e you were to visit the picture galleries in
order to make copies. You have not executed my commissions, for you have
returned home too soon. That is all, and therefore all connection between
us is dissolved. Farewell, Mr. Court Painter Gabriel Nietzel; you are
dismissed!"

He haughtily motioned to the door, turned his back upon the painter, and
slowly traversed the apartment. But Gabriel Nietzel did not go. There he
stood as if rooted to the spot, and stared fixedly at the count, who
walked to and fro, as if lost in thought, and seemed to be wholly
unconscious that the painter had dared still to remain in his presence.
After a long pause his eye fell quite accidentally on the spot where
Gabriel Nietzel stood, and he started as if in sudden terror.

"Why, you still here?" he asked. "You dare to brave me? To terrify me with
your dull, pale face? Have you grown deaf, Mr. Court Painter? Did you not
hear me dismiss you?"

"I heard, but your honor knows that I can not go. Your lordship well knows
that from your lips I await the sentence which is to seal my whole future
fate, and that I will not leave this room until I have received this."

"How? You will not leave this room. You will stay although I have bidden
you go? Very well, then, I shall call my servants and have you put out."

And already the count's hand was stretched forth to take his silver
whistle. But Gabriel Nietzel dared to grasp this hand and hold it firmly
between both his own.

"Pity, gracious sir, pity!" he pleaded. "Drive me from your presence, take
from me the pension you most condescendingly insured to me; I feel that I
am indeed undeserving of your favor and graciousness. Only, for pity's
sake, for humanity's sake, restore to me my own--give me my wife and
child!"

"What have I to do with your wife and child?" asked Count Schwarzenberg
angrily. "Have you handed them over to me? Am I the chief of an asylum for
deserted women and children?"

"My wife, Sir Count, give me back my wife!" cried Gabriel Nietzel, sinking
down upon his knees.

"I know nothing about her, I have never seen her," said the count.

"You do know about her, your excellency! You took her and my dear,
precious child under your protection when I went to The Hague. You had my
wife and child carried to, Spandow, and gave them an abode within your
palace there."

"Now I see plainly that you speak like a deranged man, Master Gabriel
Nietzel," cried the count passionately. "Collec