← catalogue

The Countess Cosel: A Romance of History of the Times of Augustus the Strong

by Józef Ignacy Kraszewski · English · Gutenberg #37623 · 486,885 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Countess Cosel: A Romance of History of the Times of Augustus the Strong
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: The Countess Cosel: A Romance of History of the Times of Augustus the Strong

Author: Józef Ignacy Kraszewski

Translator: Count de Soissons


        
Release date: October 4, 2011 [eBook #37623]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37623

Credits: Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COUNTESS COSEL: A ROMANCE OF HISTORY OF THE TIMES OF AUGUSTUS THE STRONG ***




Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive












   1. Pages scan source:
      http://www.archive.org/details/countesscoselar00krasgoog

   2. Alternate spelling of author's name: Jozef Ignacy Kraszewski






[Illustration: Frontispiece. The Countess Cosel.]







                           The Countess Cosel

                          A Romance of History
                          of the Times of
                          Augustus the Strong




                                   By
                          Joseph J. Kraszewski



                        Translated and Edited by
                           S. C. de Soissons




                            _WITH PORTRAITS_




                                 LONDON
                          DOWNEY & CO. Limited
                     12 YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN
                                  1901





                                 LONDON
                    GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, LIMITED,
                  ST. JOHN'S HOUSE, CLERKENWELL, E.C.






                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


   The Countess Cosel _Frontispiece_
   Augustus II. of Saxony (the Strong)
   The Princess Teschen
   The Countess Denhoff
   The Countess Orzelska




                              INTRODUCTION

Joseph J. Kraszewski was born in Russian Poland in 1812. He came of a
noble and once wealthy family. His parents quitting their estates
during the war between France and Russia, the boy was left in the care
of his grandparents on his mother's side. From these he first acquired
a taste for literature and art. In his eleventh year, Kraszewski was
sent to the College at Biala, where he remained until 1826. He then
entered the College at Lublin, and in 1829 he proceeded to the
University of Wilno, where he gave his attention principally to the
study of languages, especially of Old Slavonic, Russian, Latin, Greek,
Hebrew, and Arabic. He spent much of his time in reading old documents
and manuscripts, and the materials thus gathered he subsequently
utilized in his historical romances and monographs.

The novel had at this period begun to be the most popular form of
literary expression in Western Europe. Kraszewski read and admired the
works of Le Sage, Voltaire, Jean Paul, Hoffmann, and even Washington
Irving. His first literary efforts were in close imitation of his own
countryman, Count Skarbek, and of Laurence Sterne. He began to write in
1829, and at this early period of his life he produced several
noteworthy novels.

In 1831 he was arrested by the Russian Government for his connection
with the revolutionary movement; but through the influence of his
aunt--an intimate friend of Prince Dologoruky, the Governor-General of
Wilno--he was subjected only to arrest at home, instead of being
deported to Siberia. Complete freedom of movement was not restored to
him until 1833. In this year he became the leader of a considerable
literary movement in Wilno. He edited there a weekly newspaper, and
from his pen flowed poetry, dramas, novels, and historical studies. His
literary activity was indeed amazing.

In 1836 Kraszewski left Wilno, and took unto himself a wife. He retired
to his estates in the country, where he endeavoured to reconcile the
life of a country gentleman with that of a _litterateur_. In 1855 he
came to Warsaw, and established in the Polish capital two periodicals,
a monthly and a daily. At this time the Marquis Wielopski was, on the
Czar's instructions, endeavouring to find a _modus vivendi_ between
Russia and Poland, but his policy was fiercely attacked by Kraszewski
in his daily newspaper; and when the insurrection against Russian rule
broke out in 1861, he was obliged to fly from Poland. He settled in
Dresden, where he passed the remainder of his life in continuous
literary effort, enriching Polish literature with an astonishing number
of works in all branches of _belles-lettres_. In 1879 the Polish nation
celebrated at Cracow, in a solemn and imposing fashion, the fiftieth
anniversary of Joseph Kraszewski's literary _debut_. After his death he
was laid to rest in the Pantheon set aside by the Poles for the
sepulture of their literary celebrities. As an instance of the
importance of Kraszewski's personality, it is related that Bismarck
signalled him out as the man through whom he might best strike a blow
at the Polish members of the German Reichstag. He was tried for
"Attempted Treason," and, on the very slightest evidence, was sentenced
to four and a half years' imprisonment in the fortress of Magdebourg.

As a mighty reformer of Polish literature, Kraszewski deserves the
highest esteem of his countrymen: as a diligent worker and social
reformer he stands an example for any nation. He has left us a gallery
of pictures, of historical episodes, and characteristic studies of
interesting historical personages. During his long residence in
Dresden, he devoted himself specially to a study of men and manners at
the Courts of Augustus the Second ("the Strong") and Augustus the
Third. In "The Countess Cosel" he gives us views of Augustus the Second
and his courtiers which are almost unique as pictures of Court life.
The story of the Countess has all the air of a dramatic romance
carefully planned by an ingenious novelist; yet it is a faithful
narrative of events, illumined by the light of Kraszewski's genius.

                                          S. C. De Soissons.




[Illustration: Augustus II. of Saxony (the Strong)]





                           THE COUNTESS COSEL




                               CHAPTER I.


All was silent, dark, and sad in the King's castle, in the capital of
Saxony. It was an autumn night, but at the end of September, the leaves
are only beginning to turn yellow, cold winds are very rarely felt, the
days are usually bright, and the nights warm.

But on this evening the wind was blowing from the north; long black
clouds followed each other in quick succession, and if a star made its
appearance for a moment in the lead-coloured sky, it was quickly
covered by the thick clouds. Before the gates of the castle of
Georgenthor, and in the court-yards, silent sentries were pacing to and
fro. The windows of the King's apartments, usually so brilliantly
lighted, were dark. This was a most unusual event during the reign
of Augustus, surnamed the Strong, because he was wont to break
horse-shoes, men, sadness, and ill-fortune--but nothing could break
him. Throughout the whole of Germany, indeed, throughout the whole of
Europe, he was famed for the brilliancy of his court. There were none
who could surpass him in magnificence, refinement of taste, and lordly
prodigality.

This year, however, Augustus had been defeated. The Swedes had taken
from him the electoral crown of Poland, and the almost dethroned King,
chased from the kingdom, had returned to the Kurfuersten-neste, to weep
over the millions he had spent in vain, and the fearful ingratitude of
the Poles. The Saxons could not understand how anyone could fail to
admire such a good and noble lord, or how anyone could be unwilling to
die for his sake.

