“You may rely upon me, Prince.  I will stand behind your chair, I will wait upon you at Count Schwarzenberg’s feast.”

“You, Gabriel Nietzel, you?” asked Frederick William, and his eyes were fixed upon the painter with a long glance of inquiry.  Gabriel Nietzel sustained this glance, and succeeded in forcing a smile upon his lips.

“I will be your valet at the feast.  I will stand behind your chair and wait upon you.”

“Impossible, Gabriel.  How could we manage that without insulting the count?”

“Very simply, your highness.  Have the kindness to say that you brought me with you, in order that I might make for you a painting of the banquet, and to that end sketch the outlines, and that, to furnish a pretext for my presence, you have allowed me to appear as your page.”

“It is true, that will suit!  You have weighed all excellently, Gabriel Nietzel, and your plan is good.”

“And you accept it, gracious sir, do you not, you accept it?”

Frederick William was silent, and his large, deep-blue eyes were again fixed testingly and questioningly upon the painter’s countenance.  After a long pause he slowly laid his hand upon Gabriel’s shoulder, and his looks brightened.

“Gabriel Nietzel,” he said solemnly, “I will have confidence in you, I will assume that God sends you to me to save me; I will not assume that Count Schwarzenberg sends you to me to ruin me.  You shall accompany me to the feast and stand behind my chair as page.”

Gabriel Nietzel only answered by the tears, which in clear streams gushed from his eyes.  “Oh, you weep,” cried the Electoral Prince.  “Now I see well that you mean honestly, and that I can trust you, for your tears speak for you.”

Just then the lackey opened the door of the antechamber and announced, “The commandant of Kuestrin, Colonel von Burgsdorf, wishes to pay his respects!”

“Let him wait an instant; I will summon him directly.”

“Most gracious sir,” murmured Nietzel, when the door had again closed, “dismiss me in the colonel’s presence, and immediately, that the spies may not have it to say that there has been to-day a meeting, of Count Schwarzenberg’s enemies here.”

“Are there spies here too, Gabriel?”

“Everywhere, sir, each of your servants is bribed, and you must suspect them.  Dismiss me, sir, dismiss me.”

The Electoral Prince went to the door and opened it.

“Colonel von Burgsdorf, come in!”

“Here I am, most gracious sir, here I am!” cried Burgsdorf’s rough voice, and with clashing sword and glittering corselet Conrad von Burgsdorf entered the room.  The Electoral Prince nodded to him, and then turned to the painter, who humbly and with lowered head had crept away toward the door.  “Master Nietzel,” he said, with a condescending wave of the hand, “go now, and be careful to carry out my instructions.  I will request my mother to do me the kindness to sit to you every day for her portrait, which you are to paint for me.  Make all your preparations, and come early to-morrow morning with the canvas stretched.”