ch follows too free indulgence in wine,
Sir Chamberlain?" asked the doctor gravely. "If so, you know exactly how
the Electoral Prince feels."

"Badly enough," laughed Herr von Goetz. "I have certainly had my own
frightful experiences of that sickness. You think then, doctor, I may
without impropriety return to Count Schwarzenberg's feast?"

"Without any impropriety whatever, Sir Chamberlain. What the Prince
chiefly needs is sleep and my medicine. When he has swallowed even a few
spoonfuls he will feel much soothed and relieved."

The two gentlemen left the castle together, and Dietrich remained alone
with the Prince. He had first hastened with the long prescription to the
Electoral apothecary, and ordered that it should be left as soon as
prepared in the antechamber of the Prince's rooms. Then he had fetched a
pitcher of milk from his own chamber, and, kindling a fire in the Prince's
sleeping apartment, warmed the milk. Now he approached with the steaming
draught the couch of the Prince, who lay sighing and moaning, with closed
eyes and tightly compressed lips, paying no heed to Dietrich's entreaties.
Finally, after a long pause, he opened his eyes and fixed them with a
vacant expression upon the weeping and trembling old man.

"Dietrich, I believe I am dying," he gasped. "But do not tell anybody. No
one must know what I suffer, else _he_, too, would come to me, and I wish
to see his hated face no more."

"Most gracious Prince, I beseech you, drink. Here is milk!"

"Give it to me, give it to me, Dietrich! Perhaps there is yet hope."

He emptied the cup, and again sank back. Dietrich knelt by his couch and
murmured prayers, imploring God to be with the Electoral Prince and to
save him from death. Hour after hour sped away. Evening drew near, the
shades of night closed in, and still all was quiet and noiseless within
the castle precincts. Count Schwarzenberg's feast proceeded undisturbed.
It was truly a feast of enchantment, and even the Electress was carried
away by it. Twice had she dispatched footmen to inquire after her son's
health, and each time old Dietrich had sent word that the Prince had
fallen into a sweet sleep, and that the doctor's medicine seemed to agree
with him wonderfully well. Of this medicine Dietrich threw aside a
spoonful every fifteen minutes, and instead of it gave the Prince his own
prescription--warm milk. But still there was no alleviation of his
sufferings, and even the violent vomiting,