Augustus understood this still less than they did. The word
"ingratitude" now accompanied every mention he made of Poland, and at
length his courtiers avoided talking about it, about the King of
Sweden, and about those things that Augustus the Strong had promised
himself to set right.

When Augustus returned to Dresden, that city made every possible effort
to distract its lord, and it was only on this evening that everything
was quiet within the castle. But why? The King had not gone to any of
his other castles; the Leipsic fair had not yet begun; and besides, it
had even been rumoured in the court, and throughout the city, that
Augustus intended to order a series of balls, and carousals, to spite
the Swedish monarch, and to prove to that august personage that he
cared nothing for the temporary defeat he had sustained.

The few passers-by who wended their way along the streets surrounding
the castle, gazed at the windows in astonishment, wondering why, at
this early hour, everything should be so quiet in the King's
apartments. But anyone who penetrated further, and passing through the
first large gate, crossed the courtyard, would have discovered that it
was only on one side of the castle that silence reigned supreme, and
that the interior of the building was seething with life and animation.

Despite the keen north wind that was blowing, the windows on the first
floor were wide open, and through the curtains poured forth streams of
light, reflected from many mirrors; whilst from time to time there
issued from the depths of the hall, peals of boisterous laughter,
which, ringing through the spacious courtyard, startled the watchful
sentries, and echoing against the grey walls, gradually died away in
the distance.

This laughter was accompanied by more or less noise, which alternately
increased, subsided into murmurs, or died away into silence. At times
there was loud clapping of hands as though after a speech, and then
again was heard deep, sonorous, full-toned, king-like laughter, the
laughter of a person not afraid of being heard, or of being answered in
shouts of derision. At each fresh outburst of merriment, the guard
pacing, halberd in hand, beneath the castle windows, paused in his
walk, raised his eyes, and then with a deep sigh looked down on the
ground.

There was something awful in this midnight feast, held while the wind
was blowing fiercely, and the capital lay wrapt in sleep.

Here the King was making merry.

Since his return from Poland, such evening debauches, with a few
intimate courtiers, had been more frequent. Augustus the Strong,
defeated by Charles XII., was ashamed to appear at great feasts; but as
he needed some distraction from the sad thoughts that oppressed him, he
gathered round him a few courtiers to whom he was attached. For these
he ordered his servants to bring out the golden wine that was yearly
imported from Hungary for the King's private use, and of this they
drank until daybreak, by which time every one had fallen from their
seats. Then Hoffman came, and conducted the King, still laughing
heartily, to bed.

To these select assemblies of the priests of Bacchus only a few persons
were admitted, only those, in fact, in whom Augustus had entire
confidence; for it was said that after drinking a few bumpers the King
was dangerous. His strength was the strength of Hercules, and his anger
the anger of Jove. If he were made angry in the morning, he said
nothing, but his face grew crimson, his eyes glittered, and his lips
trembled. He would turn away, and would not look at the person who had
offended him. But after a few draughts of wine it was a different
matter; at such times he had thrown many a one through the window, who
had fallen on the pavement to rise no more.

His anger was rare, but it was terrible as a thunderbolt. In ordinary
life there could not be found a more affable or benevolent lord. It has
even been remarked that the more he disliked a man, the more sweetly he
smiled on him; and the day before they were imprisoned in Koenigstein,
where his favourites had sometimes had to remain for several years,
Augustus would embrace them as though they were his dearest friends; so
noble was his nature, so wishful was he to soften the hard lot of his
people.

As it was necessary for the lord to have some amusement, it was nothing
remarkable that two bears should sometimes be brought to the castle, or
two enemies made drunk, and then induced to fight. This was a sport in
which the King especially delighted, and when two drunken Vitzthums,
Friesens or Hoyms, began to quarrel, he used to split his sides with
laughing. This was such an innocent recreation.

The King could make them quarrel very easily, for he knew
everything--he knew who was in love, and with whom; which man hated the
other; how much money they had taken from his treasury without his
permission; he even knew what each of his courtiers was thinking, and
if he did not know, he guessed. Who the spies were who betrayed them,
the courtiers could by no means discover; and the result of this was
that each one suspected his neighbour; brother was afraid of brother;
the husband distrusted the wife; the father had no confidence in his
son; and King Augustus the Strong looked on, and laughed at the mob!

Yes, from his exalted position he looked down on the comedy of life,
not disdaining to play in it the role of Jove, Hercules, and
Apollo--and in the evening the role of Bacchus.

On the evening in question, being very sad and weary, the King
determined to make all his ministers and favourites drunk, and then
make them confess for his amusement.

The select companions of the King's feast were seated in a brilliantly
lighted room, one side of which was occupied by an enormous sideboard,
bright with silver and cut glass. Amongst those present were: Count
Taparel Lagnasco, who had just arrived from Rome; Count Wackerbarth,
from Vienna, Watzdorf, called the peasant of Mansfeld; Fuerstenberg,
Imhoff, Friesen, Vitzthum, and Hoym; and last, but not least, Friedrich
Wilhelm, Baron Kyan, famous for his wit, who made every one else laugh,
whilst he remained perfectly serious.

The King, with dress and vest unfastened, sat leaning on one elbow--he
was very sad. His handsome face, usually so bright, was veiled in a
mist of sorrow. Several empty bottles bore witness to the fact that
drinking had already continued for some time, yet on the King's face no
results of the goodly wine were visible. The golden liquid had not been
able to make his gloomy thoughts more bright.

The courtiers jested with each other, endeavouring to make their lord
laugh, but without avail. Augustus sat silent and thoughtful, as though
he heard not a word that was spoken. This was most unusual; the King
was so seldom sad, indeed he was ever eager for mirth and distraction.
His companions grew uneasy and looked at him askance.

At the opposite end of the table sat Kyan, gloomy, and unassuming. As
though to mock the King, he also leaned on one elbow, stretched out his
legs, and looked up at the ceiling with a deep sigh.

His melancholy air gave him an absurd appearance.

"Hark you," whispered Fuerstenberg, nudging Wackerbarth with his
elbow--they were both tipsy by this time--"do you see our lord? Nothing
makes him smile--and it is already eleven o'clock--he ought to be in a
good humour by now. This is our fault."

