The action, conceived from the point of view just described, is, briefly summed up, as follows:  It is the evening, or rather the night, before the battle of Fehrbellin.  The Great Elector, surrounded by his family, has gathered his generals about him and is making known to them, by his field-marshal, the plan which he has devised for the battle on the morrow.  Each officer, Homburg among them, is informed what part he is to play in the bloody work of the following day; the Prince receives the most difficult post for one of his age and temperament, since he is to remain outside the firing line with the cavalry which he commands during the actual battle, and not until the victory is practically won can he come into action; even then he is to await a definite order from the Elector, and is merely to assist in completely routing the vanquished enemy.  Here, be it noted, his ordeal already begins.  It is not an accident that the Elector has assigned him a post which must necessarily bring him into conflict with his passions and the demands of his blood; the sovereign does it purposely in order that he may learn to control both.  The Prince is scarcely listening to the field-marshal when his turn comes; he is absent-minded, for Nathalie, the Princess of Orange, an orphan who has taken refuge at the Brandenburg Court, and whom he secretly loves, is present, and the Electress is leaving with her and the other ladies while his orders are being dictated.  However, be scarcely requires such pedantic instructions, for he sees in a battle only an opportunity for personal distinction in one form or another, not a moral task which can be properly executed only in one way.  Nevertheless, he learns from his friend Hohenzollern exactly what the service requires of him; but of what avail is it?  His friend can only lend him his ears, not his judgment, and thus the first act ends, conformably to this stage of his development, with a monologue, in which we learn that he is only thinking of the laurels and the girl at whose feet he will lay them, not of his duty and his country.  Thus we see that the sleep-walking scene, and all that is connected with it, can easily be omitted; the exposition is complete without it, and therein lies the actual proof of the correctness of my view of the work.  A youth always dreams of the man whom he already believes himself to be; there is therefore no need of a double-dream.  The glove might have been replaced by a glance from the Princess, surprised unawares, followed by a sudden blush.  Was it intended for me or for you?  That is enough to occupy a youth to such an extent that he would pay no attention to Mars himself were he to descend to earth.  The battle takes place and what was to be expected, occurs.  The Prince attacks too soon, and the victory is indeed gained, but it is not as complete a one as it would have been possible to win.  He knows very well what he is doing; it is impossible that he should not know it, and therefore the poet might have spared himself the