are perfectly comprehensible. When the malicious wretch let the boy go, he darted out of the room and ran down the whole corridor, screaming out that he would tell his mamma about Sidonia; but Zitsewitz met him, and having heard the story, the amorous old fool took him up in his arms, and promised him heaps of beautiful things if he would hold his tongue and not say a word more to any one, and that he would give Sidonia a good whipping himself, in return for what she had done to him. So, in short, her Grace never heard of the insult until after Sidonia's departure from

Had her Highness been in her apartment, she must have heard the child scream; but it so happened that just then she was walking up and down the ducal gardens, whither she had gone to cool her anger.

Soon after a stately ship was seen sailing down the river from Penemunde, † which attracted all eyes in the castle, for on the deck stood a noble youth, with a heron's plume waving from his cap, and he held a tame sea-gull upon his hand, which from time to time flew off and dived into the water, bringing up all sorts of fish, great and small, in its beak, with which it immediately flew back to the handsome youth.

"Ah!" exclaimed Clara, "there must be the sons of our gracious Princess! for to-morrow is her birthday, and here comes the noble bishop, Johann Frederick of Camyn, and his brother, Duke Bogislaff XIII., to pay their respects to their gracious mother."

* Note by Duke Bogislaff XIV.—This is true, and therefore I consent to let it remain; and I remember that Prince Casimir told me long afterwards that the scene remained indelibly impressed on his memory. "For," he said, "the wild eyes and the terrible voice of the witch frightened me more even than her cruel hand; as if even there I detected the devil in her, though I was but a little boy at the time."

+ A town in Pomerania.

Her Grace, however, would scarcely credit that the handsome youth who was fishing after so elegant a manner was indeed her own beloved son; but Clara clapped her hands now, crying, "Look! your Grace-look! there is the flag hoisted!" And indeed there fluttered from the mast now the bishop's own arms. So the warder blew his horn, which was answered by the warder of St. Peter's in the town, and the bells in all the towers rang out, and the castellan ordered the cannon in the courtyard to be fired off.

Her Grace was now thoroughly convinced, and weeping for joy, ran down to the little water-gate, where old Ulrich already stood waiting to receive the princes. As the vessel approached, however, they discovered that the handsome. youth was not the bishop, but Duke Bogislaff, who had been staying on a visit at his brother's court at Camyn, along with several high prelates. The bishop, Johann Frederick, did not accompany him, for he was obliged to remain at home, in order to receive a visit from the Prince of Brandenburg.

When the Duke stepped on shore he embraced his weeping mother joyfully, and said he came to offer her his congratulations on her birthday, and that she must not weep but laugh, for there should be a dance in honour of it, and a right merry feast at the castle on the morrow.

Then he tumbled out on the bridge all the fish which the bird had caught; and her Grace wondered greatly, and stroked it as it sat upon the shoulder of the Prince. So he asked if the bird pleased her Grace, and when she answered "Yes," he said, "Then, dearest mother, let it be my birthday gift to you. I have trained it myself, and tried it here, as you see, upon the river. So any afternoon that you and your ladies choose to amuse yourselves with a sail, this bird will fish for you as long as you please, while you row down the river.'

Ah, what a good son was this handsome young Duke !— and when I think that Sidonia murdered them all-all-even

this noble Prince, my heart seems to break, and the

from my fingers.*

But to continue. The Duchess embraced the fine young Prince, who still continued talking of the dance they must have next day. It was time now for his gracious mother to give up mourning for her deceased lord, he said.

But her Grace would not hear of a dance; and replied that she would continue to mourn for her dear lord all the rest of her life, to whom she had been wedded by Doctor Martinus. However, the Duke repeated his entreaties, and all the young nobles added theirs, and finally Prince Ernest besought her Grace not to deny them permission to have a festival on the morrow, as it was to honour her birthday. So she at last consented; but old Ulrich shook his head, and took her Grace aside to warn her of the scandal which would assuredly arise when the young nobles had drunk and grew excited by Sidonia. Hereupon her Grace made answer that she would take care Sidonia should cause no scandal"As she has refused to learn her catechism, she must not appear at the feast. It will be It will be a fitting punishment to keep her a prisoner for the whole day, and therefore I shall lock her up myself in her own room, and put the key in my pocket."

