"Here I stand, and here I mean to stay until the Elector comes!"
"Let him remain, William, and speak not another word," commanded Count Schwarzenberg. "Drive my carriage up so close to the electoral carriage that I can conveniently step in."
The coachman obeyed, and the electoral charioteer, who had begun the contention with the supercilious driver of the Stadtholder with inward satisfaction, and hoped for a long protraction of the same, now felt himself foiled, and saw with inexpressible astonishment the coachman turn around, with rapid sweep make the circuit of the square, and draw up close beside the electoral equipage. Before he yet comprehended the object of this manoeuvre, the count had stretched forth his arm, opened with his own hand the door of the electoral coach, stepped into it, opened the door on the other side, and stepped out on the broad leather-covered plank which extended like a sort of drawbridge from the threshold of the palace garden to the electoral carriage.
"Bravo, Schwarzenberg, bravo!" called out a laughing voice, and as the count, standing midway on the plank, looked up, he saw the Elector above at the open window, nodding to him with friendly gesture, and greeting him with a cheerful smile.
"That was good for the brazen scoundrel, Fritz Long," called down the
Elector; "how could the rascal dare not to move out of the way for the
Stadtholder?"
"He did right, your Electoral Grace!" called up Schwarzenberg, as he hastily doffed his gold-edged hat with its waving plumes, and bowed so low that the tips of the white feathers surmounting the black ones touched the damp ground.
"Put on your hat, and come up," said the Elector. "It is cold down there."
"Only permit me first, most gracious sir, to do a little act of justice," cried Schwarzenberg, turning with a pleasant smile to the electoral coachman, who stared at him with sullen mien.
"Fritz Long," he said, with amiable condescension—"Fritz Long, you have acted as became a brave and trusty electoral coachman. You are perfectly right; you must never drive out of the way, even should the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire himself come to visit the Elector. In recognition of your honesty and truth, accept this present from me."
And the count drew from the side pocket of his richly embroidered vest two gold pieces, and laid them in the immense hand, gloved in a dirty, yellow gauntlet, which the Elector's joyfully surprised state coachman reached out to him. The count again nodded affably to him, and passed through the palace portal. "I hope," he said to himself, while he slowly ascended the broad wooden stairs—"I hope that in the next riot my fellows will properly punish the shameless rascal, and take out the two gold coins I have given him in little pieces on his broad back."