Oh, King’s daughter, King’s daughter, you need not fear, you are so charming, so attractive; surely you will win his heart, and he will woo you not merely from political motives, but from love!

Does he see you, and is he looking up at you?  No, he only looks up at the King as he now stands at the foot of the throne, beside that magnificent cushion studded with emeralds and pearls.  His knights and bodyguard range themselves to the right and left of the throne, and reserve a small open space in the midst of the broad square, which is densely thronged by masses of people behind the closed ranks of the soldiers.  In this small vacant space stands he, the young Elector of Brandenburg!

High is his head, radiant the glance which he now lifts higher than the King’s throne.  Looks he at you, Princess Hildegarde, gazes he upon you, fair maiden of a royal line?

No, his glance mounts higher; to heaven itself he raises both eye and thought!  He communes with God and the forefathers of his house, who once, like him, stood at the foot of that throne.  And he vows before God and his ancestors that he will be the last Hohenzollern to submit to such humiliation and bend the knee as vassal to the Polish King.  He will free his land and crown, and be the vassal of none but God alone!

So swore the Elector Frederick William as he stood at the foot of the throne on which sat the Polish King, resplendent with his crown and scepter, and this oath made his countenance beam with joy and his eyes flame with energy and spirit.

Now is heard the flourish of trumpets and kettledrums, and the bell of every tower in Warsaw rings, for the solemn act begins:  the Duke of Prussia is to swear allegiance to the King of Poland!

Three cannon thunder from the ramparts!  The bells grow dumb, the trumpets and drums are silent!  A breathless stillness pervades that spacious square.  The people with dark, flashing eyes gaze curiously upon the heretic, the unbeliever, who is to swear fealty to his Catholic Majesty.  The Polish deputies look threateningly upon the bold duke, who dared to enter upon the government of Prussia before he had given his oath of allegiance; the papal nuncio turns his head aside with sorrowful looks, and can not bear to see a heretic, an apostate, invested with authority over a Catholic country.

The King, however, smiles good-naturedly, and the ladies from the balcony in the rear kindly incline their heads and blushingly greet the young Elector, who, doffing his plumed hat, gracefully salutes them.

Three senators approach the Elector.  One holds out to him the red feudal banner, which the Elector grasps firmly in his right hand.  The second offers him the Juramentum fidelitatis (oath of fidelity), on which the young Prince is to lay his hands and swear.  The third holds in his hand the parchment on which is inscribed the feudal oath.  The high chancellor now descends from the steps of the throne