“The letter contains bad news?” he said breathlessly.

“Not merely bad but astonishing news,” replied the count, with forced composure.  “The Elector here makes several requirements of me, and not directly, but through his private secretary Goetz.”

“What presumption!” exclaimed his son passionately.

“How can that little Elector dare to forward a writ of chancery to you, the mighty and influential Stadtholder in the Mark, instead of addressing his desires and requests to you privately in his own handwriting?”

“It shows at all events a little negligence and want of formality,” replied his father thoughtfully, “although the Elector may certainly plead as his excuse the many claims upon his time.  For the same reason he only gave Schulenburg verbal messages for me.”

“And may I ask what the Elector demands of your grace?  Or is this an indiscretion on my part?”

“No, my son, you shall learn it.  In the first place, the Elector requires me to send unopened to him at Koenigsberg all letters arriving here addressed to him, and not to open and answer them in his name as hitherto.  The Elector further desires me to conclude no act of government without having previously called together the privy council.  In the third place, the Elector directs me forthwith to require of all the governors and officers of the forts an oath of allegiance to himself.  He lastly asks, if I can make it convenient to come to Prussia, that we may confer together, and that he may have the benefit of my aid and advice.”

“And what answer will your grace return to these demands?”

“As regards the first requirement, I shall reply that the Elector’s will is law, and that all writings shall be henceforth forwarded to him unopened.  As to the second demand, I shall represent that it is now simply impossible to gratify, since only a single member of the old privy council is yet alive.  As to binding the officers and commandants by oath to their duty,” continued the count slowly, “I shall but require a token of their disposition to fulfill existing engagements.  And lastly, as the Elector wishes it, I can hardly refuse him my advice; so that I will go to him in Prussia.”

“No,” cried Count Adolphus impatiently, “no, father, you shall not.  You shall not accept this artfully contrived invitation.  You dare not go to Prussia.  My God, sir, are your usually keen and penetrating eyes so blinded that they can not see what is so very palpable?  Do you really not perceive that the Elector only wants to entice you away, in order to get you in his power, in order noiselessly and quietly to put you out of the way?  Ostensibly you are to go to Koenigsberg to advise the young, inexperienced Elector.  That is the pretext, the sand which they would scatter in the eyes of yourself, your friends, the Emperor, yea, all Germany, so that no one can see what is going on, or by any possibility guess what will happen.  You may set out for Koenigsberg, but you will never get there; you will meet with an accident on the way—­either your carriage will be overset and you fatally injured, or robbers fall upon you in the woods and murder you.  However it may be, only as a dead man will you arrive at Koenigsberg, and the Elector will have nothing further to do than to decree your magnificent obsequies!”