Louder resound the peals of music, and all the gods sing and laugh and jest and shout. And the Bacchantes swing to and fro their ivy-wreathed staves, and their mouths with ecstasy pour forth their stammering songs of mirth! Venus has soared away! But no one observes it. Each is his own deity, here in the Media Nocte. Oh, blessed night of the gods! Forget that the wretched day of man will return in the morning! Louder resound the strains of music, and all is bustle, stir, and song there in Olympus! From the cavern on the right steps forth the Princess Ludovicka in white satin robe, a myrtle wreath twined in her hair, and behind her sweeps her veil like a silver cloud. Venus! Venus ever! full of sweet enchantment! She goes to the cavern on the left, and gently knocks. The door springs open, and she enters. It is bright within, and the Electoral Prince, in gold-embroidered suit, comes to meet her with beaming eyes, looks upon her radiant with happiness, and sinks down at her feet. Endymion! Endymion ever! Enchained by sweet magic! A door flies open; nobody has opened it, but there it is. The Electoral Prince jumps up and offers the Princess his hand. Neither of the two speaks, for their hearts are beating overloud. The merry music and uproarious shouts of the gods on Olympus penetrate to them even in the stillness of the cave, but through the open door other sounds steal near. Solemn, long-drawn organ peals are heard, uniting in the melody of a pious choral. How strangely blended within that narrow space those exultant songs and those organ tones! The young lovers hear only the notes of the organ, and hand in hand move toward the sound. A small pleasure boat receives them, flowers and myrtle trees line the banks, and inviting and alluring the organ calls them. Light glimmers at the end of the passage, and the lovers go toward it. They enter a large wide room! Solemn silence reigns here. At the farther end is a small altar. On it burn tall wax tapers, and before it, in full canonicals, stands the priest, prayer book in hand. At his sides are two gentlemen in simple, somber dress. Farther forward, nearer the center of the hall, is a table hung with green, on which lie several papers and implements of writing, and near it is a notary in his official garb, again attended by several men. To all this Prince Frederick William gives but one brief glance, then turns his eyes once more upon his beloved, standing at his side, radiant in beauty and enticingly sweet. The jubilant songs of Olympus yet ring in their ears, the images of the gods yet flame and flaunt before their eyes. "How beautiful you are, beloved Ludovicka! My Electoral Princess! come, let us go to the altar! Oh, your good, kind friends! How I thank them! How well they have arranged everything! Come! You see, the priest is waiting!"