"I am here as a guest," replied Wackerbarth, shrugging his shoulders.
"It is none of my business; as you know him better than I do, you
should find the proper way to amuse him."

"He is tired of Lubomirska--that is clear," added Taparel.

"And then it is difficult to digest those Swedes," whispered
Wackerbarth. "I do not wonder at him."

"Eh! Eh! We have forgotten all about the Swedes; some one else will
defeat them for us, we can be sure of that, and then we will go and
gather the fruits," said Fuerstenberg. "He is not bothered about the
Swedes, but he has had enough of Lubomirska--we must find him some
other woman."

"Is that such a difficult matter?" whispered Wackerbarth.

Then they began to whisper together, but so low that they could not be
overheard, for, as though suddenly awakened from slumber, the King was
looking round on his companions. His glance wandered from one to
another, until it rested at length on the tragic pose of Baron Kyan,
and on seeing this the monarch burst into a hearty laugh.

This was quite sufficient to make every one else laugh.

"Kyan," cried the King, "what is the matter with you? Has your
sweetheart betrayed you? Have you no money? You look just like
Prometheus, with an invisible eagle devouring your liver."

Kyan turned slowly round, much after the fashion of a wooden doll, and
drew a deep sigh; so deep was it that it extinguished a six-light
candelabra that was standing near him.

"Kyan, what is the matter with you?" repeated the King.

"Your Majesty," replied the Baron, "personally, there is nothing the
matter with me. I am neither hungry, nor in love, nor in debt, nor
jealous; but I am in despair."

"Why? What has happened? Speak!"

"I am grieving over our beloved monarch!" answered Kyan. "Born to be
happy; endowed with a godlike face, with Herculean strength, with a
generous heart; created to have the world lie at your feet--and yet
your Majesty is sad!"

"Yes, that is true!" said Augustus, frowning. "I am sad!"

"Fifteen of us are sitting here, and none of us know how to make you
merry; the women betray you, and grow old; the wine turns sour; your
money is stolen; and when in the evening you wish to enjoy yourself in
merry company, your faithful subjects meet you with death's-head faces.
What wonder, then, that I, who love my King, am in despair?"

Augustus smiled; then, seizing a goblet, he knocked with it on the
table. Immediately two dwarfs stepped forth from behind the sideboard,
and stood before the King.

"Iramm," said the King, "order a big-bellied bottle of Ambrosia to be
brought here! Kyan, I make you cup-bearer."

Ambrosia was the name given to the Hungarian wine furnished to the
King, and pressed out for him specially by Count Zichy. It was the wine
of wines, thick like syrup, treacherously smooth, but strong enough to
make a giant dead drunk.

Iramm and his companion disappeared, and shortly afterwards a negro
entered, bearing a silver tray, on which was an enormous bottle. All
the guests rose at once and greeted it with low bows.

"Kyan, do your duty!" cried the King.

Kyan rose. The dwarfs brought another tray with glasses; but on the
cup-bearer whispering something to them, they withdrew behind the
sideboard, from whence they emerged a few moments later, bringing
glasses of various sizes.

With the dignity of an official who is fully conscious of the
importance of his position, Kyan began carefully arranging the glasses.

In the centre he placed a large and beautiful glass for the King, this
he surrounded by smaller glasses destined for the favourites, and
outside these was another row of glasses, much smaller than the last,
so small indeed that they looked like thimbles.

All watched him with curiosity.

Then, taking the large bottle, Kyan began to pour out the wine, being
careful not to shake it. First he filled all the smallest glasses. It
is true that these did not hold much wine, but there were so many of
them that before they were all filled, the bottle was half empty. The
cup-bearer next filled the larger glasses. The wine in that large
bottle grew speedily less, and by the time he came to the King's glass
there was no wine left. Then Kyan poured into it the lees that remained
at the bottom of the bottle, and looked at Augustus.

"What a splendid cup-bearer you are," said the King, laughing. "I am
the last. What does that mean?"

The courtiers also laughed.

"Your Majesty," said Kyan, placing the empty bottle on the table, "this
is nothing new. What I have done to-day with the wine is only what your
officials do every day with the income of the state. In the first
place, every small employe fills his own pockets, then the superiors,
of course, do not forget themselves, and after that there remains
nothing for the King."

The King clapped his hands, and looked round on those present.

"Kyan, your health! The parable is worthy of AEsop. But order another
bottle for me."

The negro brought a second bottle of Ambrosia.

All laughed because the King laughed, but they looked askance at Kyan,
who, having taken the smallest glass, was drinking to the health of the
Hercules of Saxony.

Then they all fell on their knees, and, raising their glasses, shouted
acclamation.

The King emptied his glass, and said,--

"Let us talk of something else."

Fuerstenberg was the first to rise.

"Your Majesty," said he, "at this hour one should only speak of that
which rules over both the night and the day; and that is Woman."

"Good!" exclaimed the King. "Let every one describe his favourite.
Fuerstenberg shall begin."

The King smiled maliciously as he said this, and Fuerstenberg made a
grimace.

"The precedence has been given to me," said the young favourite, "but
this is only a proof that his Majesty sees everything. The King knows
that I cannot lie, and this is why he exposes me to such a humiliation.
But I entreat your Majesty to excuse me from drawing a picture of my
favourite."

"No, no!" exclaimed several voices. "It is not necessary to give the
portrait a name, but the King's commands must be obeyed."

All knew, more or less, why the young Prince was reluctant to speak.
This was a critical moment of his life, for he was playing a love
comedy with a widow over forty years of age, and famous for the fact
that, owing to the thickness of the paint she put on her face, it was
impossible for any one to see the colour of her skin. The widow was
rich, and Fuerstenberg was in need of money.

When they became too noisy, the King commanded silence, and said,--

"You must depict this painted love of yours."

To gain courage to perform the task imposed on him, the giddy young
courtier emptied his glass.

"My love," said he, "is the prettiest lady in the world. Who can deny
it? Who can tell what is hidden beneath the mask which she puts on in
order to prevent common mortals from looking at her?"

A loud burst of laughter here interrupted him.

Beside him sat Adolf Hoym. He was a well-made man, but his expression
was disagreeable and his small eyes had a timid look. Hoym was famous
for his love adventures, but for several years he had kept them so
secret that it was thought they no longer had an attraction for him. It
was said that he had married, but no one had seen his wife. She was
hidden away at his country house.

