Mystified, the Prince and his men peer wonderingly across the enchanted mere. And as they look there glides across their vision a number of snow-white swans, swimming in stately procession toward the further shore. In advance of the rest moves one, which bears upon its head, so delicately poised on the slender sinuous neck, a golden crown. Upon the agonised Prince and his astounded retinue, watching in silence this strange portent, the curtain swiftly falls. * * * * * One sees next an apartment in the royal palace, where festivities are in progress, to celebrate the coming nuptials of the Prince with the heiress of a neighbouring realm. To the gay music of a festal march, the royal guests are marshalled to their appointed places by a master of ceremonies; there are stately greetings, and a formal interchange of courtesies. The Prince enters presently, accompanied by the Queen-mother, whom he escorts to the seat of honour. His betrothed has then to be greeted and similarly handed to her place. These ceremonies the Prince duly observes, but with a formality of manner which indicates that his attention is perfunctory. He seems moody and abstracted, and when presently he seats himself beside the Queen-mother, the dances which begin fail to arouse in him more than a listless interest. The first of these dances--a valse performed by eight couples--is scarcely ended when there is a stir at one of the entrances to the hall. From the press of courtiers the master of ceremonies emerges, ushering forward a tall man of sinister aspect, richly but strangely attired, who leads by the hand a fair lady. The Prince rises to welcome the strangers. Courtesies having been exchanged, the Prince raises his eyes--and finds himself looking into the face of the Swan-maiden to whom he lost his heart so lately. He cannot restrain a movement of surprise--the sudden embodiment of his very thoughts seems beyond credence. But the recognition, as he perceives, is mutual; the fair stranger, as she suffers her forbidding escort to draw her aside, displays not less agitation than he. Deep in perplexity the Prince resumes his seat. The master of ceremonies signs for the festivities to proceed, but neither a dashing czardas, nor the brilliant mazurka which follows, can distract the Prince from the anxious meditation into which he is plunged. Only when the beautiful stranger is again led forward does he shake off his abstraction. Eagerly he offers attendance upon her while she performs a _pas seul_ before the court.