The Prince laughed aloud, and at the same time drew a deep breath, as if he felt his breast relieved of an oppressive burden.  “Ah,” he said, “is it only this?  The Media Nocte is indeed a society which appears to all those who do not belong to it as a monster, a dragon, which slays with its fiery breath those who approach it, and daily requires for its breakfast a youth or a maiden.  But I tell you, you anxious and short-sighted fools, you take an eagle for a flying dragon, and scream fire merely because you see a bright light!  The Media Nocte is no monster, no Scylla and Charybdis, and we need not on her account have our arms bound, as cunning Ulysses did, which, by the way, always seemed to me very weak and womanly.  A man must go to meet danger with a bold eye, with valiant spirit; he must confront it with his freedom of will and strength, and not seek to defend himself from it by outward means of resistance.  Supposing that the Media Nocte were the dangerous society which you erroneously imagine it to be, need this be a ground for me to intrench myself timidly against it and flee its touch?  No; just for that very reason would I seek it out—­advance to meet it with the determination to do battle with it.  But I tell you that you are mistaken in your premises!  The Media Nocte is a society devoted to noble pleasures, to pure joys, to the highest, most intellectual enjoyments.  All the arts, all the sciences, are fostered by it.  All that is great and good, exalted and beautiful, is hailed there with delight, and only pedantry and stupidity are held aloof.  Truth and nature are the two sacred laws observed in this society, and the noble, pure, free, and chaste Grecian spirit is the great exemplar of all its members.  Therefore they all appear in Greek robes, and all their banquets are solemnized in the Greek style.  And this it is which you wise, pedantic people stigmatize as blameworthy and abominable.  The unusual fills you with horror, and the genial you call bold because it soars above what is commonplace!”

“Well do I know that your highness looks upon the society in this way,” replied Leuchtmar, regarding with loving glances the handsome, excited countenance of the Prince.  “Yes, I know that this is the only view you have had of the society of the Media Nocte, and that you would turn from it with horror and disgust if you were conscious of the license lurking behind its apparent geniality, the coarseness behind the unusual.  But I beseech you, Prince, be not blind with your eyes open, close not voluntarily the avenues to light.  I swear to you as an honest and a truthful man, that this society is like a plague spot for the noble youth of The Hague.  Each one who touches it becomes impregnated with its poison, and sickens in spirit and imagination, and the fearful poison flows into his mind and heart, driving out from them forever truth and freshness, youth and innocence!  Had I a son who belonged to this society with full understanding and appreciation of its meaning, I should mourn and lament him as one lost; had I a daughter, and had she even once voluntarily attended a meeting of the Media Nocte and participated in its pleasures, then should I thrust her from me with aversion and disgust—­should no longer recognize her as my daughter, but forever expel her from my house in shame and disgust, for—­”