our sunny Italian home here in
this dirty northern Mark! We two must console one another, and try to
forget that we do not live in your own fair Italy, but here, here, where
there is more rain than sunshine, and where in place of music we often
hear nothing but the grunting of swine and the bleating of sheep!"

And, as if in confirmation of his words, just then was heard from the
street a loud tumult, a confused discord of grunts and squeals. The count
turned from the Italian beauty, and looked out into the street, or,
rather, the great square fronting his palace.[8] The rain, which had
streamed down incessantly for a few days past, had drenched the unpaved
ground, and here and there, where the soil was impermeable to moisture,
had formed puddles and pools. These, the sheep and hogs, which were
ensconced in stalls before the houses, had chosen for their pleasure
ground, and whole herds of them had come to bathe in these puddles before
Count Schwarzenberg's palace and in the neighborhood of the cathedral. A
few merry, naughty boys, attracted by their squealing and bleating,
likewise ventured into the black sea of the cathedral square, but, finding
that they forthwith sank in the same, they had called for help, shouting,
screaming, and laughing, thereby attracting still other boys and idlers,
who now with prudent caution stood on certain less saturated spots, and
with shrieks of mockery and laughter watched the vain efforts of the
sunken boys, who were striving to work themselves out of the morass. Such
was the melancholy picture that presented itself to Count Adam von
Schwarzenberg, and he gazed upon it with sad and gloomy looks.

"And this is the residence of the Stadtholder in the Mark!" he sighed--"the
outlook of von Schwarzenberg, count of the empire! Oh! it shall be
otherwise! Out of this pigstye Berlin, I will construct a neat and
handsome residence for myself, from this miserable house a splendid palace
shall spring forth, and all the arts and sciences shall find their patron
in the lord commanding in the Mark, when he is no longer merely called
Stadtholder, but--"

He looked anxiously behind him, as if he dreaded being overheard by some
one. "Hush!" he murmured then, "be still! There are thoughts and plans
which may never find expression in words, but, like Minerva from the brain
of Jupiter, must come forth ready for action, spear in hand. Creep back
into my heart, and never let it be perceived that you are ther