He was silent and sank into an armchair, putting his hands before his face, to shut out the outer world, to be undisturbed in his deep train of thought.

Long he sat there, silent and motionless.  Then he let his hands glide from before his face, which had now again resumed its haughty, composed expression, and arose from his seat.

“I must know what is the meaning of this ghost story,” he said softly to himself.  “Nowhere has the phantom been seen but in the antechamber to the Prince’s rooms.  It did not go like other spirits through walls and closed doors, but must needs open and shut doors, like ordinary mortals.  Yet old Dietrich denies having seen the White Lady in the Electoral Prince’s room.  Then afterward the White Lady was seen outside the castle, she did not vanish through the air, but went out like a human being.  It is a plot, that is clear.  They are conspiring with the Electoral Prince, and profit by the mask to obtain safe access to the castle; or it may be Nietzel, come to confess what he has done to the Prince—­maybe even to bring him a remedy.  I must unravel it!  I am sure the illusion succeeded so well last night that the apparition will be repeated.  I shall make my regulations accordingly, and if it is so, then let the White Lady beware of me, for I am a good conjurer.  I shall go to the castle myself to-night, and when the sentinels flee, I shall go in.  Ah! we shall see who is stronger, the White Lady or the Stadtholder in the Mark!”

Melancholy and quiet reigned all day long in the Electoral palace.  The Elector himself remained in his cabinet and had the court preacher John Bergius called, that he might pray with him and edify him by a few hours’ pious conversation.  But the dreadful uncertainty as to whether the White Lady had appeared in deep mourning or with black gloves still continued to disturb him, and whenever a door opened a shudder crept through his veins, for he thought that the White Lady herself might be coming to call him away.

“I shall leave Berlin,” he said perpetually to himself.  “I shall return to Koenigsberg; for if I stay here I will certainly die of anxiety and distress.  I can not live in the house with a ghost.  I shall go away.  Ah! there is the door opening again!  Who is it?  Who dares come in here?”

“It is I, my husband,” cried the Electress, bursting into tears.  “I am just from our son.”

“How is he?” asked the Elector carelessly.  “Has he at last slept off the fumes of liquor?”

“Alas!  George, I fear this is no case of intoxication, but he is dangerously sick.  The White Lady did not appear for nothing.”

“What, you think she came on our son’s account?” asked the Elector, almost joyfully.  “You think it is not for our—­” He paused and drew a breath of relief, for he felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his soul.  “You really think, my dear, that the White Lady came on our son’s account?”