"It would be the easiest way, indeed," replied the lackey; "only it is not quite consistent with respect. But the great coach can not go." "Then let them take my light hunting chaise, and attach four of my best coursers. In ten minutes I must be in the carriage." V.--THE ELECTOR AND HIS FAVORITE. In exactly ten minutes the hunting chaise stood in the inner court of the count's palace, and, as this was paved with huge granite flagstones, the count succeeded in reaching his carriage without spattering his white silk stockings, extending as far as the knee, or soiling his delicate velvet slippers, with their brilliant buckles and high red heels. Then the lackeys opened the great trellised gate of gilded iron, and with loud thundering the carriage rolled from the court out into the street. The coachman lashed the air with his whip, and the four coursers flew, hardly touching the ground with their pretty feet. The mud, to be true, splashed in mighty waves from the wheels and hoofs, giving the benefit of its floods to many an honest burger's wife who could not on her stilts immediately escape; often, indeed, was heard the anguished squeak or piteous howl of some sucking pig or dog over which the hunting equipage had rolled; but it paused not for these, and in a few moments halted in safety before the mean little portal of that small, dark mansion, honored with the title of the Elector's residential palace, which was situated on the other side of the cathedral square, near the Spree and the pleasure garden. Before the portal stood a wretched carriage, covered with mud and drawn by four raw-boned horses, whose trappings and harness were wholly wanting in polish and neatness. "The Elector means to ride out, it seems," said the count to himself, with a contemptuous glance at the poor electoral equipage. "Drive a little aside!" screamed the count's well-dressed coachman from his box. "Let his excellency the Stadtholder drive up to the door, for it is just impossible for the count to alight here in this mud." But the coachman only shook his head proudly, in token of refusal, and darted a look full of inexpressible contempt upon the Stadtholder's presumptuous driver. "Drive out of the way!" shouted the count's coachman. "Here I stand, and here I mean to stay until the Elector comes!" "Let him remain, William, and speak not another word," commanded Count Schwarzenberg. "Drive my carriage up so close to the electoral carriage that I can conveniently step in."