She slowly turned and once more drew the long white veil over her face.
"To-morrow night I shall come again," she said. "Attend well to him,
Dietrich, and see that he swallows nothing but what you give him yourself."
Then she opened the door and stepped out. The corridor was still empty and tenantless; the sentinels had not yet ventured to return to their posts. They had all collected below in the guardroom, which was situated in the rear of the castle toward the Spree, and, pale with agitation and horror, were talking in whispers of the awful event. All at once it seemed to them as if a white shadow glided past outside the windows, as if two great, sparkling eyes looked in upon them. They jumped up, rushed out of the room, and out of the castle, shrieking out to the town, "The White Lady! the White Lady!"
A couple of inquisitive men coming from Schwarzenberg's palace heard the shriek of terror and screamed it to others, and like a tempest of wind it rolled on, dragged everything into its eddying circle of awe and fright, rushed howling through the night and penetrated into the brilliantly lighted palace of Count Schwarzenberg, even into the ball-room, where the tired couples were whirling in the last dance.
"The White Lady! the White Lady has appeared in the castle!"
The words ran through the halls. The dancing ceased, and the music paused in the midst of a piece begun, for the Elector himself had risen from his game of cards, and the Electress had called the Princesses from among the dancers.
"The White Lady has been seen in the castle!"
These fearful words, brought to him by his wife, frightened the Elector out of his comfortable mood, and dissipated the cheering effects of the wine. The White Lady threatened him with death! The thought filled his whole soul, and made him all at once sober and serious.
"The Lady in White has appeared in the castle," sighed the Electress, "and my son Frederick William is sick. I must go to him—I must go to my son!"
The equipage rolled off to the castle. The Elector leaned back gloomily in the corner, thinking to himself: "If I only knew whether she wore white or black gloves! Perhaps she only means to warn me, perhaps there is yet time to escape the mischief! The air of Berlin is very bad, and I vex myself too much here. As we drove up to the castle when we came from Königsberg, one of our carriage horses stumbled and fell. That was an ill omen, and we should have heeded it and turned about immediately. Perhaps there may yet be time to flee from the threatened evil, if we go back to Königsberg! If I only knew what kind of gloves the White Lady wore!"
"Just tell me what sort of a tale this is about the White Lady?" asked Count Schwarzenberg of his Chamberlain von Lehndorf, after his guests had taken their leave.