“Dietrich,” said the Prince composedly, “you will take care that no one disturbs my slumbers.  I command you so to do!”

“I shall obey, most gracious sir,” murmured Dietrich.

“When you awake after six hours,” continued Rebecca, “you will experience a feeling of ineffable comfort.  Be not deluded by this, and attempt to leave your couch.  Rest is necessary for you, and you are then only on the road to health.  That you may be perfectly cured I must come again to-morrow night, and once more administer the cordial.  Mind that to-morrow night, as at present, you be alone.  No one must be with you but old Dietrich.  He is a trusty, affectionate servant, and I hope to God will tell no one what he has seen and heard here, for I would be lost if he should do so.”

“I swear, in the presence of Almighty God, that I will keep silence,” said Dietrich solemnly.

“And now, enough of words!” cried she.  “See, Dietrich, the pains begin anew, and his features twitch convulsively.  We must procure him relief.”

She took a glass from the table and emptied into it half of the brown liquid contained in her little flask.  Then she bent over the Prince and held the glass to his lips.

“Drink this,” she said, with solemnity, “and may the Lord our God bless the potion to you!”

The Prince drank in long draughts, emptying the glass to the last drop.  Then he uttered one shriek, and sank back senseless on the pillow.

“If you have murdered him,” cried Dietrich, shaking his fist with menacing gesture—­“if you have murdered him, be sure that I shall find you out and hand you over to the hang-man.”

She slowly turned and once more drew the long white veil over her face.  “To-morrow night I shall come again,” she said.  “Attend well to him, Dietrich, and see that he swallows nothing but what you give him yourself.”

Then she opened the door and stepped out.  The corridor was still empty and tenantless; the sentinels had not yet ventured to return to their posts.  They had all collected below in the guardroom, which was situated in the rear of the castle toward the Spree, and, pale with agitation and horror, were talking in whispers of the awful event.  All at once it seemed to them as if a white shadow glided past outside the windows, as if two great, sparkling eyes looked in upon them.  They jumped up, rushed out of the room, and out of the castle, shrieking out to the town, “The White Lady! the White Lady!”

A couple of inquisitive men coming from Schwarzenberg’s palace heard the shriek of terror and screamed it to others, and like a tempest of wind it rolled on, dragged everything into its eddying circle of awe and fright, rushed howling through the night and penetrated into the brilliantly lighted palace of Count Schwarzenberg, even into the ball-room, where the tired couples were whirling in the last dance.

“The White Lady! the White Lady has appeared in the castle!”