“And did he tell you his name, Lehndorf?” asked the count, as he walked forward.

“Yes indeed, noble sir,” laughed the chamberlain; “with monstrously important air he whispered his name in my ear, as if he had been the Pope in disguise or the Emperor himself.  I laughed outright, and left him standing.”

The count now stood close before the wide-open doors which led into the grand reception hall.  The halberdiers struck upon the ground with their gold-headed staves; in the spacious, magnificently decorated hall appeared a dense throng of army officers in their glittering uniforms and civil dignitaries in their ceremonial garbs of office.  Six pages, in richly embroidered velvet suits, stood on both sides of the door, while in the raised gilded balcony opposite the musicians arose and began to pour forth a thundering peal of welcome as soon as they caught sight of the Stadtholder.

Count Schwarzenberg, however, took no notice of this; he stood upon the threshold of the door, and his smiling face was still turned upon his chamberlain.

“What name did the fellow give?” asked he carelessly.

“Oh, a very fine name, gracious sir.  He had the same name as the blessed archangel—­Gabriel!”

“Gabriel?” echoed the count hastily and at the top of his voice, for the musicians played so loud that a man could hardly hear his own voice, even though he shouted.  “Only Gabriel, nothing further?”

“Yes, most gracious sir,” screamed the chamberlain, “he did call a second name; but I confess I did not pay much attention to it.  I believe, though, it was Nietzel.  Yes, yes, I am quite sure he said Gabriel Nietzel!”

He shouted this out very loud, not observing, as he pronounced his last words, that the music had ceased; the name Gabriel Nietzel, therefore, rang like a loud call through the vast apartment, and the brilliant, courtly assemblage laughed, although they understood not the connection between the loud call and the hushing of the music.  Chamberlain von Lehndorf laughed too, and turned smiling to the count to apologize for his involuntary transgression.

But Count Schwarzenberg did not laugh; he looked pale, and with trembling lips addressed his chamberlain:  “Lehndorf, hurry out and conduct the soldier to my antechamber.  Tell him I will come to him directly.  Do not let the man get out of your sight, watch him closely.  In five minutes, as soon as I have welcomed my guests, I will come to the antechamber and speak to the fellow myself.  Go!”

The chamberlain flew off to obey this behest, and the Stadtholder entered the hall.  Behind him were ranged the twelve pages in their glittering clothes, then followed the officers of the household in splendid uniforms.  Again the trumpets of the musicians sent forth their animating peals, and, ranged around the hall in a wide circle, the staff officers, high dignitaries, lords of the supreme court and of the