CHAPTER XI
One day towards evening both the great ministers were sitting in Sulkowski's house: they were silent and seemed to try to penetrate each other's thoughts. Through the open window came the joyful chirping of the birds and the rumbling of carriages.
The faces of the two rivals to a close observer bore a striking difference. One who looked at Brühl at a moment when he thought he was not observed, would have seen under that sweet smile a cold perversity, the depths of which were frightening. In his eyes could be seen the keenness and cunning of a society man who guesses and understands everything, who penetrates the springs of social movements and does not hesitate to take hold of them, if he can do so safely, and provided they can be turned to his own advantage.
Sulkowski was a proud petty noble, who having become a lord, thought that he was so sure of his high position, that he believed everything was subservient to him. He treated Brühl as malum necessarium and looked down upon him with that superiority, sure of itself, which shuts its eyes to peril. He was not lacking in ideas, but he was lazy and disliked every effort.
Looking on them it was easy to guess the result of so unequal a fight, for never did a beautiful face conceal more falsehood than that of Brühl, who, when he knew that he was watched, could assume an innocent, childlike expression.
Two men of such calibre, placed in opposition, could not help fighting, but they did not fight yet; on the contrary they seemed to be the best of friends. Some instinct made Sulkowski feel that Brühl was his antagonist, but he laughed at the idea. Brühl was perfectly aware that he would not be able to rule absolutely over the Prince, until he overthrew Sulkowski, who furnished arms against himself. Although he could dissimulate and wait, Sulkowski sometimes avowed to himself, that he disliked the omnipotence of the Jesuit at the court, and that the Princess's influence also stood in his way.
He did not make Brühl his confidant, but he did not exercise sufficient caution and permitted him to guess. While Brühl and Guarini were the best of friends Sulkowski kept aloof from him. He was very respectful towards the Princess, but did not try to win her particular favour. Sometimes he would say something that would have passed muster under the rule of Augustus, but was unadvisable with so severe a Princess.
Father Guarini, knowing that the Prince was fond of him, bowed to him but kept his distance.
He very seldom met Brühl alone, as one of them was obliged to be always with the Prince, to keep him amused.
Evidently they had said all they had to say to each other, for Sulkowski was silent, and Brühl did not interrupt him, but he did not leave him, plainly wishing to say something further before he left.
After a long silence, the Count said:
'All that must remain entre nous. The house of Hapsburg is near an end, the glory of the Saxon family should begin. I know well, that we gave up all right of inheritance, that we accepted the Pragmatic Sanction, but with the death of the Emperor, things must take another turn for us. We should, at least, take Bohemia, even Silesia, recompensing Prussia elsewhere. I told you that I made a plan. I told Ludovici to make a copy of it.'
'I should like to have it and to think it over,' said Brühl. 'The plan is good and worthy of you and most important for the future of Saxony. I need hardly say that it will give me great pleasure to assist in its realisation. You have in me the most zealous helper and servant. Tell Ludovici to make a copy for me.'
'I do not wish,' said Sulkowski flattered by his approval, 'that this plan for the division of Austria be seen twice by Ludovici. I shall make a copy of it myself.'
Brühl smiled very sweetly.
'It would be a great favour,' he said, 'the means of realising such a wonderful project must be thought over beforehand. One could find in Berlin--'
'Ah!' said Sulkowski smiling, 'there is no doubt that it will be well received there: I rest assured that Prussia is our best friend.'
'I agree with you,' said Brühl, 'the question is only that they might not wish too much.'
'But it's not yet time to treat about it.'
'But it is to prepare the way for the strategy we are going to use.'
After saying this, Brühl rose and observed carelessly:
'I am almost certain that that medal was stamped by someone from Dresden, and I have my suspicions as to who did it.'
Sulkowski turned to him.
'Who could be that daring man?'
'Who could be, if not a courtier, who is confident that his position will protect him? A man of small importance would not dare, for he would know that it would bring him in contact with the executioner and the pillory.'
'Yes, but as he attacked our august lord, he might meet with something worse, because we could not overlook that.'
'I think likewise!' said Brühl. 'They are already too daring and the good-heartedness of our Prince and your magnanimity give them still more courage. Have you noticed how daring Watzdorf junior is?'
Sulkowski looked at Brühl with pity.
'You don't like Watzdorf,' he said. 'He is a buffoon like his father, but not dangerous.'
'Excuse me,' said Brühl with animation. 'The one who trifles with everything, will not respect anything. He will harm me, and you, my dear Count, and at length, our gracious lord.'
'He would not dare.'
Then taking hold of Brühl's button, he said confidentially:
'Tell me frankly, why do you dislike him?'
'He annoys me,' said Brühl, 'by his jokes.'
'I think you imagine,' Sulkowski continued, 'that he is in love with Frances Kolowrath.'
'I should not mind that, because it would prove his good taste,' said Brühl apparently with indifference, although he was irritated.
'But he annoys the Countess Moszynski for whom I have the greatest regard.'
'Ah!' exclaimed Sulkowski laughing.
'The Countess could defend herself,' Brühl said.
'She could ask the Prince to punish the man, but the worst of it is that he slanders us all, without any exception.'