Hoym was already tipsy, that could easily be told by the strange
movements of his head, and by the efforts he made to raise his arms by
dropping his eyelids.

It was the best fun possible for the King and his companions to catch
the Secretary of the Treasury in a state when his mind could no longer
control his tongue.

"Hoym's turn now," said the King. "You, Hoym, can have no excuse. We
all know that you are a connoisseur of female beauty, and that you
cannot live without love; nothing ever goes beyond these walls. Come,
now, confess!"

Hoym turned his head, and played with his glass.

"He! he! he!" he laughed.

Baron Kyan filled up his glass.

Hoym seized and emptied it with the stupid avidity of a drunken man
consumed with a burning thirst.

His face grew crimson.

"He! he! he! You wish to know what my love looks like," he began. "But
you must know that I have no need of a mistress, for I have a wife
beautiful as a goddess!"

All burst out laughing, but the King looked at him inquisitively.

"You may laugh," continued Hoym, "but the man who has not seen her, has
not seen Venus, and I think even Venus herself would look rather like a
country washerwoman, if placed beside her. Can I describe her? In her
eyes alone there is so much power that no mortal could resist her.
Praxiteles could not have shaped a more perfect form. It is impossible
to describe the charm of her smile, and yet the stern goddess does not
smile every day."

They nodded, but without believing what he said. Hoym would have
stopped here, but the King said,--

"Describe her better, Hoym."

"Who can describe perfection?" said Hoym, raising his eyes. "She
possesses every good quality, and has not one single drawback."

"I am quite ready to believe that she is beautiful," exclaimed
Lagnasco, "for fickle Hoym has been constant to her for three years."

"He exaggerates! He is drunk!" interrupted Fuerstenberg. "Would you dare
to say that she is more beautiful than the Princess Teschen?"

Hoym shrugged his shoulders, and glanced timidly at the King, who said
quietly,--

"There must be no consideration, except for the truth. Is she more
beautiful than Lubomirska?"

"Your Majesty," exclaimed Hoym enthusiastically, "the Princess is a
beautiful woman, but my wife is a goddess. There is not another woman
anywhere, at the court, in the city, in the whole of Saxony, or indeed
in the whole of Europe, who is as beautiful as my wife!"

The hall re-echoed with a gigantic peal of wild laughter.

"Hoym is very amusing when he is drunk!"

"How funny the Secretary to the Treasury is!"

"What a very droll man!"

The King did not laugh. Hoym, under the influence of the Ambrosia, had
evidently forgotten where he was, and to whom he was talking.

"Yes, laugh!" he exclaimed. "You all know me! You call me Don Juan; you
acknowledge that I am a judge of female beauty. Why should I lie?"

Here he looked at the King and was terrified at the expression of his
features. So terrified was he that he almost became sober. He would
have liked to withdraw, but, being unable, he stood there pale and
trembling.

In vain the others tried to make him talk further; Hoym only looked
down at the floor and became thoughtful.

The King nodded to Kyan, who filled Hoym's glass with Ambrosia.

"We have drunk the health of our divine Hercules," cried Fuerstenberg,
"now let us drink to the health of our godly Apollo!"

Some drank kneeling, others standing; Hoym, who had risen tottering,
was obliged to lean on the table. The effects of the wine, that fear
had checked for a time, returned. His head swam--he emptied his glass
at one draught.

Behind the King's chair stood Fuerstenberg, whom that monarch
caressingly called Fuerstchen. To him Apollo now turned,--

"Fuerstchen," said he quietly, "Hoym has not lied; he has been hiding
his treasure from us for several years, we must force him to show it to
us. Do what you please, no matter what the cost, but we must see her."

Fuerstenberg smiled; he and the others were much pleased at this. The
King's present mistress, Princess Teschen, had against her all the
friends of Chancellor Beichlingen, whom she had succeeded in
overthrowing, and after whose downfall she had inherited the palace
situated in Pirna Street, and although Fuerstenberg had served her
against the other ladies who had laid siege to the King's heart, yet he
was ready to serve Augustus against the whole world. Lubomirska's
beauty was not very great; to tell the truth, she was somewhat
_passee_, and her manners of a fine lady had begun to weary the King,
who liked his mistresses to be of a more daring and more lively
temperament. Fuerstenberg had guessed all this from the King's
conversation. Rushing across to Hoym, he leant over his chair, and said
aloud,--

"My dear Count, I am ashamed of you! You have lied most impudently, and
in the presence of the King too. You have been practising a joke on him
and on us. I admit that the wife of such a connoisseur as you are may,
perhaps, not be a scarecrow, but to compare her to Venus, or even to
the Princess Teschen, that is a wretched joke."

Again the wine began to act on Hoym's head.

"What I have said," exclaimed he angrily, "is nothing but the truth!
_Tausend Donner-wetter Potz und Blitz!_"

All laughed at the rough exclamation, but at such friendly reunions the
King forgave all such liberties; and, while he was drinking, even
common mortals were allowed to throw their arms round his neck, and
kiss him, and were not afraid that their Hercules would turn and
strangle them.

"I bet a thousand ducats," shouted Fuerstenberg, "that your wife is not
more beautiful than any of the other ladies of the court."

They poured more wine into Hoym's glass, who now drank from despair.

"I accept!" said he, speaking through his clenched teeth.

"I will be the judge," said Augustus. "And we cannot postpone sentence;
Hoym must bring his wife here immediately, and introduce her at the
Queen's first ball."

"Write at once, Hoym! The King's courier will carry the letter to
Laubegast," said Fuerstenberg.

"Yes, write; write!" resounded from all sides.

Paper was laid before him in a moment, and Fuerstenberg put a pen into
his hand. The unfortunate Hoym, in whom the fear of the husband was
aroused, as often as he remembered the gallantry of the King, could not
tell how he ever wrote to his wife, commanding her to come to Dresden.
But in the twinkling of an eye, the paper was snatched from his hand,
and some one had rushed with it into the courtyard, and ordered the
King's courier to ride with it at once to Laubegast.

"Fuerstenberg," whispered Augustus, "I can see by Hoym's face that,
should he become sober to-day, he will send a counter order. We must
make him dead drunk."

"He is so drunk already, that I fear for his life!" returned the
Prince.

"I do not," replied Augustus quietly, "I hope I should be able to find
some one to fill the office that would become vacant by his death."

