“I fear so, alas!  I fear so!  My son is sick and will probably die, and our house will be left desolate, become extinct, and ingloriously decay.  Oh, my son! my son!  I had built all my hopes upon him, and when I thought of him the future looked bright and promising.”

“And if he were no more, then would all look sad and gloomy to you, although your husband would still be at your side, which rightfully ought to console you.  But you have ever been a cold wife to me and a tender mother to your son, and it really vexes me to see how you love the son and despise his father.  What an ado you make merely because your son has taken a little too much liquor, and suffers from the effects of intoxication, as the doctor says!”

“But I tell you, George, the Electoral Prince is sick, and the White Lady—­”

“I will hear no more of that,” broke in the Elector passionately; “it is a silly, idle tale, not worthy of credit.  Everybody is dinning it into my ears to-day, and it is simply intolerable to have to listen.  I just wish that I could leave this place, to be rid of this tiresome ghost story, and not to have to undergo such torment and vexation.  In Koenigsberg, at least, we live in peace and quiet, and are not forever plagued by the sight of sullen faces and perpetual threats of war and pestilence.  In Koenigsberg Castle, too, the White Lady has never appeared, and there are no nightly apparitions there.”

“Let us return to Koenigsberg, George!” cried the Electress.  “Do so for our son’s sake; I tell you if we stay here, he is lost!  Death stands forever at his side, threatening his precious young life!  Ask me not what I mean, for I can not explain myself; yet I feel that I am right, and that he is lost if we do not speedily depart.  Only listen this one time to my entreaties and representations, my husband.  Let us set out before it is too late.”

“Well then, Elizabeth, I will do as you wish,” said George William, who was glad that he could grant his wife what he so ardently wished himself.  “Yes, we shall promptly depart, since you urge it so pressingly.”

The Electress gently encircled her husband’s neck with her arm and imprinted a kiss upon his brow.  “Thank you, George,” she whispered.  “You have probably saved our son from death.  May the merciful God grant him restoration to health, and so soon as this is the case let us set off.”

“Make all your preparations then, Elizabeth, for I tell you your tenderly beloved son is only a little tipsy, and to-morrow will be well as ever.”

“God grant that you speak the truth, George.  Then let us commence our journey day after to-morrow,” which is Wednesday.  But hark!  I have one more request to make of you.  Tell no one of our projected trip.  Let us make our preparations in perfect secrecy.”

“For all that I care,” growled the Elector.  “The principal thing is to be off.  Abode here has been hateful to me ever since I heard those shouts of the populace the day our son returned.  I can not live in a city where the mob undertakes to meddle in government affairs, and even prescribes to its Sovereign the dismissal of his minister.  It is an uproarious, insolent rabble, the rabble of Berlin, and I shall not feel glad or tranquil until I have left the place.”