'What? Me also?' asked Sulkowski.
'I could prove it to you.'
'It would be too daring!' said Sulkowski. 'Take my word for it. I think that he ordered that medal to be struck--' said Brühl.
'It is only a suspicion, my dear Brühl.'
'Perhaps it is more than a suspicion,' said Brühl.
'I am certain that he personally gave away four such medals.'
'To whom?'
'To the people belonging to the court. Where does he get so many of them? And why such zeal in distributing a medal which I buy out and destroy?'
'But are you certain of it?'
'Henniche will furnish you with the names of the people.'
'That alters the question,' Sulkowski said. 'It is a fact, and although I explain it by his animosity towards you, it hurts me also.'
'To be quite certain,' Brühl remarked, 'I must tell you frankly, that I ordered secret search to be made in his rooms. A number of those medals were found, which left no doubt that he was the author of them and you must punish him for that. In your high position you might be indifferent,' Brühl continued with well-played animation, 'but for such a small man as I am--'
Sulkowski frowned.
'I never could suspect that Watzdorf would be capable of such villainy.'
'You shall have proofs of it, but, in that case, I shall not act without you; only I beg of you to punish him. To Königstein--'
Sulkowski became thoughtful.
'I would pity him,' he said, 'but if he is guilty--'
'I shall not ask the Prince to do that--you must act. I am your servant, your assistant. I am nobody, and I don't wish to be anybody by myself: my warmest wish is to remain Sulkowski's right hand.'
Sulkowski took his hand and said with his usual pride:
'I wish to have you for my friend, only my friend, my dear Brühl, and for my part, I shall serve you as a friend. I need you, and I can be useful to you.'
They shook hands; Brühl played admirably the part of being moved.
'Listen, Brühl, I speak as a friend; many people know that Watzdorf is in love with Frances; if you wish to get rid of him for that reason, believe me they will accuse you and not me.'
Brühl simulated surprise also admirably.
'My dear Count,' he said with animation, 'I am not jealous at all, but I can be for my lord's and your honour. To-day they attack us as well as the throne, to-morrow they will attack our gracious lord alone. We must prevent that.'
'You are right,' said Sulkowski coolly, 'but we must prove that he is guilty.'
'Naturally,' said Brühl, going towards the door.
'Au revoir!'
Yes, at the shooting,' said Brühl. 'The Prince, needs some distraction, and we must furnish it--He is passionately fond of shooting--It is such an innocent amusement.'
Brühl hastened, for it was time to go to the park where targets were placed, and the court was going there. They did not wish to shoot in the castle grounds in order to preserve the appearance of mourning.
In the park, situated near Dresden, the court often found enjoyment. Beautiful avenues of linden trees, enormous beech trees and oaks, a great number of statues, and a lake, made that spot one of the most charming round Dresden. It was situated only about half an hour from the capital. The park in which there was an amphitheatre was surrounded by a densely wooded forest. The scent of freshly opened buds and the quiet made the place charming.
The targets were placed in the amphitheatre. Father Guarini, not satisfied with the preparations made by the huntsmen, and knowing Frederick's character, wanted to prepare some surprise for him and was busy all the morning. Not far from the amphitheatre a shanty was erected, at which a guard was placed with orders not to allow anybody in, for it contained Father Guarini's secret. Three times the Jesuit came with some boxes, and every time he, and several men who helped him, remained there quite a long time. The Jesuit's face beamed with satisfaction when he came for the last time. Evidently he had got everything ready, for, when the rumbling of carriages were heard, the Jesuit putting his hands behind his back, walked quietly down the avenue leading to the amphitheatre. The royal carriages, preceded by the runners, with lackeys in front and rear, cavaliers on horseback, and beautiful ladies, arrived one after another. The Prince was accompanied by his consort who never would leave him, especially when there were ladies in the party. The Countess Kolowrath with her daughter, ladies-in-waiting, chamberlains, pages, followed the Prince. Sulkowski and Brühl in elegant hunting costumes walked beside him.
The rifles were ready, the huntsmen in charge and the pages were to hand them. As Frederick got ready to shoot, Father Guarini appeared in the right-hand alley. He pretended to be very much surprised to see the court: he approached the Prince humbly, and exclaimed:
'Ah! Your Highness, what do I see? Shooting at the target--what a splendid amusement!'
'Is it not?' said Frederick laughing, 'but you shoot only at souls.'
'And not very fortunately either--I miss very often,' rejoined the Jesuit sighing. 'Here the competition will be splendid. But where are the prizes.'
'What prizes?' the Prince asked, a little surprised.
'Your Highness must pardon me,' answered Guarini, 'but to put it plainly, those who prove the best marksmen ought to get some souvenir for their skill.'
'I had not thought of that,' the Prince replied, looking round as if searching for someone.
'If it is permitted me,' said Guarini bowing, 'I will offer five prizes. I cannot give much, for I am poor, but for the amusement of my beloved lord, I deposit my modest gift at his feet.'
The Prince's eyes brightened.
'What? What?' he asked.
'It is my secret!' said the Padre, 'I cannot disclose it until the right time.'
He pointed to the shanty.
