. They have murdered him, they have killed him, they—"