eptre in the hands of winter. The guests of Rheinsberg should once
more enjoy the careless gayety of a happy day, before they returned to
the winter saloons, on whose threshold Etiquette awaited them, with her
forced smile, her robes of ceremony and her orders and titles.

The ladies and gentlemen had been transformed, therefore, into gods and
goddesses, nymphs, and hamadryads, fauns, satyrs, and wood-spirits.
The horn of Diana resounded once more in the wood, through which the
enchanting huntress passed, accompanied by Endymion, who was pursued
by Actaeon. There was Apollo and the charming Daphne; Echo and the vain
Narcissus; and, on the bank of the lake, which gleamed in the midst of
the forest, the water-nymphs danced in a fairy-circle with the tritons.

The prince had himself made all the arrangements for this fantastic
fete; he had selected the character, and appointed the place of every
one, and, that nothing should fail, he had ordered all to seek their
pleasures and adventures as they would--only, when the horn of the
goddess Diana should sound, all must appear on the shore of the lake
to partake of a most luxurious meal. The remainder of the day was to be
given to the voluntary pleasures which each one would seek or make for
himself, and in this the ladies and gentlemen showed themselves more
ingenious than usual. In every direction goddesses were to be seen
gliding through the bushes to escape the snares of some god, or seeking
some agreeable rendezvous. At the edge of the lake lay charming gondolas
ready for those who wished to rest and refresh themselves by a sail upon
the dancing waves. For the hunters and huntresses targets were placed
upon the trees; all kinds of fire-arms and cross-bows and arrows lay
near them. Scattered throughout the forest, were a number of small huts,
entirely covered with the bark of trees, and looking like a mass
of fallen wood, but comfortably and even elegantly arranged in the
interior. Every one of these huts was numbered, and at the beginning
of the fete every lady had drawn a number from an urn, which was to
designate the hut which belonged to her. Chance alone had decided, and
each one had given her word not to betray the number of her cabin. From
this arose a seeking and spying, a following and listening, which gave
a peculiar charm to the fete. Every nymph or goddess could find a refuge
in her cabin; having entered it, it was only necessary to display the
ivy wreath, which