'My prizes are there. There are five of them for the five best shots.'
It looked like some funny joke, for Father Guarini was always most anxious to amuse the Prince; very often his jokes were not very new or very elegant, but he always succeeded in making Frederick laugh.
'You make me anxious to see your prizes,' said Frederick.
'The only condition I would make, is that your Highness does not compete. There is no doubt that nobody here shoots better, but I have not prepared a prize worthy of your royal hand. Consequently--'
The eloquence in his eyes ended the sentence.
Frederick began to shoot first. Being used to a rifle since he was a mere boy, it was true that very few people could compete with him, and directly he took hold of a rifle he became so absorbed in the sport that he paid no attention to anything else.
The targets were so arranged that if the ball struck the centre, a white and green--Saxon colours--little flag sprang out: a yellow and black flag--colours of Dresden--marked the first circle beyond the centre; and a black flag marked the further circles.
When Frederick began to shoot and hit the centre with one ball after another, he was applauded by the whole court. After having shot a great many times, the others shot by turns: Sulkowski, Brühl, the envoys of foreign courts, the old General Bandissin, the Count Wackerbarth-Salmour, the Count Los, the Baron Shonberg, the Count Gersdorf and the rest. Every shot was marked. The Prince seemed to wait impatiently for the distribution of Father Guarini's prizes.
It happened that after counting all the marks, old Bandissin won the first prize. The Prince rose from his chair, gazing after Guarini, who told a lackey to bring out the first prize from the shanty.
Curiosity was at its height. The door opened, and two lackeys in court livery--yellow tail coats with blue facings--brought out a large basket covered with a white cloth.
'General,' Guarini said seriously, 'it is not my fault that you do not receive a prize more suitable to your age, but it so pleased the Fates, and nobody can avoid his destiny.'
They opened the basket and took from it an enormous goose, but not in its natural attire. A clever artist had made a very amusing thing of it. On its wings a silk dress, such as was then worn by fashionable ladies, had been put; on its feet there were slippers, while its head was ornamented with a wig and feathers.
The apparition of the frightened bird was received with a burst of laughter, as it began to scream and wanted to fly away; but its wings were entangled in the dress, its feet in the shoes; so it opened its beak as if crying for help and rolled among the spectators.
The Prince laughed till the tears came; all laughed, even the stern Princess.
'The second prize!' cried Frederick.
'Your Majesty,' said Guarini, 'The first prize is called Angelo o l'amorosal.'
'Who takes the second prize?' the Prince asked.
The second prize was won by Sulkowski, who was disgusted with Guarini's joke.
The second basket was brought out--and from it jumped a monkey dressed as a clown; the monkey was not less frightened than the goose, but notwithstanding the clothing, it began to run away and having reached the first tree climbed up it.
The Prince seized a rifle and fired: the monkey screaming, hanging bleeding on the branch, fell to the ground.
The third prize, destined for Brühl, was an enormous hare, dressed as Crispino. The Prince killed the hare also. He was much excited and happy; his hands trembled, his eyes shone, he laughed.
The fourth prize was a rabbit dressed as Scaramuzzia. It was also killed by the Prince.
The last prize was a very amusing one, and it was spared: it was an enormous turkey clad as Dottore, with a tail coat, wig, waistcoat and everything that belonged to its official costume. Its comical gravity saved its life.
They all laughed heartily.
The Prince thanked Guarini and made him a longer speech than usual. He assured the Jesuit that not only would he never forget that excellent farce, but that he should order it to be repeated.
They shot till dark: the evening was quiet and warm, the air sweetly scented and the landscape charming; nobody wished to return to town; the court dispersed, forming small groups.
It happened that the Chamberlain Watzdorf stood by the side of the beautiful Frances Kolowrath. Her mother noticed it and tried to separate them, but she did not succeed. Not wishing to draw more attention to them than was proper, she was obliged to leave them alone.
Watzdorf did not neglect to take advantage of his opportunity. Usually ironical, that evening he was sad and depressed. As there was nobody near them he could speak to the girl.
'I am grateful to fate,' said he, 'for the opportunity it gives me of seeing you to-day: and this happens very seldom. The opportunity is the more precious to me, as I see you for the last time.'
'What do you mean? Why for the last time?' asked the girl with uneasiness.
'I feel that over me hangs the vengeance of that minister-page. They dog my footsteps, they have bribed my servants, for many of my papers are missing. They must have taken them secretly, and if that is so, I am lost.'
'Run away!' cried the girl passionately. 'I beseech you by our love, run away. Nobody watches you just now, take the best horse, and in a couple of hours you will be in Bohemia.'
'Yes, and to-morrow the Austrians would catch me.'
'Then flee to Prussia, to Holland, to France,' said the girl wildly.
'I have no means,' answered Watzdorf, 'and what is worse the charm of life is lost to me. There is no happiness for me. Frances--do not forget me--and avenge me. You will become that man's wife, be his executioner--'
Watzdorf looked into her eyes; they shone with love.
'Should you not see me to-morrow at the court, it will mean that I am lost,' he continued. 'I have a presentiment of which I cannot get rid.'
'But what reasons have you to suspect this?'
