nly grew dumb and looked at the lackey with a still more clouded brow.

"Fellow," he said angrily, "how dare you appear in this presence with such
a dress? With your short bearskin jacket and patched hose, you present
such a pitiably mean appearance that I am actually ashamed to behold you."

"Pardon, your Electoral Grace," stammered the servant with downcast air,
"I can not help it, and I am woefully ashamed myself that I must dare to
come thus before my most gracious lord the Elector. A heavy misfortune has
happened to my livery coat. I left it hanging on a nail, and tore a
fearfully large three-cornered rent in it, on which the court tailor says
he will have to stitch a whole day, and even then it may not be
presentable after all. The livery coat, therefore, is at the tailor's,
which is the reason why I must appear in my jacket."

"You should have put on another coat," cried the Elector, impatiently,
"for it is contrary to respect that you should enter in such shabby style."

"Another coat?" asked the lackey, with an expression of the highest
astonishment. "Pardon, your Electoral Highness, I have only that one coat!"

"What!" exclaimed the Elector. "Only _one_ coat! Did I not order that new
livery coats should be made for you lackeys before our removal from
Koenigsberg?"

"It was done, your Electoral Grace, we received our new livery coats
before we left Koenigsberg."

"Well, then, where are the old ones?"

"Your Electoral Grace, the master of the wardrobe sold the old ones to the
Jews at Koenigsberg, who paid him a good sum of money for them, for the old
livery coats were trimmed with genuine gold lace, but the new ones are
cheaper, for it is only gilt or--"

"Hold your tongue and begone!" cried the Elector. "If you have no coat,
then from to-day I dispense with your services, and Jocelyn shall take
your place."

"Forgive me, your Electoral Highness, but Jocelyn is in confinement. The
master of the wardrobe had him put in the guardhouse three days ago."

"Wherefore then--what has Jocelyn done that the master of the wardrobe
should have him put into prison?"

"He was obstinate, your highness. The paymaster has not distributed to us
our wages for two months, so that none of us has a groschen in his pocket.
When we reached Berlin, three days ago, Jocelyn found his old mother
miserably sick and well-nigh starved, for the Imperialists have thoroughly
pillaged Berlin, and robbed the old woman of her last posse