d you!

God be praised! The formula of the oath is ended. The Elector may rise
from his knees, and, as he does so, he says to himself: "Never again shall
this knee bend to man! Never again shall I endure what I have endured
to-day!"

But his countenance betrays nothing of the emotions of his soul, and with
a smile upon his lips he ascends the steps of the throne, and takes his
place upon a seat at the left hand of the King.

And again are heard the ringing of bells and nourishing of trumpets, as
they announce to the city of Warsaw, that the Elector Frederick William
has just sworn allegiance to the King of Poland. The solemnity is over,
and the King, the Elector, and the nobles of his realm, repair to the
palace to partake of a banquet which has been prepared there for them.

A sumptuous banquet! The tables glitter with gold and silver plate, around
which are ranged the nobles in their striking national costumes. The
Brandenburg officers are arrayed in gold-laced uniforms, and between them
sit the beautiful Polish ladies, richly adorned with flowers and sparkling
gems, themselves the fairest flowers and their eyes the most brilliant
gems. Between the King and Queen sits the young Elector, opposite him the
two Princesses.

Oh, King's daughter, shield your heart. He talks with you, indeed, and
smiles upon you, and sweet words flutter like butterflies across!
Butterflies take speedy flight, sweet words are scattered to the wind!
Nothing remains of them but a painful memory! If it should be so with you,
King's daughter!

The Elector is no longer the humble vassal with serious face and
melancholy mien; he is the young ruler, the hero of the future. His eyes
glisten, his lips smile, witticisms drop from his mouth, his countenance
beams with merriment and youthful joy. Not merely are the ladies delighted
with him, but the men also, and the royal pair are glad of heart, for well
pleased are they to present such a husband to their amiable daughter.

Not until late at night is the _fete_ concluded, and when the Elector goes
home to the Brandenburg Palace, all the nobility attend him with torches
in their hands--a long procession of five thousand torches! Like a golden
flood it streams through the streets of Warsaw, flashes in at all the
windows, and inscribes on every wall in shining characters, "The Elector
of Brandenburg, Duke of Prussia, has given the oath of vassalage to the
King of Poland!"

The _fete_ is over, but