the chamber myself,” said his majesty; the seriousness of his deportment and the paleness of his countenance indicating a strange mixture of determination and superstitious awe.  He quitted the cabinet with the unhesitating step of one resolved to obtain mastery over himself; the legislator of etiquette, and the regulator of bodies, each with a lighted taper, followed him with fear and trembling.  The keeper of the keys had already retired to rest; Baumgarten was despatched by the king to awaken him, and to order him forthwith to open the doors of the council-chamber.  Unbounded was the worthy keeper’s surprise at the unexpected intimation.  Benign Providence, however, has ordained monarchs to command, and created keepers of keys to obey.  The prudent Cerberus yawned, dressed himself in haste, and presented himself before his sovereign with the insignia of his office, a bunch of keys of various dimensions suspended at his girdle.  He commenced by opening the door of a gallery, which served as a sort of ante-room to the council-chamber.  The king entered; but his astonishment may be conceived, on finding the walls of the building entirely hung with black.  “By whose order has this been done?” demanded the king in a tone of anger.  “Sire,” replied the trembling keeper of the keys, “I am ignorant; the last time the gallery was opened it was wainscoted with oak, as usual, most assuredly these hangings are not from your majesty’s wardrobe.”  The king, however, had by this time traversed at a rapid pace two-thirds of the gallery, without stopping to avail himself of the worshipful warden’s conjectures.  The latter personage and the grand chamberlain followed his majesty, whilst the learned doctor lingered a little in the rear.  “Sire,” cried the keeper of the keys, “I beseech your majesty to go no farther.  As I have a living soul, there is witchcraft in this matter.  At this hour ... and since the death of the queen, God be gracious to us!  It is said that her majesty walks every night in this gallery.”  “Hold, Sire!” cried the Count in his turn, “do you not hear a strange noise which seems to proceed from the council-chamber?  Who can foresee the danger to which your majesty may expose your sacred person?” “Forward!” replied the resolute monarch in an imperative tone; and as he stopped before the door of the council-chamber, “Quick! your keys!” said he to the keeper.  He pushed the door violently with his foot, and the noise, repeated by the echoes of the vaulted roof, resounded through the gallery like the report of a cannon.  The old keeper trembled; he tried one key, then another, but without success; his hand shook, his sight was confused.  “A soldier, and afraid?” cried Charles with a smile.  “Come, Count, you must be our usher:  open that door.”  “Sire,” replied the grand chamberlain stepping backwards, “if your majesty command me to walk up to the mouth of a Danish cannon, I will obey on the instant; but you will not order me to combat with the devil and his imps?” The monarch