.
In his anguish of heart he had wakened Baron Leuchtmar and the private
secretary Mueller, in order to impart to them the melancholy news. Both
gentlemen had immediately risen and dressed themselves, and softly
approached the door of the princely chamber. They, too, had heard the
restless steps, the loud groans and lamentations of the Prince, and his
grief had passed into their own hearts. As they looked at each other, each
observed tears in the eyes of the other, and with quivering lips both
whispered, "Poor young man! he must have some great grief! He suffers a
great deal!"

"You must go to him, Leuchtmar," whispered Mueller. "You must ask what ails
him, and try to comfort him."

The baron mournfully shook his head. "My dear Mueller," he said, "have you
ever been in love?"

"No, never!" replied Mueller, in astonishment. "Why do you ask such a
question?"

"Because you would then know, friend, that there is no consolation for
disappointment in love."

"You think, then, that the Prince is disappointed in love?"

"Certainly, I think so. What other grief can a young Prince of hardly
eighteen years have, especially when his heart is engrossed with a glowing
passion. The Prince was last night in the Media Nocte, and something
peculiar must have occurred there, for he came home unusually early, his
custom having been of late not to return home until daybreak, singing and
rejoicing."

"Only hear, Leuchtmar, how he sobs and groans! And now! Hush! what does he
say?"

Both gentlemen held their breath, and quite distinctly could be heard
within the wailing, tear-choked voice of the Prince:

"It is impossible--it is impossible. I can not. No, I can not. The
sacrifice is too heavy! My heart will break!"

"Hear him well," whispered Mueller, amid his tears; "he can not make the
sacrifice. He will die of grief. My God! go to him, baron. Tell him he
need not make the sacrifice. No one can require of him the impossible. Go
to him, man! Be humane. My God! only hear how he laments and groans!"

"I hear it, but I can not go in. I do not know his sorrow, and if the
Prince needs me he can call me."

"You are a savage," said Mueller desperately. "Well, if you will not
comfort him, then shall I go to him."

He stretched out his hand for the door knob, but Baron Leuchtmar held him
back, and led the good private secretary back to his own room.

"Let us go to bed, friend," he said; "even if we can not sleep, as is
probable, yet