howl of some sucking pig or dog over which the hunting equipage
had rolled; but it paused not for these, and in a few moments halted in
safety before the mean little portal of that small, dark mansion, honored
with the title of the Elector's residential palace, which was situated on
the other side of the cathedral square, near the Spree and the pleasure
garden.

Before the portal stood a wretched carriage, covered with mud and drawn by
four raw-boned horses, whose trappings and harness were wholly wanting in
polish and neatness.

"The Elector means to ride out, it seems," said the count to himself, with
a contemptuous glance at the poor electoral equipage.

"Drive a little aside!" screamed the count's well-dressed coachman from
his box. "Let his excellency the Stadtholder drive up to the door, for it
is just impossible for the count to alight here in this mud."

But the coachman only shook his head proudly, in token of refusal, and
darted a look full of inexpressible contempt upon the Stadtholder's
presumptuous driver.

"Drive out of the way!" shouted the count's coachman.

"Here I stand, and here I mean to stay until the Elector comes!"

"Let him remain, William, and speak not another word," commanded Count
Schwarzenberg. "Drive my carriage up so close to the electoral carriage
that I can conveniently step in."

The coachman obeyed, and the electoral charioteer, who had begun the
contention with the supercilious driver of the Stadtholder with inward
satisfaction, and hoped for a long protraction of the same, now felt
himself foiled, and saw with inexpressible astonishment the coachman turn
around, with rapid sweep make the circuit of the square, and draw up close
beside the electoral equipage. Before he yet comprehended the object of
this manoeuvre, the count had stretched forth his arm, opened with his own
hand the door of the electoral coach, stepped into it, opened the door on
the other side, and stepped out on the broad leather-covered plank which
extended like a sort of drawbridge from the threshold of the palace garden
to the electoral carriage.

"Bravo, Schwarzenberg, bravo!" called out a laughing voice, and as the
count, standing midway on the plank, looked up, he saw the Elector above
at the open window, nodding to him with friendly gesture, and greeting him
with a cheerful smile.

"That was good for the brazen scoundrel, Fritz Long," called down the
Elector; "how could the rascal dare not to move o