The smile with which the King accompanied this speech had such an
effect on those present, that they all crowded round Hoym, pouring wine
into his glass, and suggesting toasts, with the result, that within
half-an-hour Hoym fell asleep on the table, his face, pale as a corpse,
his head hanging, and his mouth open. For the sake of security, they
did not convey him home, but placed him instead in one of the King's
rooms, where he was watched over by the giant Cojanus, who received
orders not to let him return home, should he unexpectedly come to his
senses.

Having got rid of him, they continued their carouse.

The King was now in an excellent humour, and the radiance of his
countenance was reflected in the faces of his courtiers. Day was
already dawning when two lackeys carried Augustus the Strong to bed. He
had succumbed last of all, except Fuerstenberg, who, taking off his wig
to cool his head, grew thoughtful, and muttered to himself,--

"So we shall have a new ruler, then. Lubomirska meddled too much with
politics. She wished to subdue the king, but he does not require a
mistress with brains! She has to love him, and amuse him; that is all
her business. Now we shall see the Countess Hoym!"




                              CHAPTER II.


Laubegast is situated on the banks of the river Elbe, two hours' ride
from Dresden. It is a small village, containing only a few better-class
dwellings, and these are hidden from view among old linden trees, and
tall, black pines.

Count Hoym's villa was built in the French style, and ornamented as
well as its modest size permitted. It was evident that its owner
bestowed great care on the beauty of his house. The small courtyard was
surrounded by an iron railing. Seen through the sheltering trees, the
house looked like some lordly residence, but it was as quiet as a
monastery.

There were no signs of gaiety about it. Two old lackeys and a few
servants might be seen from time to time, walking near the house, and
occasionally, towards evening, a lady would come forth, on whom the
population of Laubegast would gaze with admiration, but always from
behind the shelter of the bushes.

In truth, no one in the neighbourhood had ever before seen such a
beautiful woman.

She was young, and tall, and a pair of bright, dark eyes gave animation
to her pale face. There was something majestic in her movement as she
walked. But she was sad, like a figure taken from a sarcophagus--she
never smiled. She had dwelt here for several years, visited by no one
save Hoym's sister, the Countess Vitzthum. It was thus that Count Hoym
guarded his wife from the intrigues of the court, and he did not even
like to see his sister too frequently visiting his wife's retreat. The
Countess Vitzthum, however, only shrugged her shoulders contemptuously.

The Countess Hoym's only distractions were the pious books of
Protestant dreamers, which she read with great avidity. Occasionally
she took a walk under the surveillance of the old butler.

Life here was monotonous, and quiet as the grave, but at the same time
passions never entered to cause disturbances. It was only when the King
and court were absent, that the Countess Hoym was permitted to visit
the capital for a short time. This long seclusion had made her proud,
sad, and bitter; she despised the world, and was full of strange
asceticisms. She thought that her life was ended, and that she was
awaiting death, although she was very beautiful, and not more than
twenty years of age; but all who saw her could scarcely believe she was
older than eighteen, so remarkably youthful was her appearance.

The Countess Vitzthum, who in the turbulent life of the court had lost
all her freshness and half her beauty, was provoked at the unfading
charms of her sister-in-law. She was also irritated by her other good
qualities; her noble pride of virtue; her indignation at corruption;
her contempt for intrigue and lying; and last, but not least, by the
majestic manner in which the Countess Hoym looked upon her lively,
laughing, and fickle sister-in-law.

Countess Hoym, on her side, did not like the Countess Vitzthum; she
felt an instinctive repulsion towards her. For her husband she had a
cold contempt, having learned through her sister-in-law that he had
been unfaithful to her. By one tender look, she could bring him to her
feet; she knew her power, but she had no wish to use it. He seemed to
her too villainous to care for. She received him coldly, and parted
from him with indifference. Hoym was furious, but he felt feeble in the
presence of his wife, and all quarrels were stopped by his taking his
departure.

Thus the sad monotonous life at Laubegast went on. Sometimes Anna
thought of returning to Holstein, and taking up her abode with her
family who dwelt at Brockdorf; but she was not on good terms with them.
Her father and mother were both dead, and her sister, the Countess of
Brunswick, _nee_ Holstein Ploen, would not have cared to see her at
court. She remembered only too well the behaviour of the sixteen-years
old Anna, who had slapped the face of Prince Ludwig Rudolf, when,
attracted by her marvellous beauty, he had tried to kiss her.

Thus it was that the beautiful but unfortunate Anna had no place to
which she could turn for comfort.

Notwithstanding the corruption of the court, and the nearness of
Dresden, in which it is difficult to hide such a beautiful being from
the gaze of the people, Anna had been so carefully concealed in her
retreat on the shores of the Elbe, that despite the continual movement
of the lazy gang surrounding the Sovereign, no one had noticed her.

Except one.

That one was a young Pole, who lived at the court, which he had been
forced to enter quite against his inclination.

The first time Augustus the Strong visited Poland after having been
elected King of that country, he wished to show his strength to the
Polish nobles. With this intent, he began one evening, after dinner, to
break horse-shoes and silver plates. The Poles regarded this as a bad
omen for their country, and one of them, wishing to break the spell,
said he knew a lad who could do the same. The King felt the sting
conveyed in the remark, still he expressed a wish to see his rival.
Thereupon the Bishop of Kujawy promised to produce the noble referred
to, who dwelt at Cracow. His name was Zaklika, and he came of a
powerful family, though at present he was very poor. Then the incident
was forgotten, and the Bishop would never have mentioned it, being
conscious that he had committed an indiscretion, had not the King
reminded him of it, and asked to see Raymond Zaklika.

The youth had just ended his studies at a Jesuit convent, and was
uncertain what he should do. His wish was to enter the army, but he had
no money with which to purchase a commission, and, being a noble, he
could not enter otherwise. After long searching, Zaklika was found. The
Bishop was obliged to purchase him a decent suit of clothes, before he
could present him to the King. Then he was kept ready to be brought
forward at the first favourable moment, for the King usually rose to
display his strength after he had feasted, and was in a good humour.

At length one day, when the King was breaking silver cups and
horse-shoes, which his courtiers always kept in readiness for him, he
turned to the Bishop, who was quietly looking on, and said,--

"Father, where is your Hercules?"

Zaklika was summoned.

