in all Frankfort was not to be found among the
mighty who ruled the Empire, or among the merchants who trafficked
therein, or among the people who starved when there was no traffic. The
most anxious man was a small, fussy individual of great importance in
his own estimation, cringing to those above him, denouncing those
beneath; Herr Durnberg, Master of the Romer, in other words, the Keeper
of the Town Hall. The great masters whom this little master served were
imperious and unreasonable. They gave him too little information
regarding their intentions, yet if he failed in his strict duty towards
them, they would crush him as ruthlessly as if he were a wasp.

Unhappy Durnberg! Every morning he expected the Electoral Court to be
convened that day, and every evening he was disappointed. It was his
first duty to lay out upon the table in that great room, the Kaisersaal,
a banquet, to be partaken of by the newly-made Emperor, and by the seven
potentates who elected him. It was also his duty to provide two huge
tanks of wine, one containing the ruby liquor pressed out at
Assmannshausen; the other the straw-colored beverage that had made
Hochheim famous. These tanks were connected by pipes with the plain,
unassuming fountain standing opposite the Town Hall in that square
called the Romerberg. The moment an election took place Herr Durnberg
turned off the flow of water from the fountain, and turned on the flow
of wine, thus for an hour and a half there poured from the northward
pointing spout of the fountain the rich red wine of Assmannshausen, and
from the southern spout the delicate white wine of Hochheim. Now, wine
will keep for a long time, but a dinner will not, so the distracted
Durnberg prepared banquet after banquet for which there were no
consumers.

At last, thought Herr Durnberg, his vigilance was about to be rewarded.
There came up the broad, winding stair, to the landing on which opened
the great doors of the Kaisersaal, two joyous-looking young people,
evidently lovers, and with the hilt of his sword the youth knocked
against the stout panels of the door. It was Herr Durnberg himself who
opened, and he said haughtily--

"The Romer is closed, and will not be free to strangers until after the
Election."

"We enter, nevertheless. I am Prince Roland, here to meet the Court of
Electors, who convene at midday in the adjoining Wahlzimmer. You,
Romer-meister, will announce to their august Lordships that I am here,
a