ELECTOR.  In slumber sunk?  Impossible!

HOHENZOLLERN.  In slumber
  Sunk as he is, speak but his name—­he drops.

[Pause.]

ELECTRESS.  Sure as I live, the youth is taken ill.

NATALIE.  He needs a doctor’s care—­

ELECTRESS.  We should give help,
  Not waste time, gentlemen, meseems, in scorn.

HOHENZOLLERN (handing back the torch). 
  He’s sound, you tender-hearted women folk,
  By Jove, as sound as I!  He’ll make the Swede
  Aware of that upon tomorrow’s field. 
  It’s nothing more, and take my word for it,
  Than a perverse and silly trick of the mind.

ELECTOR.  By faith, I thought it was a fairy-tale! 
  Follow me, friends, we’ll take a closer look.

[They descend from the terrace.]

GENTLEMAN-IN-WAITING (to the pages). 
  Back with the torches!

[Illustration:  #THE ROYAL CASTLE AT BERLIN#]

HOHENZOLLERN.  Leave them, leave them, friends! 
  These precincts might roar up to heaven in fire
  And his soul be no more aware of it
  Than the bright stone he wears upon his hand.

 [They surround him, the pages illuminating the scene.]

ELECTOR (bending over the PRINCE). 
  What leaf is it he binds?  Leaf of the willow?

HOHENZOLL.  What!  Willow-leaf, my lord?  It is the bay,
  Such as his eyes have noted on the portraits
  Of heroes hung in Berlin’s armor-hall.

ELECTOR.  Where hath he found that in my sandy soil?

HOHENZOLL.  The equitable gods may guess at that!

GENTLEMAN-IN-WAITING. 
  It may be in the garden, where the gardener
  Has nurtured other strange, outlandish plants.

ELECTOR.  Most curious, by heaven!  But what’s the odds? 
  I know what stirs the heart of this young fool.

HOHENZOLL.  Indeed!  Tomorrow’s clash of arms, my liege! 
  Astrologers, I’ll wager, in his mind
  Are weaving stars into a triumph wreath.

[The PRINCE regards the wreath.]

GENTLEMAN-IN-WAITING.  Now it is done!

HOHENZOLLERN.  A shame, a mortal shame,
  That there’s no mirror in the neighborhood! 
  He would draw close to it, vain as any girl,
  And try his wreath on, thus, and then again
  This other way—­as if it were a bonnet!

ELECTOR.  By faith!  But I must see how far he’ll go!

[The ELECTOR takes the wreath from the PRINCE’S hand while the latter regards him, flushing.  The ELECTOR thereupon twines his neck-chain about the wreath and gives it to the PRINCESS. The PRINCE rises in excitement, but the ELECTOR draws back with the PRINCESS, still holding the wreath aloft.  The PRINCE follows her with outstretched arms.]