He bowed once more, nodding and bestowing kind greetings upon those on both sides, then entered the palace, followed by his page in black velvet suit. Who is that page? Nobody observes him, nobody has looked at him. Who troubles himself about the servant when he looks at the master?--who asks why the page's face is so pale, why his glance so feverish and restless? Very few know the court painter Gabriel Nietzel, and those who do know him will surely never imagine that it is he who to-day acts as page to the Electoral Prince Frederick William. He mingles with the host of gold-bedizened servants and lackeys in the entrance hall, and follows them into the banqueting hall. The doors of the house are closed; for the gaping crowd without the festival is ended, for the high-born guests within it is but just begun. The two wings of the doors leading into the banqueting hall are thrown open by the halberdiers, the musicians in the gilded balcony to the rear blow a loud, dashing flourish, and the Elector enters the hall, followed by the Electress, who leans upon the arm of Count Schwarzenberg. On both sides of the hall stand the lords and ladies of the nobility, who bow down to the ground, nothing being visible but the bowed necks of men, the courtesying forms of women--all is reverence, solemnity, and silence. In the middle of the long table, just before that immense, solid mirror of Venetian crystal, are the places of the Electoral pair, as may be seen by those throne-like armchairs, on whose tall, straight backs is carved a golden crown--as may be seen by the glittering gold plate of both covers. How gorgeously is the long table laid, nothing to be seen but gold and silver plate! In the center is a huge piece of chased silver, representing Cupids and genii, who in golden shells, cornucopias, and vases offer the rarest fruits, the most delicious confections! Before each lady's plate, in wondrously cut goblets, is a magnificent bouquet of flowers; before each gentleman's, a silver bowl. A gold-bedizened lackey is behind each chair; two stand behind the chairs of each of their Electoral Highnesses. "Why stands that page behind the Electoral Prince's chair?" asks the Stadtholder, loud enough to be heard by the Prince, who is near him. Frederick William breaks off in the midst of his conversation with the young Count John Adolphus, and turns smilingly to the Stadtholder.