'An hour ago I found everything upside down in my room; the lackey has disappeared. Farewell,' he said with a voice full of emotion. 'You will live, I shall die between four gloomy walls. Frances, I beseech you, drop a handkerchief for a souvenir. I shall carry it on my heart; looking at it my grief will be less painful.'
The girl dropped the handkerchief: Watzdorf stooped, picked it up, and hid it in his bosom.
'Thank you,' said he. 'One moment more, and I shall not see your eyes again. Farewell, Frances, addio, my sweetest!'
The girl's mother came up at that moment, and, taking advantage of the general confusion, she pulled her daughter away almost by force. Watzdorf withdrew. At a distance of a few steps from him, Sulkowski encountered Brühl, while Guarini entertained the Prince.
'One word--' said Brühl, 'my suppositions were right.'
'What suppositions?' the Count asked indifferently.
'I ordered Watzdorf's apartments to be searched and they found fifty copies of the medal and a letter from the manufacturer, who tried to justify himself because he could not execute a better facsimile of the drawing sent him. It is absolute proof that he is guilty.'
Sulkowski grew pale.
Brühl slipped a paper into his hand.
'Take this: I do not wish to do anything on my own responsibility; do what you please, but if you don't put Watzdorf in Königstein, who knows if one of us will not take his place there? Impudence can do much--Count, do what you please, but I wash my hands of it.--I would not condescend to a search to avenge myself--but the Prince is attacked--It's crimen læsae majestatis and for that death is the penalty.'
Having said this Brühl stepped aside quickly; his face assumed its usual sweet smile. He perceived the Countess Moszynski and he turned towards her, bowing in a most ceremonious and respectful way.
Frances Kolowrath followed her mother; she was silent and proud; she gazed several times after Watzdorf and paid not the slightest attention to what was going on around her.
While she was so deeply thoughtful Brühl came to her, bowed respectfully and smiled sweetly. The proud girl's eyes shone; she drew herself up and looked at the minister contemptuously.
'Don't you think,' Brühl said, 'that we succeeded in amusing the Prince?'
'Yes, and you proved a good marksman,' answered the girl. 'I don't doubt that you could shoot just as well at people--'
Brühl looked sharply at her.
'I am not very skilful,' he said coolly, 'but if I were obliged to defend His Majesty, I don't doubt I should shoot well. I noticed that you enjoyed your conversation with the Chamberlain Watzdorf.'
'Yes,' said the girl, 'Watzdorf is very witty, he shoots with words as you do with balls.'
'That is a very dangerous weapon. If one does not know how to handle it,' said Brühl, 'one might shoot oneself.'
The girl's mother interrupted this unpleasant conversation, Frances' look closed it. She wished to intercede with Brühl, but pride closed her mouth: besides she was not certain that Watzdorf did not exaggerate his peril.
The Princess had already left with her ladies in waiting, the Prince still remained. Sulkowski tried to come near him, and the Prince expressing his desire to walk some little distance, the favourite seized the opportunity and walked at his side. Brühl accompanied the Countess Kolowrath.
Sulkowski did not wish to postpone the affair, for he was afraid that Watzdorf might fly if it were delayed.
'It's a very unpleasant duty,' said Sulkowski, 'to be obliged to spoil your majesty's humour after such pleasant amusement.'
Having listened to this, Frederick became gloomy, and looked askance at his minister, who continued:
'The matter is pressing; Brühl and I and even your Majesty are exposed to the ridicule of the whole of Europe: I did not speak before, wishing to spare your Majesty's feelings.--In Holland an abominable medal has been struck--'
Frederick stopped; his face grew as pale as his father's used to do when extremely angry, and he lost control of himself.
'I did not wish to mention it, until we had found the culprit,' Sulkowski wound up. 'I and Brühl would forgive the offence to ourselves, but we cannot forgive the insult to your Majesty.'
'But who? Who?' asked Frederick.
'The man whose whole family including himself, owes everything to your Majesty's father. It is unheard of gratitude and daring--'
'Who? Who?' exclaimed Frederick,
'The Chamberlain Watzdorf.'
'Have you proofs?'
'I have a letter found in his rooms and several medals.'
'I don't wish to see them,' the Prince said extending his arm, 'nor him either; away, away--'
'Shall we let him go unpunished?' Sulkowski asked. 'It cannot be. He will carry his calumnies and spread them in other countries.'
'The Chamberlain Watzdorf? Watzdorf junior?' repeated Frederick. 'But what do you propose?' Saying this he wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
'Königstein,' said Sulkowski shortly.
There was a moment of silence. The Prince walked slowly, with bowed head. It was the first offence that he was obliged to punish.
'Where is Brühl?' he asked.
'Brühl left it to me,' answered the Count.
'Watzdorf! Königstein!' repeated Frederick sighing. Then stopping he turned to Sulkowski and said:--I don't wish to hear any more about it; do what you please.'
Sulkowski turned to Guarini, who walked behind them, and signed to him to approach, for he was the best man to amuse the Prince. The Padre ran as quickly as he could, guessing that he was needed.