The youth was straight as an oak, good-looking, and modest as a girl.
Augustus smiled on seeing him. He could only converse with him in
Latin, for as yet the youth knew neither French nor German. Still there
was no need for many words. Two new silver goblets stood before the
King; Augustus took one of them, and, pressing it between his fingers,
bent it as though it had been a leaf.

Smiling ironically, he pushed the other towards Zaklika, saying,--

"Now you try. If you can bend it, it is yours."

Timidly the youth approached the table, and, taking the bumper, he
pressed it so hard that the blood rushed to his head; but the cup was
broken in pieces.

The King's face was expressive of great astonishment, and still greater
discontent. The lords who sat round, tried to persuade him that the cup
was thin.

The King then turned to the horse-shoes--they broke beneath his fingers
like dry branches--but Zaklika could do the same with perfect ease.
Augustus took out a new thaler and broke it. A thicker piece of Spanish
money was handed Zaklika. For a while the youth remained thoughtful,
then he grew eager on the matter, and eagerness lending him fresh
strength he broke the coin.

A cloud rested on the King's forehead, and his court grew sorry that
such a trial had been permitted. To reward Zaklika, the King ordered
the two cups to be given him, then, after a moment's reflection, he
told the youth to remain at the court. A small post was assigned to
him, but the next morning he was told quietly never to dare to show his
strength in that way again, or some evil thing might befall him.

Thus he remained hanging about the court; a splendid livery was
provided for him; he was allowed a few hundred thalers by way of
salary, and plenty of liberty, his only duty being to follow the King
wherever he went. Augustus did not forget him, and gave orders that he
should be provided with every comfort, but he never spoke a word to
him. Having plenty of time at his command, Zaklika began to study
French and German, and within two years spoke both languages fluently.
Being unable to spend all his time in study, he used to wander about
Dresden, visiting all the adjoining villages and forests on foot. He
was also of a very inquisitive turn of mind, and climbed all over the
rocky shores of the Elbe, yet he never met with any accident.

During one of his rambles he visited Laubegast, and finding the shade
of the linden-trees very pleasant, lay down on the ground to rest.
Unfortunately for him, it was about the time when the Countess Hoym
used to take her walk. On seeing her the youth was petrified with
admiration--he could not breathe. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he must
be dreaming; that so lovely a being existed in the flesh, he could not
imagine. Poor fellow! Thus he sat until nightfall, gazing continually,
yet being unable to satisfy his eyes. He thought one look at the lovely
woman would have satisfied him, but the longer he looked, the more he
desired to gaze on her. In short, such passion and longing arose within
his breast, that every day he rushed to Laubegast like a madman; his
head was completely turned.

As he did not confide in any one, he could obtain no advice, nor learn
that the best cure for such an illness is to avoid the danger.

Soon the youth was so much in love that he grew pale and thin. The
Countess's servants having noticed him, and guessed what was the
matter, told their lady about him in jest. She also laughed, but
afterwards she looked on him in secret. It may be that she took pity on
the youth, for she ordered him to be brought before her, and having
scolded him severely for tramping round about her house, she forbade
him ever to show himself there again.

There being no one present at their interview, the youth grew bold, and
replied that he committed no sin in looking at her, that he did not
come for anything else, and that even should they stone him, he must
still continue to come, so great was his longing to see her.

Then the Countess grew angry, and threatened to complain to her
husband, but this threat likewise was without effect. For several weeks
she avoided the paths on which she was accustomed to see him, and,
changing the direction of her walks, wandered along the banks of the
Elbe, until one day she noticed Zaklika, standing up to his neck in the
river, so that he might be able to see her. In great wrath she summoned
the servants, but with one plunge Raymond had disappeared. For some
time after this she saw nothing of Zaklika, for he had found a new
hiding-place; thus all question about him ceased; and no one noticing
him at court, he acted just as he pleased.

Only once was he summoned before the King. In an access of rage,
Augustus the Strong had cut off a horse's head, and now that powerful
monarch desired to show that Zaklika was incapable of performing this
feat. An old, strong-boned horse was brought, but at the same time the
youth was given to understand that if he valued the King's favour, he
had better let the animal alone. But Raymond was so carried away by the
desire to show his strength that he cut off the horse's head as with a
razor. The King shrugged his shoulders, and drowned the memory of his
defeat in wine. No one looked at Zaklika, but those who were kindly
disposed towards the youth found opportunity to whisper to him that he
had better go away somewhere quietly, because on the slightest excuse
he would be sent to Koenigstein.

But Raymond was not in the least alarmed at their words, and continued
his excursions to Laubegast. His love had made quite a different man of
him. It is needless to say that Countess Anna Hoym never said anything
to any one about this young man.

At Laubegast the gates were always shut at dusk, and the dogs released
from their chains; the servants retired early, but the lady of the
house would sit reading until late into the night.

That same night, when they were all drinking at the castle, and the
wind was blowing keen and cold across the open fields, the beauteous
Anna, having undressed, sat reading the Bible, of which she was very
fond.

It was already far on into the night, when the tramping of horses' feet
was heard, and the dogs began to bark so terribly that the usually
fearless lady grew alarmed.

Robbers did not often attack houses in those times, especially near the
capital, still such things did happen occasionally. The Countess,
therefore, rang the bell, and aroused all the servants. Some one was
shaking the gate violently, and the barking of the dogs grew fiercer
and fiercer. The armed servants went to the gate, where they found the
King's messenger waiting impatiently, with a carriage drawn by six
horses. The dogs were chained up, the door opened, and the messenger
delivered the letter.

At first Anna thought some misfortune had occurred--she grew pale--but
recognizing her husband's handwriting, her calmness returned. At that
moment there recurred to her mind the sad fate of the Chancellor
Beichlingen, who one night fell into disgrace, and was sent to
Koenigstein. Count Hoym had frequently told her that he did not believe
in the King, and that he should never feel safe until he had crossed
the borders of his own principality.

When she had read her husband's letter, ordering her to come to Dresden
immediately, she was greatly surprised. She could not refuse to go, for
she did not wish to expose herself to the comments of the servants, and
besides she was drawn thither by curiosity. She therefore ordered the
necessary preparations to be made, and in less than an hour she had
left quiet Laubegast behind for ever.

But strange thoughts took possession of her during her journey. She was
afraid of something, and this made her so sad that she nearly wept. She
could form no idea of the danger which she felt was threatening her,
but she was afraid nevertheless. She knew that the King had returned,
after an absence of several years, and that with his return to Dresden,
the court was full of intrigues and races for favour, in which every
possible means, good or bad, were employed. Many of the things that
happened there, though apparently light and trivial, were, in reality,
tragic.

