“My son knows how to arrange his words prettily,” said the Elector, shrugging his shoulders; “it is very observable that he has become quite a fine, elegant gentleman; who will find but little to his taste among us, and who will suit us just as little!  But what are those people forever shouting?” said the Elector, interrupting himself, while he rose impulsively from his armchair, thus obliging the Prince to rise from his knees.  “What infamous hubbub and howling is this, and what do you villains want of us?”

“Nothing further, most noble Elector,” replied Count Schwarzenberg, to whom the Elector had turned with his query—­“nothing further than that your honor drive me away, nothing further than that you dismiss the hated minister, whom they abhor, simply because he is a Catholic and not a Reformer, and because he is named Schwarzenberg and not Rochow or Quitzow, nor blessed with some country bumpkin’s title.”

“I will rout this pack of vagabonds!” cried the Elector.  “Let them dare just once more to let such an opprobrious, insulting shout be heard!”

And, quite forgetting his weakness and his limb so painfully swollen with gout, the Elector went rapidly to the still open corner window, and, leaning far out of it, lifted up his hand, commanding quiet.  The people took this inclination of the body, this movement of the hand, for a token of grace, for a kind salutation on the part of their Sovereign, perhaps even for a granting of their demand.  They roared aloud with delight, waved aloft their hats and caps, their arms and handkerchiefs, and cried and whooped and hurrahed:  “Long live the Elector!  Long live George William!  Long live the Electoral Prince!”

The Elector stepped back and shut the window so violently that the little panes of glass, framed in lead, fairly rattled.

“Frantic populace!” he growled, “they mix up a wretched salad of cheers and curses, mingle weeds with their herbs, and fancy that we will find this devilish compound pleasing to our palates!  We shall remember them for it, and—­”

“Most gracious sir!” cried Count Schwarzenberg, with radiant countenance, approaching the Elector—­“most gracious sir, in this blessed hour of our beloved Electoral Prince’s return, I have a favor to ask of your highness.  His grace has just greeted me so amiably, so condescendingly, that he has caused my heart to overflow with joy, and I feel the strongest desire to give expression to this joy.  The return of the Electoral Prince is just as propitious an event for me as, for the Electoral family, and for all your subjects it is a festive occasion which can not be sufficiently honored, and therefore I entreat your highness to permit me to celebrate it at my house also, and to gratify me by being present yourself at this fete, with all the other members of your exalted family.”

The Elector looked upon his minister with an expression of joyful tenderness, and then turned his glance upon the Electoral Prince, who stood silent, and with lowered eyelids, beside his mother and sisters.