denly the rooms began to fill; everywhere gold-embroidered uniforms,
orders, stars, and flashing gems were to be seen; a promiscuous and
strange crowd was moving through these lofty saloons, illuminated by
thousands of lights and odorous with the fragrance of flowers.

Side by side with the rich, fantastic uniform of the Russian, was seen
the light and active French chasseur; here was to be seen the Hungarian
hussar, whose variegated and tasteful costume contrasted curiously with
the dark and simple uniform of the Spaniard, who stood near him, both
conversing gayly with an Italian, dressed in the white coat of an
Austrian officer.

It seemed as if every nation in Europe had arranged a rendezvous for
this day in the royal palace at Berlin, or as it the great Frederick had
sent specimens to his people of all the various nations against whom he
had undertaken this gigantic war.

There were not only Germans from all the provinces, but Italians,
Spaniards, Russians, Swedes, Hungarians, Netherlanders, and Frenchmen.
All these were prisoners of war--their swords had been stained with the
blood of Prussians; the fate of war now confined them to the scabbard,
and changed the enemies of the king into guests at his court.

Hundreds of captive officers were now waiting in the saloon for the
appearance of the queen, but the Prussian army was scarcely represented.
All who were fit for service were in the field, only the invalids
and the old warriors, too infirm for active duty had remained at the
capital; even the youths who had not attained the legal age for military
duty, had hastened to the army, full of courage and enthusiasm, inspired
by the example of their fathers and brothers.

The dazzling appearance of these royal saloons was therefore mostly
owing to the flashing uniforms of the prisoners of war. Only a few old
Prussian generals, and the courtiers, whose duties prevented them from
being heroes, were added to the number.

Herr von Giurgenow, and his friend Captain Belleville, were invited to
the ball, and were well pleased to offer their homage to the majesty
of Prussia. Count Ranuzi, who, reserved and silent as usual, had
been wandering through the saloons, now joined them, and they had all
withdrawn to a window, in order to observe quietly and undisturbed the
gay crowd passing before them.

"Look you," said Ranuzi, laughing, "this reminds me of the frantic
confusion in the anterooms of hell, which Dante has describ