At the very moment when those who were sacrificed were thrown into dark
and terrible prisons, lively music was being played at the ball given
in honour of those who had been victorious. Often and often Anna had
gazed on the mountain of Koenigstein, so full of mysteries and of
victims.

The night was dark, but the carriage, which was preceded by two men on
horseback, carrying torches, rolled swiftly on its way. She scarcely
noticed when it stopped before her husband's mansion, which was
situated in Pirna Street. Although the Count was expected, the servants
were all asleep, and it was impossible to awake them immediately. No
apartment had been prepared for the Countess, and she shuddered at the
thought of being obliged to enter her husband's room.

The office of the Secretary to the Treasury adjoined the large hall,
which, although richly furnished, looked gloomy and sad. On finding
that her husband was from home, the Countess's astonishment increased
still more, but the servants explained that this was the King's night,
and that the entertainment was usually continued until daybreak. Being
obliged to remain and rest, the Countess chose a room situated at the
opposite side of the office, and separated from all the other
apartments. In this she ordered a camp-bed to be placed, and having
shut herself in with a servant as companion, she tried to sleep. But
the beautiful Countess sought sleep in vain; she only dozed, waking up
at the slightest sound.

The day was already bright, when, having fallen asleep for a few
moments, she was aroused by hearing footsteps in the office. Thinking
it was her husband, she rose and dressed.

The morning toilet she put on only made her appear the more beautiful,
while fatigue, uneasiness, and fever increased her charms. She entered
the office, but instead of meeting her husband as she expected, she
perceived a stranger, whose bearing, combined with the expression of
his features, made a deep impression on her.

The man was attired in the long, black dress of a Protestant minister.
He was no longer young; he had a massive head, and deeply sunk, dark
grey eyes. His mouth wore a bitter smile, in which quiet contempt for
the world was curiously blended with serenity and gravity, and this
gave to his face an expression so striking that it was impossible to
help gazing at him attentively.

The Countess looked on him in astonishment, but he, as though alarmed
at the apparition of a woman, stood silent and motionless, with
widely-opened eyes, in which could be clearly seen involuntary
admiration for this marvellous masterpiece of God.

Thus he stood, his lips trembling, and his arms raised in silent
surprise.

The two strangers looked at each other, examining one another
attentively. The man retreated slowly. The Countess looked round for
her husband. She had just made up her mind to retire, when the stranger
inquired,--

"Who are you?"

"It is rather I who should ask who you are, and what you are doing in
my house?"

"In your house?" repeated the man in surprise. "Then are you the
Count's wife?"

Anna bowed. The old man gazed on her with eyes full of pity, and two
large tears rolled slowly down his dried and yellow cheeks.

On her side Anna regarded him with extreme curiosity. This unassuming
man, broken by the cares and hardships of life, seemed to be animated
by some unknown sentiment; he became grave and majestic. In his
presence that proud lady felt almost humble. The features of the silent
old man glowed with a secret inspiration. Suddenly coming to his
senses, he glanced round timidly, and then advanced a step.

"Oh, you!" he exclaimed, "whom God has created for His glory, you
beautiful vase of virtue, a being full of light, and like unto an angel
in purity, why do you not shake from off your shoes the dust that now
clings to them from their contact with this unclean Babylon? Why, oh
why, do you not flee from this place of corruption? Who was so perverse
as to cast such a beautiful child into this sordid world? Why are you
not afraid? Are you not aware of your peril?"

Anna listened to the old man, whose voice intimidated her for the first
time in her life. She was indignant at such daring on the part of the
minister, but she could not feel angry with him.

Without giving her time to reply, he continued:

"Do you know where you are? Are you aware that the ground on which you
stand shakes beneath your feet? Do you realize that these walls open;
that people disappear if they prove an obstruction; and that here human
life is a thing of nought, when it interferes with a single drop of
pleasure?"

"What fearful things you are telling me," exclaimed the Countess at
length, "why do you wish to terrify me?"

"Because I see that you are innocent and pure, and that you know not
what you may expect here. You cannot have been here long."

"Only a few hours," replied the Countess.

"And you did not spend your childhood here, or you could not look as
you do now," continued the old man.

"My childhood was spent at Holstein; I have been Count Hoym's wife for
several years, but I have lived in the country."

"Then I suppose you do not know much about your husband?" said the old
man, shivering. "I pity you, for you are beautiful and innocent as a
lily, and now a herd of savage beasts are going to trample on you.
'Twere better had you bloomed and shed forth your perfume in God's
desert."

He became silent and thoughtful. Anna moved a few steps nearer to him.

"Who are you?" she inquired.

The old man appeared not to hear her, so she repeated her question.

"Who am I?" he repeated. "I am a sinner; a wretched being, the
laughing-stock of all. I am the voice crying in the wilderness. I am he
who predicts downfall, annihilation, and days of misery. Who am I? I am
God's messenger, sent to point out to His people the path of virtue,
but to whom none will hearken. I am an outcast to the rich--I am
despised--but I am true and pure in the sight of the Lord."

The last words were spoken quietly, then he became silent.

"How strange it all is!" said the Countess. "After years of
tranquillity, passed in the country, I am summoned here by my husband,
and here I meet you, who are to me as a voice of warning. Surely in
this there must be the finger of God!"

"Yes, verily!" rejoined the old man, "and woe to those who heed not
God's warning. You ask who I am. I am a poor preacher, I have spoken
against powerful lords, and therefore their vengeance pursues me. My
name is Schramm. Count Hoym knew me when I was a mere lad, and I have
come here to ask his protection, for my life is threatened. This is the
reason I am here; but who brought you hither?"

"My husband," replied Anna briefly.

"Ask him to let you go away," he whispered, looking timidly round as he
spoke. "I have seen all the beauties of the court, and, taken all
together, they cannot compare with you in beauty. Woe be to you if
you remain here. They will entangle you in a net of intrigues; they
will intoxicate you with songs; they will still your conscience with
fairy-tales; they will accustom you to shame. Then one day,
intoxicated, weary, feeble, you will fall over the precipice."

Anna Hoym frowned.

"Never!" she exclaimed. "I am not so feeble as you think. I am aware
that I am surrounded by peril, but I have no desire for a life of
luxury. No, the life of the court has no attractions for me. I despise
it!"

