hall was lighted up, the tables at which the gods had reclined vanished, geniuses hovered about, strewing the ground with fragrant flowers, and in glad confusion mingled gods and goddesses, heroes and demigods, with sparkling eyes and beating hearts.  They poetized and sang, praised the gods, and laughed and shouted, “Long live the Media Nocte!  Long live those great minds and noble hearts which belong to it!” And all was bustle, stir, and song!

Endymion forsook Olympus, entered the nearest grotto amid the rocks, and slipped into the little cavern to the left.  Venus was still in the hall.  To her came Hercules and softly whispered, “All is ready!”

“But where?  Tell me, where?  It seems to me like a dream!  You see how I trust you, for without question have I done everything just as the paper directed.  Here I am, in the Media Nocte, and know not at all what remains to be done!”

“The marriage ceremony and flight, fair Venus!  Listen, however, to this one thing!  In close proximity to this house, as you well know, stands the hotel of the French embassy.  Well, gracious lady, walls can be leveled, and my enchanter Ducato can turn them into doors!  Repair to the grotto hall and the cavern on the right.  There will Venus be transformed into the Princess Ludovicka, and still be Venus!  Then cross over to the cavern on the left, where, instead of Endymion, waits the Electoral Prince.  She gives him her hand!  My enchanter Ducato sees it, and all the rest takes care of itself.  Only follow the god within your own breast!  Only one thing more, Princess!  Be Venus to him, and ravish his heart and soul, that he may not delay to sign the contract and inquire into its contents.”

“Be not uneasy,” smiles Venus proudly; “he will sign anything to be able to call me his.”

Louder resound the peals of music, and all the gods sing and laugh and jest and shout.  And the Bacchantes swing to and fro their ivy-wreathed staves, and their mouths with ecstasy pour forth their stammering songs of mirth!  Venus has soared away!  But no one observes it.  Each is his own deity, here in the Media Nocte.  Oh, blessed night of the gods!  Forget that the wretched day of man will return in the morning!  Louder resound the strains of music, and all is bustle, stir, and song there in Olympus!

From the cavern on the right steps forth the Princess Ludovicka in white satin robe, a myrtle wreath twined in her hair, and behind her sweeps her veil like a silver cloud.  Venus!  Venus ever! full of sweet enchantment!

She goes to the cavern on the left, and gently knocks.  The door springs open, and she enters.  It is bright within, and the Electoral Prince, in gold-embroidered suit, comes to meet her with beaming eyes, looks upon her radiant with happiness, and sinks down at her feet.  Endymion!  Endymion ever!  Enchained by sweet magic!  A door flies open; nobody has opened it, but there it is.  The Electoral Prince jumps up and offers the Princess his hand.  Neither of the two speaks, for their hearts are beating overloud.