'I am in despair!' cried he, 'my goose Angelo o l'amorosal is lost, flew away, seeing that Bandissin did not care for it; I am sure it will commit suicide in the forest. I rushed after it and was unfortunate to take three ladies for my goose; they will never forgive me this.'
The Prince's gloomy face brightened up; his white teeth appeared from beneath tightened lips. He looked at the Jesuit as if wishing to find the necessary cheeriness in the bright smiling face, remembering the Italian puleinello.
Guarini having guessed that something must have saddened the good lord, did his best to counteract its bad influence.
And in proportion as the Italian's jokes came out, the Prince seemed to forget all else and smiled. But the merry Father was obliged to renew his efforts to disperse the returning cloud, and he did not stop his joking until he heard the loud, hearty laughter, which announced that the Prince had forgotten about the sorrows of this world.
The next day the Chamberlain Watzdorf disappeared; he was the first victim of that reign. A few days later they began to whisper that Watzdorf had been escorted to Königstein. The Prince never mentioned his name; Sulkowski and Brühl did not wish to know anything about the affair.
Fear fell on the court and on the secret enemies of the two ministers.
In The Historical Mercury, a newspaper published in Paris, there appeared the following paragraph:
'Those who were familiar with the playful and satirical mind of that young nobleman, who was mixed up in certain affairs after the death of Augustus the Strong, and who showed his cutting wit, will not be astonished at the sad lot which befel him.'
Watzdorf never again appeared in this world. He died in Königstein after fourteen years of seclusion, killed by longing and solitude.
CHAPTER XII
A year after the preceding events, the palace occupied by Brühl was profusely illuminated. Nowhere was greater magnificence displayed during festivities than in Dresden, nowhere more enjoyment than in the capital of Saxony, where the tradition of luxury had been left by Augustus the Strong. From the court the luxury spread amongst those who surrounded the Prince, and on those who came in contact with them, even extending to rich burghers. The banks in those times gave balls for the court; everyone who furnished opportunity for enjoyment and could do something unusual in the way of entertaining, was welcomed.
Fireworks, illuminations, flowers, music, pictures were employed whenever there was opportunity for displaying them.
Brühl was one of the greatest spendthrifts among the nouveaux riches; he astounded even those whom nothing could surprise. The illumination of his palace surpassed everything of the kind ever seen in Dresden. A great crowd gazed from a respectful distance at the house of such a grandee; the palace shone with multi-coloured lanterns and wreaths of flowers. Over the porte-cochère, on a shield, from which two garlands of pink and white flowers hung down were the letters F and H lovingly blent. A little lower were placed two transparent shields with heraldic hieroglyphics unintelligible to the crowd. The courtiers explained that these were the coats of arms of the newly married couple.
The crowd had been standing for a long time when from the palace came a carriage preceded by runners and postillions on horseback. The carriage contained the mother, and the newly-married couple, coming to their home after the reception at the court. The beautiful young wife was about to enter the house for the first time.
Although no other guests were expected, on both sides of the stairs up to the first floor stood numerous lackeys wearing magnificent scarlet livery; on the first floor stood butlers and the minister's pages.
The house was furnished with princely magnificence; china, silver, bronzes, rugs and thousands of bibelots ornamented it. Brühl explained this luxury by saying that he wished to do honour to his lord; he declared that he spent his last penny in order to contribute to the magnificence of the house of Saxony. When the carriage stopped in front of the house, the Countess, assisted by her son-in-law, alighted first and went upstairs. Brühl offered his arm to his wife but she pretended not to see his movement and walked independently beside him. Her beautiful face was sad, stern and proud. There was not the slightest trace of joy on her gloomy features. She looked with indifference on the luxury of the house, as though she did not care to see it; she walked like a victim, who knows that she cannot change her fate and does not expect any happiness. She evidently had had time to grow cold, to think the matter over, to become familiar with her situation, for her face was chilly as a piece of marble. If there was grief within her, it had become chronic, slowly devouring.
The Countess Kolowrath stopped in the drawing-room and turned to look after the married couple. Frances came to her and was silent. On her other side Brühl, wearing a blue and gold velvet dress, stood smiling sweetly at his mother-in-law.
The Countess kissed her daughter silently on the forehead, and although the life of the court had hardened her, tears appeared in her eyes, while the newly married lady remained indifferent.
'Be happy,' the mother whispered. 'I bless you. Be happy!' and she pressed her hands to her eyes to hide her emotion. Brühl seized the other hand and kissed it.
'You need not be left alone,' the mother continued in a broken voice. 'It was my duty to accompany you here and to give you my blessing; but I don't wish to intrude upon you; I myself need rest after such emotion.'
She turned to Brühl.
'I commend you to your wife,' she said, 'be kind to her, love her. Frances will become accustomed to you; be happy! The happiness of this world is fragile and unstable--one must try to make life sweet and not embitter it. Frances, I hope that you will be good to him--'
She covered her eyes, as though some thought had prevented her from finishing what she had had in her mind.
Once more she bent over her daughter's forehead and kissed it. The son-in-law graciously offered his arm and conducted her downstairs to the court-carriage waiting for her, which she entered and hid herself from the gaze of the crowd.
