awakened in his mind. In vain
he summoned to his aid the portrait of that beloved being, whom he
hoped soon to call his own for ever; in vain he painted, in the most
glowing colours, to his imagination, all the charms of domestic
happiness in her company; he was still unable to shake off the gloomy
ideas which the sight of the castle had produced on his mind. Whatever
was the cause of it, whether it was the Duke's lofty character, which
he had so nobly manifested in misfortune, and which had created so deep
a feeling of admiration in the breast of the young man, or whether
nature had gifted him with an extraordinary perception into future
events, he remained riveted to the spot in deep thought. Persuaded that
the Duke's affairs were any thing but prosperous, he felt himself in
duty bound to warn him against some unforeseen impending danger which
irresistibly haunted his mind.

"Why so much wrapped in thought, young man?" asked an unknown voice
behind him, and roused him from his reverie: "I should have thought
Albert von Sturmfeder had reason to be of good cheer."

Albert turned round in surprise, and cast his eyes upon the chancellor,
Ambrosius Holland. If this man had struck Albert the night before, as
being peculiarly forbidding by his officious courteousness, his
cat-like sneaking manner, he was now more confirmed in his dislike,
when he remarked the deformity of his person, rendered more conspicuous
by an overladen finery of dress. His dark-yellow shrivelled-up face,
with an eternal hypocritical smile upon it, his green eyes peeping out
under long grey eyelashes, his highly inflamed eyelids, and scanty
beard, contrasted strangely with a red velvet cap, and a gown made of
bright yellow silk, which hung over his hump. Under the gown he wore a
grass-green dress, slashed with rose-coloured silk, his knee-bands
being of the same material, fastened with enormous rosettes. His head
was stuck close between his shoulders, and the red cap, which he
carried on it, appeared to belong equally to the hump. It was a great
joke of the executioner of Stuttgardt, that of all heads, that of the
chancellor Ambrosius Bolland would appear to be the most difficult to
cut off.

This was the man who looked up at Albert von Sturmfeder with a
courteous smile. He addressed him with smooth words, "Perhaps you don't
know me, my much esteemed young friend: I am Ambrosius Bolland, the
chancellor of his highness. I come to wish you a good morn