So Ulrich was well pleased, and all separated for the night with much contentment and hopes of enjoyment on the

morrow.

* Note by Duke Bogislaff XIV.—Et quid mihi, misero filio? Domine in manus tuas commendo spiritum meum, quia tu me redemisti fide Deus! (And what remains to me, wretched son? Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit, for Thou hast redeemed me, Thou God of truth.)-When one thinks that it was the general belief in that age that the whole ducal race had been destroyed and blasted by Sidonia's sorceries, it is impossible not to be affected by these melancholy yet resigned and Christian words of the last orphaned and childless representative of the ancient and illustrious house of Wolgast,

CHAPTER XII.

Of Appelmann's knavery-Item, how the birthday of her Highness was celebrated, and Sidonia managed to get to the dance, with the uproar caused thereby.

BEFORE I proceed further, it will be necessary to state what happened a few days before concerning Prince Ernest's chief equerry, Johann Appelmann, otherwise many might doubt the facts I shall have to relate, though God knows I speak the pure truth.

One came to his lordship the Grand Chamberlain-he was a shoemaker of the town-and complained to him of Appelmann, who had been courting his daughter for a long while, and running after her until finally he had disgraced her in the eyes of the whole town, and brought shame and scandal into his house. So he prayed Lord Ulrich to make the shameless profligate take his daughter to wife, as he had fairly promised her marriage long ago.

Now Ulrich had long suspected the knave of bad doings, for many pearls and jewels had lately been missing from her Grace's shabrack and horse-trappings, and the groom, who always laid them on her Grace's white palfrey, knew nothing about them, though he was even put to the torture; but as Appelmann had all these things in his sole keeping, it was natural to think that he was not quite innocent. Besides, three hundred sacks of oats were missing on the new year, and no one knew what had become of them.

Therefore Ulrich sent for the cheating rogue, and upbraided him with his profligate courses, also telling him that he must wed the shoemaker's daughter immediately. But the cunning knave knew better, and swore by all the saints that he was innocent, and finally prevailed upon Prince Ernest to intercede for him, so that Ulrich promised

to give him a little longer grace, but then assuredly he would bring him to a strict account.

And Appelmann drove the Prince that same day to Grypswald, to find out more musicians for the castle band, as the march of Duke Bogislaff the Great was to be played by eighty drums and forty trumpets in the grand ducal hall, to honour the birthday of her Highness.

One can imagine what Sidonia felt when the Duchess announced that as she had refused to learn the catechism, and was neither obedient to God nor her Grace, she should remain a strict prisoner in her own room during the festival, as a signal punishment for her ungodly behaviour. But her maid might bring her food of all that she chose from the feast.

Sidonia first prayed her Grace to forgive her for the love of God, and she would learn the whole catechism by heart. But as this had no effect, then she wept and lamented loudly, and at length fell down upon her knees before her Grace, who would, however, be neither moved nor persuaded; and when Sidonia threatened at last to leave her room, the Duchess went out, locked the door, and put the key in her pocket. The prisoner howled enough then, I warrant.

But what did she do now, the cunning minx? She gave her maid a piece of gold, and told her to go up and down the corridor, crying and wringing her hands, and when any one asked what was the matter, to say, "That her beautiful young lady was dying of grief, because the Duchess had locked her up, like a little school-girl, in her own room, and all for not knowing the catechism of Dr. Gerschovius, which indeed was not taught in her part of the country, but another, which she had learned quite well in her childhood. And so for this, her poor young lady was not to be allowed to dance at the festival." The maid was to say all this in particular to Prince Ernest; or if he did not pass through the corridor, she was to stop weeping and groaning at his chamber-door, until he came out to ask what was the matter.