n the storms of political passion. With threatening aspect and flashing
eyes stood the Electoralists and Imperialists opposite each other, and,
while the former lifted up their glasses, to touch them in honor of their
Sovereign and Elector, the latter knocked their glasses tumultuously on
the table, and broke out into loud laughter and deafening imprecations. No
one any longer paid honor to the master of the house--no one thought of
him, in fact. He had risen from his seat with the intention of going to
the other end of the table, where now a furious duel of words was
progressing between his chamberlain and Herr von Lastrow. He desired to
pacify them, to smooth over the contention; but it was already too late,
for ere he had reached the middle of the hall, a catastrophe had occurred
between the contending parties. Counselor von Lastrow raised his arm, and
administered to Chamberlain Lehndorf a sounding box upon the cheek.

One unanimous shriek of rage from the Imperialists, and they rushed toward
Lehndorf and drew their swords. Behind Lastrow the Electoralists ranged
themselves, and they, too, laid bare their weapons.

Count Schwarzenberg tottered back. He perceived that it was too late to
pacify now, that all temporizing had become impossible. He had a feeling
that he must flee away, that it did not comport with his dignity to stand
there powerless and inactive between two factions. In this moment of
weakness and indecision his confidential valet approached him.

"Most gracious sir," he whispered, "a courier from Regensburg, from Count
John Adolphus, has just arrived. I have already laid the letter upon your
excellency's writing table. It is marked 'urgent.'"

Count Schwarzenberg turned to hurry from the hall, to escape the wild
tumult, to take refuge in his cabinet, and, above all things, to read the
long-expected letter from his son.

The uproar in the hall waxed ever fiercer, weapons clashed and wild battle
cries resounded. He quickened his pace, and opened the door of the hall.
Behind him rang out a piercing shriek, a death cry! Quivering in every
fiber of his being the count turned round to--Once more that piercing
shriek was heard, and Herr von Lastrow, with Lehndorf's dagger in his
breast, fell backward into the arms of his friends with the death rattle
in his throat.[46]

Count Schwarzenberg, seized with horror, rushed on through the deserted,
brilliantly lighted apartments--on, ever on. But that fearful sh