“Gladly would I have smiled and looked cheerful, George, but have lacked the opportunity.  You know well that we have seldom seen a blue sky above us; it has been always over-cast by gloomy clouds.  But I beg of you, my lord and husband, to resume your seat, for I see, alas! that your foot is paining you sadly.  The fatigues of travel have injured it, and it would indeed be wise if you would at last determine to resort to active remedies, and to that end allow a couple of the learned Frankfort doctors to be sent for.”

With an expression almost of alarm the Elector looked upon his wife, who had seated herself on a stool beside him, and soothingly and tenderly laid her hand upon his cheek.

“You have something on your mind, Elizabeth, something surely,” he said, “and it is nothing which can give me pleasure, else you would not use so much circumlocution; but speak it out frankly.”

“How?” asked the Electress, “must I have some special object in view, when I smile upon you, and fondle you a little?  Know you not that my soul is full of tenderness toward you, and that my heart is ever speaking to you, even when the lips utter not aloud what the heart is whispering within?”

“Elizabeth!” cried the Elector, “now I know it; you have received tidings from our son, and vexatious tidings!  Yes, yes, that is it!  I know those tender looks and beaming eyes; it is not my wife that I recognize in them:  it is the mother of our Electoral Prince, Frederick William.”

“Ah! what an acute observer you are, George, and how well you understand how to read my countenance!  Well, now, you shall have it in all candor.  I have news from our dear Electoral Prince.”

“He notifies us, I trust, that he has followed our instructions strictly and to the letter, and is now on his way home?” asked the Elector, gazing upon his wife with anxious, inquiring glances.

But Elizabeth avoided his look.

“What!” cried George William angrily, “you do not answer me!  You can not, therefore, respond to my questions with a joyful Yes!  Can it be possible, then, that the Electoral Prince has disregarded my commands, that—­”

“Do not allow yourself to be so excited, George,” interrupted the Electress.  “First hear his motives and excuses before you grow angry with our son.”

“From all those motives and excuses I shall only gather that he will not come,” cried the Elector.

“Say rather that he can not come,” returned Elizabeth, while she gently forced back her husband, who in his excitement and impatience had made an effort to rise.  “Yes, I have letters from The Hague, my dear husband, letters from both our uncle, the Prince of Orange, and my mother, and I dare affirm that these letters have given me heartfelt joy, inasmuch as my uncle the Stadtholder, as well as my mother, write of our dear son that he is an accomplished Prince, in whom one may reasonably rejoice, and whom we may