He went back to Berlin, and repaired forthwith to the palace.  The Electoral Prince was at home, and the lackey who had announced the court painter Gabriel Nietzel now reverentially opened for him the door of the princely apartment.

“Well, here you are, my dear Gabriel,” cried the Electoral Prince affably.  “Welcome, to receive my thanks for the zeal and dispatch with which you attended to the removal of my effects.  Truly you merit praise, for I am told that you arrived in Berlin before me.  We had contrary winds, it is true, and had to lie at anchor before Cuxhaven for fourteen days.  Well, say, master, how are you pleased with Berlin?”

“Very well, your highness,” replied Nietzel gloomily, looking into the pale, sad countenance of the Electoral Prince with a glance full of strange meaning.

“Why do you look so inquiringly at me, master?” asked the Prince restively.

“Pardon me, most gracious sir, I will not do so again,” said Gabriel, casting down his eyes.  “I have something to say to your highness, and I would fain gather the needed courage therefore from your countenance.”

“Do so then, master, look at me and speak.”

“Step into the middle of the room, gracious sir, and permit me to come close to you; then I will speak, for I shall know then that no one can overhear us.”

The Electoral Prince did as Gabriel requested.  The latter stepped close up to his side.  “Most gracious sir,” said he, “have you confidence in me?”

“Yes, Gabriel Nietzel, I have confidence in you.”

“Then hear what I have to tell you.  Ask no questions, require no intelligence and explanations.  Hear my warning, and act accordingly.  Count Schwarzenberg plots against your life!”

“Do you believe that?” said the Electoral Prince, smiling.

“He has invited you to a feast, which is to take place on Sunday.  At that feast you are to be poisoned.”

The Electoral Prince started, and a transient flush gleamed upon his cheeks.  “Whence know you that, Gabriel Nietzel?”

“I beseech you ask me no questions, but believe me.  Will your highness do so?—­dare I speak further?”

“Well, I will believe you.  Speak further, Master Gabriel.”

“I told you thus much, that you were to be poisoned at Count Adam von Schwarzenberg’s banquet.  The count’s valet has been bribed by him; he will have the honor of waiting upon you at the feast, and he will therefore present to you all you eat or drink, even down to the bread.  Do not accept them from him, your highness, especially the bread.”

“I shall at least eat nothing, Gabriel Nietzel.”

“When he sees that, he will offer you some fruit or viand which will prove hurtful to you.  The count’s valet must not stand behind your seat, that is the principal thing; another must take his place, another, on whose fidelity you may rely.”

“Who is that other?  Where is the man to be found in these parts on whose fidelity I may rely?”