“Well then, no.  You have ever been only a source of delight to your teachers and preceptors, and have ever proved yourself a kind-hearted, friendly, and condescending young Prince.  You have (forgive me for saying so) been indeed the model of a young, amiable, good, and intellectual Prince.  You have completed your studies at the universities of Arnheim and Leyden to the highest satisfaction of your professors.  You have distinguished yourself at the colleges by diligence and attention, and perfected yourself in the languages and mastered all the sciences.  Since you have been here at The Hague you have won for yourself the love and admiration of all those who have had the good fortune to come into your presence—­”

“Leuchtmar,” interrupted the Prince, with difficulty suppressing a smile—­“Leuchtmar, now you are falling into the opposite error; before you blamed me too much, now you praise me too much!”

“Prince, I spoke before as now, only according to my inmost convictions, and you permit me still to utter these, do you not?”

“Well,” said Frederick William, hesitating, “the thing is—­if your convictions are too flattering or too injurious, you might moderate them a little.  For example, the way you acted in my sleeping room, a little while ago, was injurious.  Just acknowledge it—­say that you went a little too far, that it was not becoming in you to find fault with me, because I sat up a few hours too late, and all is made up.”

“Prince,” replied Leuchtmar, after a slight pause—­“Prince, forgive me, but I can not say it, for it would be an untruth.  For a Prince, want of punctuality is a very dangerous and bad fault, and if he first becomes unreliable in his outer being, he will be so soon in his inner nature as well.  But I do admit that perhaps I spoke in too excited a tone of voice, and the reason of that was, because—­”

“Well?  Be pleased to finish your sentence.  Because—­”

“Because, yes, let it be spoken plainly, because I know what this keeping of late hours means.”

“And what does it mean, if I may ask?”

“Prince, my dear, beloved Prince, you whom in the depths of my soul I call my son, Prince, forgive me if I answer.  It means that you have fallen into bad company—­company which it is beneath your dignity to keep, company alike prejudicial to your mind and honor as to your health.”

“Of what company do you dare to speak so?” asked the Prince, with wrathful voice.

“Prince, of that company which is hypocritical and deceitful as sin, dazzling and alluring as a poisonous flower, dangerous and deadly as Scylla and Charybdis, of the company of the Media Nocte.”