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FOR SCEPTRE AND CROWN.

CHAPTER I.

BISMARCK AND MANTEUFFEL.

About nine o'clock on a dark April evening in the year 1866, a Berlin cab drove up the Wilhelmsstrasse with the trot peculiar to those vehicles, and stopped between the two lamps illuminating the door of No. 76, the house of the Minister for Foreign Affairs. The ground floor of this long two-storeyed house was well lighted up, and any one who peeped through the green blinds could see into many office-like rooms, well-filled with industrious writers, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. The windows of the upper storey were only faintly lighted here and there.

From the cab which drew up before this house stepped a middle-sized man, dressed in a dark paletot and black hat; he came close to the gas-lamp to look in his purse for the right coins with which to pay the fare, and as soon as he had settled with the numbered Automedon he rang loudly at the door-bell.

The door opened almost immediately, and the person demanding admittance entered a spacious porte-cochère, at the end of which, between two large sleeping stone lions, ascended the flight of steps leading to the interior of the house. On one side of the doorway a window opened into the porter's lodge, and at the window appeared the porter's face, wearing that peculiarly stolid expression common to the door-keepers of all great houses.

The porter looked at the new-comer inquisitively through the half-open window, but he only gave him a hasty glance as he walked on with quiet, measured tread to the flight of steps.

As he moved forwards, the light fell brightly on his face, and showed the features of a man of about sixty years of age, of a rather dark and healthy complexion. The quick, animated dark eyes looked piercing and bright, even through gold-rimmed spectacles, though they also expressed calmness and benevolence. His well-chiselled, regular nose was slightly bowed over the small, firm, beardless mouth, and an energetic up-turned chin completed a countenance so characteristic, that when once beheld it was seldom forgotten.

No sooner did the look darted through these gold spectacles reach the window of the porter's lodge, than the porter's face changed as if by magic.

The expression of indifference and easy condescension vanished instantly, the countenance assumed the look befitting a zealous servant, and its possessor hastened from the door of his lodge leading to the steps, and at last stood in a precise attitude, proving him to be an old soldier, before the visitor, who in the meantime had gained the entrance hall on the ground floor, to which the large stone steps led.

"Is the minister at home?" he inquired, with simple politeness, which, equally unlike the over-strained courtesy of the petitioner and the haughty nonchalance of the parvenu, proved him to be a man accustomed to move with ease in the highest society.

"At your command, your Excellency," replied the porter in his official manner. "The French Ambassador has just gone, and no one is here. The minister is now alone."

"And how do you get on? still sound and fit for service?" asked the visitor, kindly.

"Most humble thanks for your Excellency's gracious inquiries. I still get about, although somewhat weaker. Everyone does not wear so well as your Excellency."

"Well, well, we all get older, and draw nearer to the end. Keep a brave heart, and God be with you!" With these kind words, heartily spoken, the grave-looking man walked up the broad staircase towards the first storey, while the old door-keeper watched him with respectful pleasure, and then returned to his lodge.

In the ante-room on the upper floor "his Excellency" found Herr von Bismarck's valet-de-chambre, Schönhausen, and was at once conducted through a large, dimly-lighted apartment to the cabinet of the minister. The door was thrown open by the servant, who announced for his master's benefit, "His Excellency von Manteuffel!"

Herr von Bismarck sat at a large writing-table, piled with acts and papers. It was placed in the middle of the room, and lighted by a tall lamp with a dark shade. An arm-chair stood on the other side of the table, in which the minister usually seated his visitors. Herr von Bismarck rose at his servant's announcement and walked towards his visitor, whilst Manteuffel took in the whole room with one glance from his quick eyes; then, with a slight half-melancholy smile, he seized the president-minister's outstretched hand.

It was a picture of the deepest interest. In the half-second during which these two men stood opposite each other, the present touched the past and the future--the old, the new Prussia.

Both the men were sensible of this impression. They stood opposite one another for a moment in silence.

Herr von Manteuffel we have already described whilst he was entering the Foreign Office. It is only needful to add that the removal of his hat showed hair which was grey and thin, and cut very short. He stood quite still, his right hand clasped in Bismarck's, whilst the slender white fingers of his left held his hat. His features maintained perfect calmness; his mouth was firmly closed, and a guarded reserve appeared to stamp its seal upon the whole being of the man.

Herr von Bismarck, almost a head taller, stood towering above him. The bearing of his powerful form showed he was accustomed to wear uniform; his massive, strongly-marked countenance spoke in its decided features of a vehement, passionate soul; the clear, penetrating grey eyes turned boldly, with a cold gaze, upon the object they wished to watch; and the broad, high brow, which from being somewhat bald appeared even higher than it was, showed immense power of forcing, by an iron will, thoughts and ideas to logical arrangement.

"I thank you for your kind visit," said Bismarck, after a few moments.

"You preferred coming to me here, instead of receiving me as I requested."

"It is better so," replied Manteuffel. "Your visit to me would have excited curiosity. Here, too, we are safe from eavesdroppers; and, I suppose, an important subject is to be discussed."

"Yes, unhappily, only a grave and extraordinary occasion can procure me the happiness of hearing the experienced counsels of my old chief. You know how often I long for your advice, and yet you always avoid every expression of opinion," said Herr von Bismarck, with a slight accent of reproach.

"What good would it do?" returned Herr von Manteuffel, politely but coldly. "To act for myself, to answer for myself, was my rule when I occupied the position you now fill. If once a leading statesman begins to ask advice right and left, he loses the power of advancing resolutely on the path which his reason and his conscience point out to him as the right one."

"Now, truly, it is not my way to listen to every one, and no want of resolution prevents my choosing my own path," cried Bismarck, warmly; "and," he added, with a slight smile, "my friends the members of the Diet cast it daily in my teeth that I do not sufficiently heed their good advice; yet you will own that there are moments when the strongest brain may long