The young bride remained alone for a time and when Brühl returned and wished to take hold of her arm, she looked at him surprised as if she had forgotten where she was and that she had become his wife.
'For God's sake,' the minister whispered, 'let us look happy at least before strangers. On the stage of life, we are all actors'--it was his favourite saying--'let us play our part well.'
Having said this he offered her his arm and conducted her through the row of lighted rooms, to her apartment. Everything she looked at was so magnificent, that to anyone but her it would have been a succession of surprises. She walked not looking and not seeing. At length they came to her dressing-room, situated in front of the chamber, in which two alabaster lamps were throwing a pale, mysterious light.
The young lady, seeing the open door before her, stopped; looked round for a chair, sat on one standing near the dressing-table, and became thoughtful.
They were alone; only the murmuring of the crowd admiring the illuminations was heard.
'Madam,' said Brühl sweetly, 'you are in your own house, and your most obedient servant stands before you.'
He wished to kneel; Frances rose suddenly, sighed, as if throwing off a burden, and said with a voice in which there was sadness:
'I have had enough of this comedy, played the whole day, and it is not necessary for us to continue it. We must be sincere and frank; let us be so from the first day. We have contracted, not matrimony, not a union of hearts, but a bargain; let us try to make it advantageous to us both.'
Speaking thus and not looking at her husband, she began to take off her wreath and veil. There was no emotion in her voice.
'If you do not wish anyone to overhear our conversation,' she added, 'be so kind as to assure your-self that nobody listens at the door.'
'I am sure of that, for I have given orders,' said Brühl, 'and usually my orders are executed.'
Frances took some perfume from a bottle standing on the dressing-table and put it on her temples.
'I cannot be happy,' she continued while undressing, 'as other women are; the man whom I loved, I don't conceal that, is in a dark prison; you love another woman, therefore we are indifferent to each other: although nobody told me what kind of sacrifice I am destined for, I understand it all the same. But I wish to enjoy life and I shall enjoy it--I must have all its pleasures. The poison must be sweetened; that I deserve. I like luxury and I shall have it; I must have distraction in order not to cry; I must have noise in order not to hear the voice of my heart: I must have all that.--You are a stranger to me, I am a stranger to you.--We may be good friends, if you try to deserve my friendship. Who knows, I may take a fancy and be good to you for a few days, but I will not be anybody's slave--even--'
She turned to Brühl who stood silent and embarrassed.
'Do you understand me?'
The minister remained silent.
'Nobody said a word about it to me,' she continued. 'I guessed it with the instinct of a woman; I know to what I am destined.--'
'Madam,' Brühl interrupted, 'there are things about which one must not speak; to betray them means--'
'You don't need to tell me that, I know everything. I can reveal to you, what you think is a secret. Augustus II wished to be famous by his amours, his pious son would not wish to be suspected of it. Therefore everything must be arranged in such a way that nobody can see or hear.'
She laughed ironically.
'I expect, if I give you power, favour, that I must have something in return, and I demand that my fancies shall be respected; and it is quite sure I shall have fancies. I am anxious to know life, I am thirsty for it; I must become intoxicated in order to forget my pain. Do you think,' said she with animation, 'that I shall ever forget about that unfortunate man? I see the walls, between which he is shut, the dark room, hard bed, the face of his jailer, and himself looking through a small window. But in that man dwells a strong spirit, which may keep him alive till the door of the prison is opened. Is it true that your other victim, the poor Hoym, has hanged himself in the prison?'
Brühl looked at the floor.
'Yes,' he said drily, 'it is no great loss; I shall not cry for him.'
'Nor I either,' rejoined Frances, 'but I shall never forget the other man. You understand that the hand that has done this, although I was bound to it in church,--cannot touch mine. We are and shall remain strangers.'
She smiled ironically and continued:
'You became a Catholic, although this is also a secret. It commends you to me! What tact and policy! The king of Poland must have a Catholic for his minister in Poland--Brühl there is Catholic; the Kurfürst of Saxony must have a Protestant minister in Saxony: Brühl here will be a zealous Lutheran. If Zinzendorf became King of the Moravian Brothers I am sure you would belong to the Herrnhut community--C'est parfait! C'est délicieux!'
'Madam,' said Brühl with emotion in his voice, 'unknowingly you wound me very severely. I am a Christian and a pious one; denomination to me is a secondary thing, by the Gospel, our Saviour's love--'
He raised his eyes.
'It is a part of your rôle; I understand,' said Frances. 'Then let us leave it, I should like to rest and be alone.'
She looked into his eyes.
'But what would the servants say? What would the people say if you dismiss me like that? It cannot be!'
'It cannot be otherwise!' Frances exclaimed. 'You can spend the night here on the sofa or in an armchair, I will lock myself in the bedroom.'
Brühl looked at her uneasily.
'Then permit me to go and change my clothes and to return here. Nobody will know what our mutual relations are, but nobody must guess it.'
'I understand that! It must be a secret and we must appear the most loving couple. Our platonic marriage will be very amusing. The men will envy you, the women will envy me; you are not bad-looking for the women; the king is better looking than you, but then he is a king! I prefer to be the mistress of the King secretly, than the wife of his minister openly.'
