stood with the two Princesses in the deep recess of the great window, when
his wife and son entered; he greeted them both with a short nod of the
head, and, casting a dark, unfriendly glance at Baron von Leuchtmar, who
was reverentially approaching him, gave his arm to his wife, and led her
to the two upper places at the oblong table.

"It seems our son can not dispense with his tutor," said he, in a low,
peevish tone of voice to the Electress. "He brings his tutor to dine with
us, as if it were a matter of course."

"I beg your pardon, George," whispered the Electress. "I invited the
baron, whom I found in our son's room. Do me the favor to receive him
affably. He has bestowed much labor and love upon our son, and has ever
been a faithful servant to us."

"To you, perhaps, but not to me," muttered the Elector, while he allowed
himself to sink down in his great, round easychair, thereby giving the
signal for dinner to commence.

The hours of dinner were usually those in which George William was
accustomed to dismiss all the cares and anxieties of government, and to
give himself up with cheerful countenance to harmless conversation with
his wife and daughters.

At times he even loved to carry on a lively chat with those court
officials who were present, at the table, or to amuse himself with hearing
their recital of the events of the day or the gossip of the town. But
to-day the Elector remained gloomy and taciturn. He left it to his wife to
lead the conversation, and get from the Electoral Prince accounts of her
dear relations at the Dutch court. The Prince answered all her questions,