make up his mind to take voluntary leave of the world; for he has as yet
no feeling of completed existence and of duty performed to take away
with him; his life is still a blank. Therefore at this moment he must
act exactly as he does act; to be sure, the poet must not leave him in
this doubtful stage for any length of time; but neither, indeed, does he
do so. The Electress considers that any further step would be useless,
as she has already of her own accord done her utmost. Nathalie, however,
with death in her heart, promises to venture one last word with her
uncle for the fallen man, but bitterly advises the Prince in any case to
take another look at his grave, and to persuade himself that it is not
one whit gloomier than the battle has showed it a thousand times.

In the fourth act Nathalie keeps her promise, and the Elector sends her
with a mysterious letter to the Prince in his prison. He tells her
laconically that the Prince is saved just as surely as pardon lies in
his own wish. She brings the letter to the prisoner and he reads: "If
you believe that I have been unjust, tell me, I beg you, in a word or
two, and forthwith I will send you back your sword." Such words could be
used only by the majesty which would be revered even without a crown,
and the Prince feels it at once. "I cannot tell him that!" he cries out
when Nathalie presses him to write as the letter bids him. "What
matter?" he answers curtly, when she assures him that the regiment has
been detailed, which is to render the burial honors above his grave by
the thunder of their muskets. "I will tell him 'You did right!'" he
cries, when she continues to urge him; and he does so! He realizes that
the sovereign who summons him to judge himself, cannot have acted thus
toward him, in order to play the Brutus, or from heartless despotism. It
becomes clear to him that war, yes the State itself, rests upon the
principle of subordination, and that the commander must first perform in
his own person what he would require from his subordinates. He
determines,--and this too, be it noted, in the presence of the girl he
loves,--to make satisfaction to the offended code of war, and thus crush
again the Hydra of anarchy, which his arbitrary action, crowned with
victory though it was, might very well lead to. "And though twelve
bullets made you bite the dust this instant," cries Nathalie transported
with admiration, "I could not resist rejoicing, sobbing, crying: 'Thus
y