She began to laugh sarcastically.
'I can imagine how his Majesty will be afraid to look at me in the presence of his consort--'
'Madam,' said Brühl wringing his hands, 'the walls have ears.'
Frances shrugged her shoulders.
'You know,' whispered Brühl, 'that should there be even the slightest suspicion, we are both lost.'
'Especially I,' the woman rejoined, 'as I should have to remain with you en tête à tête, without any hope of consolation, and that would poison my life.--Consequently I shall be silent.'
Brühl slipped out of the room. The rooms through which he passed were still illuminated; he walked slowly and at the other end of the house entered his dressing-room. Two lackeys waited for him knowing that he would come to undress.
A morning attire lay on the table; it consisted of a gorgeous robe de chambre made of blue Lyons satin with bright flowers, snow white linen, and light silk slippers.
As orders were given to extinguish the lights, the lackey took a silver candelabra and lighted Brühl to his chamber. At the door the minister dismissed him with a nod and entered.
There was no one in the dressing-room, the door leading to the bed-chamber was locked.
Brühl looked through the window, the street was already empty. The illuminations were out; a night lamp burned at a corner; a clock in the town struck midnight. Over the black houses, standing in half shadow, the moon stood surrounded by fleecy clouds.
The night was warm, quiet.
In the chamber there was not the slightest movement.
The husband of the beautiful Frances walked several times to and fro looking for a place to rest. He was obliged to content himself with a small sofa and a chair instead of a bed. He lay down, smiled sardonically, thinking about the future, then began to doze.
He dreamed of gold, diamonds, lace, of princely luxury, but not of a human face and heart; then about white clouds with his own monogram, over which there shone the coronet of a Count.
When he opened his eyes, it was already daylight. He ran down from his improvised and uncomfortable bed, and went quickly to his apartment.
First he looked at a clock and was surprised to find that it was already six o'clock, at which hour he usually began his work. When he entered his study he saw Father Guarini standing in the centre and smiling sweetly.
The Jesuit put out his hand to him; Brühl, confused and blushing slightly, kissed it. Before they spoke their eyes met. Then Guarini said mysteriously:
'Ministers cannot sleep long even the first night after their wedding, especially when they have as powerful enemies as you have.'
'With you, Father, and with the Princess's protection, I need not be afraid,' said Brühl.
'It is always necessary to be cautious,' whispered Guarini, 'kings do not rule for ever, my dear Brühl.
'But you, Fathers,' said Brühl also in a whisper, 'rule, and shall rule over the King, and his conscience.'
'My dear friend, I am not immortal, I am already old, and I feel that it will soon be all over with me.'
They were silent for some time. Guarini walked to and fro, with his hands behind his back.
'The Princess and I have prepared the Prince von Lichtenstein,' said he, 'but it goes very slowly. We shall not hasten with that campaign, we must wait until I and circumstances have prepared our lord. At present Sulkowski is first with him. Sulkowski is everything. On your side you have the memory of his father; try to have something more--'
He became silent.
'Piano, piano, pianissimo!' whispered the Jesuit. 'One must know how to talk to our lord. Al canto si conosce l'ucello, ed al parlar il cervello.'
Next he began to whisper in Brühl's ear, then having glanced at the clock he took his hat and rushed out.
There was a rap at the other door.
The yellow, contorted face of Henniche appeared through the half-opened door, and then the whole man appeared. Under his arm he had a pile of papers.
First he glanced at Brühl's face consulting it as if it were a barometer to tell his humour.
'Your Excellency,' he said, 'in the first place, my congratulations.'
'Business before all,' the minister interrupted, 'we need money, money, and always money for the court, for our affairs in Poland, for the King, for me for you, not to mention Sulkowski.'
'They whisper,' said Henniche. 'The noblemen are angry, the townsmen grumble and appeal to their privileges, to immunitates.'
'Who?' asked Brühl.
'Almost all of them.'
'But who is at their head? Who speaks most?'
'Many of them.'
'Send the Swiss guard, seize a few of them and send them to Pleissenburg. There they will keep quiet.'
'But whom shall I choose?'
'I should doubt your acuteness if you do not understand. Do not reach so high as to touch some partisan of Sulkowski's. Do not reach too low, for it would be useless. Do not take a man who has relations at the court--'
'But the reason?' asked the ex-lackey.
Brühl laughed.
'Must I give you a reason? A word spoken too loud, crimen laesae majestatis. You should understand if you are not a blockhead.'
'I understand,' said Henniche sighing.
Brühl began to walk to and fro.
'You must tell Globig to carry out my orders. During the last hunting-party a petition was nearly handed to the Prince. A nobleman hid behind a bush. A few hours before a hunting-party, or a ride, or a walk, the roads should be inspected and guards posted. Nobody should be allowed to approach the Prince--'
'I cannot do everything by myself. There are Loss, Hammer, Globig and others.'
'You must supervise them.'
