r Gabriel Nietzel, and those who do know him
will surely never imagine that it is he who to-day acts as page to the
Electoral Prince Frederick William. He mingles with the host of
gold-bedizened servants and lackeys in the entrance hall, and follows them
into the banqueting hall. The doors of the house are closed; for the
gaping crowd without the festival is ended, for the high-born guests
within it is but just begun. The two wings of the doors leading into the
banqueting hall are thrown open by the halberdiers, the musicians in the
gilded balcony to the rear blow a loud, dashing flourish, and the Elector
enters the hall, followed by the Electress, who leans upon the arm of
Count Schwarzenberg. On both sides of the hall stand the lords and ladies
of the nobility, who bow down to the ground, nothing being visible but the
bowed necks of men, the courtesying forms of women--all is reverence,
solemnity, and silence. In the middle of the long table, just before that
immense, solid mirror of Venetian crystal, are the places of the Electoral
pair, as may be seen by those throne-like armchairs, on whose tall,
straight backs is carved a golden crown--as may be seen by the glittering
gold plate of both covers.

How gorgeously is the long table laid, nothing to be seen but gold and
silver plate! In the center is a huge piece of chased silver, representing
Cupids and genii, who in golden shells, cornucopias, and vases offer the
rarest fruits, the most delicious confections! Before each lady's plate,
in wondrously cut goblets, is a magnificent bouquet of flowers; before
each gentleman's, a silver bowl. A gold-bedizened lackey is behind each
chair; two stand behind the chairs of each of their Electoral Highnesses.

"Why stands that page behind the Electoral Prince's chair?" asks the
Stadtholder, loud enough to be heard by the Prince, who is near him.

Frederick William breaks off in the midst of his conversation with the
young Count John Adolphus, and turns smilingly to the Stadtholder.

"Pardon, your grace," says he kindly. "I wished to preserve a memento of
this handsome entertainment, the first entertainment by which my return
home has been solemnized, and with my father's permission I have brought
with me the court painter Gabriel Nietzel, in order that he may look upon
the feast and make a sketch of the scene. Since, of course, he could have
no place at the table, he has assumed a page's garb, that he may have the
privilege of