The conversation changed into a confidential whispering, but it did not last long. Brühl yawned, Henniche understood and went out. Chocolate was brought. Brühl swallowed it quickly, drank some water, and rang the bell for a lackey to help him to dress. In the dressing-room everything was ready, and the changing of clothes did not take long. The porte-chaise with porters stood at the door. It was nine o'clock when the minister ordered them to carry him to the house occupied by the Austrian envoy, the Prince Venceslas von Lichtenstein. The house stood in the Old Market Square and the journey was not a long one. This hour Brühl usually spent with the King, but to-day he took advantage of his wedding and went to see the Prince von Lichtenstein. Brühl did not forget that that morning it was essential he should appear to everybody the happiest man in the world; therefore although he was tired, his face beamed with joy.
The Prince von Lichtenstein, a lord, and, in the full meaning of the word, a courtier of one of the oldest ruling houses in Europe, was a man well fitted for his position. He was tall, good-looking; his features were regular, his mien was lordly; he was affable and polite; in his eyes one could see intelligence and diplomatic cunning. Although Brühl was only a petty nobleman, but now, as prime minister of a Prince related to the reigning house of Austria, and as husband of the Countess Kolowrath, almost equal to Lichtenstein, he was clever enough not to show it and he greeted the envoy with respect.
They entered the study. The Prince asked Brühl to be seated, and he himself took a chair opposite him.
'I return,' Brühl said 'to our conversation of yesterday.'
'My dear Brühl, I assure you that you may expect every assistance from my court; title, wealth, protection, but we must go hand in hand--you understand.'
Brühl put out his hand immediately.
'Yes,' he said, 'we must go hand in hand. But nobody must see our hands--the greatest secrecy must be observed, otherwise everything would come to nought. I should be overthrown and with me the man who serves you faithfully.'
'Do you doubt?' asked the Prince? 'My word is as good as that of the Emperor.'
'I am satisfied with your word,' said Brühl.
'Is it the case, that Sulkowski has some plans?' the Prince asked.
'There is no doubt about that.'
'But nothing definite.'
'On the contrary, the plan is written.'
'Have you seen it?'
Brühl smiled and did not answer.
'Could you get it?' asked the Prince.
Brühl's smile became still more significant. The Prince bent towards him and seized both his hands.
'If you give me that plan in writing--'
He hesitated for a moment.
'It would mean much the same as giving you my head,' said Brühl.
'But I hope you could trust me with your head,' the Prince rejoined.
'Certainly,' said Brühl, 'but once the plan is in your hands there could be no further alteration, one of us must fall, and you know how attached the Prince is to him.'
Lichtenstein rose from his seat.
'But we have on our side the Princess, Father Guarini, you, Father Volger and Faustina,' he said eagerly.
Brühl smiled. 'Sulkowski has on his side the Prince's favour and heart.'
'Yes, it is true, that weak people are stubborn, said the Prince, 'but acting on them slowly and intelligently one can always influence them. Never too suddenly, for their feebleness, which they feel, makes them stubborn; one must act on them in such a way as to make them believe that they act by themselves.'
'Sulkowski was the Prince's playmate in boyhood, he trusts him in matters in which he would trust nobody else.'
'I do not deny that the work is difficult, but I do not think it impossible,' answered Lichtenstein. 'But that plan? Have you seen it? Have you read it?'
Brühl checked the Prince's impatience by a cool business question.
'Prince, permit me to speak first about the conditions.'
'With the greatest pleasure.'
'I am very sorry, for I respect Sulkowski for other reasons,' said Brühl; 'he is attached to the Prince, he is faithful to him; he thinks he could make Saxony powerful; but if his influence increases, his ambition may lead him on wrong roads. Sulkowski does not appreciate our saintly Princess; Sulkowski does not respect the clergy.'
'My dear Brühl,' interrupted the Prince, 'I know him as well as you do, if not better; he does not stand on ceremony when he is with me; I knew him in Vienna, where he was with the Prince.'
'We must overthrow Sulkowski.' said Brühl emphatically. 'I ask for nothing more, but this must be done for the King's and the country's good. Then I shall remain alone, and in me you will have the most faithful servant.'
'But that plan? That plan?' repeated Lichtenstein. 'Give it to me and I consent to everything.'
Brühl put his hand carelessly into his side pocket; seeing this, Lichtenstein drew nearer.
Brühl took out a paper and held it before the Prince's eyes. But at the moment when the paper was about to pass into Lichtenstein's hands, there was a rap at the door, and a lackey, appearing on the threshold, announced:
'The Count Sulkowski.'
In the twinkling of an eye the paper disappeared into a pocket and Brühl, sitting comfortably back in his chair, was taking snuff from a gold snuff box.
Sulkowski, standing in the doorway, looked at Brühl and Lichtenstein, but more especially at his competitor who put out his hand to him and smiled sweetly.
'What an early bird you are!' said Sulkowski. 'The very next day after your wedding you visit ambassadors in the morning. I thought you were still at your lady's feet.'
'Duties before all,' Brühl answered. 'I was told that the Prince was going to Vienna, and I came to take leave of him.'
'Prince, are you going to Vienna?' asked Sulkowski surprised. 'I did not know anything about it.'
Lichtenstein seemed a little embarrassed.
'I do not know yet--perchance--' he stammered after a pause. 'I said something about it yesterday at the court, and I see that Brühl, who knows about everything, has learned it.'