"You must not trust in your own strength; flee, flee from this hell!"

As he spoke, he stretched out his arms, as though he would have liked
to drive her away. But Anna stood motionless, and smiled scornfully.

"But where could I go?" she inquired. "My fate is bound up with that of
my husband. I cannot break the ties that unite me to him. I am a
fatalist. I believe what will happen will happen--only never will they
be able to conquer me. It is rather I who shall rule over them."

Schramm looked frightened; Anna stood before him full of strength and
pride, the smile still on her lips.

At that moment the door opened, and there entered, confused and
hesitating, Count Adolf Magnus Hoym.

He never looked very attractive amid the elegant company of the King's
favourites, but after a night spent in revelry, his appearance was
still worse. There was nothing noble in his features, and his face,
which was commonplace, was only remarkable for the quick, convulsive
changes it underwent. His grey eyes were either hidden beneath his
bushy eyebrows, or glowing with fire and animation; his lips were now
smiling, now contorted; now his forehead frowned, but the next moment
it was clear and unruffled. It seemed as though some secret power were
continually struggling within him, and changing the expression of his
features.

Even at the moment when he perceived his wife, it seemed as though some
hidden influence were at work within him, giving rise to the most
contradictory feelings. First he smiled at her, but the next moment his
anger seemed about to break forth. With a violent effort, however, he
controlled himself, and entered the room. But on perceiving Schramm,
his eyebrows contracted, anger was clearly visible on his face.

"You madman, you fanatic, you clown!" he shouted, without waiting to
speak a word to his wife. "You have been doing some fresh mischief, and
again you come to me to help you out of your difficulty. But I cannot
help you. You act as you please. You think that a minister may do
anything; and that you can declare what you call God's message to every
one. You fancy you can play the part of an apostle. But I tell you
again, as I have told you a hundred times already, that I cannot help
you."

The minister stood motionless, gazing into the Count's eyes.

"But I am God's servant," he rejoined. "I have sworn to bear witness to
the truth, and if they desire to make a martyr of me, I am ready."

"A martyr!" laughed Hoym, "that would be too great a favour, they will
kick you out, that is all!"

"Then I shall go," said Schramm, "but so long as I am in Dresden I
shall speak the truth."

"And you will preach to deaf people," retorted the Count sarcastically,
shrugging his shoulders as he spoke. "But enough of this, do what you
please, I should be glad if I could protect myself. I told you to keep
quiet. In these times you must flatter or you will be trampled on, and
perish. Sodom and Gomorrah indeed! Good-bye, I have no more time."

Schramm bowed without a word, cast a pitying glance on Hoym's wife, and
then, after gazing on the Count for a moment in silent surprise, he
turned to leave the room.

Hoym pitied him.

"I am sorry for you; go! I will do my best to help you; but read your
Bible and say nothing. This is the last time I shall advise you."

Schramm went, and husband and wife were left alone.




                              CHAPTER III.


Even now Hoym did not greet his wife, evidently he was at a loss what
to say, and was in consequence embarrassed and angry. Seizing his wig,
he began to pull at it.

"Why did you summon me so hastily?" said the Countess proudly, with
reproach in her tones.

"Why?" exclaimed Hoym, raising his eyes, and rushing to and fro across
the room like a madman. "Why? Because I was crazy! Because those
scoundrels made me drunk! Because I did not know what I was doing!
Because I am an idiot and an ass!"

"Then I can return?" asked Anna.

"You cannot return from hell!" shouted Hoym. "And thanks to me you are
now in hell!"

He tore open his waistcoat as he spoke, and sank into a chair.

"Yes," he continued, "I shall go mad! but I cannot make war against the
King!"

"What do you mean?"

"The King, Fuerstenberg, Vitzthum, all of them, my own sister too, for
aught I know to the contrary, all have conspired against me. They have
learned that you are beautiful; that I am an idiot; and the King has
ordered me to show you to him."

"Who told them about me?" inquired the Countess quietly.

Hoym was silent, he could not say that he himself had done it; he
gnashed his teeth, and sprang from the chair. Suddenly his anger
changed to cool and biting irony.

"Let us talk reasonably," said he, lowering his voice. "I cannot undo
what is done. I asked you to come here because it was the King's wish,
and you know that Jupiter launches his thunderbolts at anyone who
thwarts his will. Everything and everybody must contribute to his
amusement--he tramples other persons' treasures beneath his feet, and
then casts them on the dung-hill!"

Again he began his walk up and down the room.

"I have laid a wager with the Count von Fuerstenberg that you are more
beautiful than all the ladies at the court. Was I not an idiot? I allow
you to answer me that. The King is to be the judge, and I shall win the
thousand ducats."

Anna frowned, and turned from him in the greatest contempt.

"You villain!" she exclaimed angrily. "First you keep me shut up like a
slave, and now you bring me forward like an actress on the stage, to
help you to win your wager, by the brightness of my eyes and the smiles
of my lips. Could any one conceive deeper infamy?"

"Do not spare me; you may say what you please," said Hoym, full of
grief and remorse. "I deserve everything you can say. I possessed the
most beautiful woman in the whole land; she smiled only for me. I was
proud and happy. Then the devil made me drown my common sense in a few
cups of wine."

He wrung his hands.

"I am going home," said the Countess. "I shall not remain here; I
should be ashamed. Order my carriage!"

She moved towards the door; Hoym smiled bitterly.

"Your carriage!" he repeated. "You do not realize where you are. You are
almost a prisoner, you cannot leave this house. I should not be
surprised to find that guards had been placed before the door. Even
should you succeed in escaping, the dragoons would pursue and bring you
back. No one would dare to help you."

The Countess wrung her hands in despair. Hoym looked at her with
mingled feelings of jealousy, grief, meanness, and sorrow.

"Listen to me," said he, touching her hand, "perhaps it is not so bad as
I think. Those who wish to perish, can easily perish here. But you, if
you like, need not look beautiful; you might look severe, forbidding;
you might even look repulsive, and thus save yourself and me."

Here he lowered his voice.

"You know our King," continued he, with a strange smile; "he is a most
munificent lord, he scatters broadcast the gold I am compelled to
extort from his poor subjects. There is not a monarch more munificent
than he, but at the same time there is not a monarch who requires such
continual pleasures. He breaks horse-shoes, and he breaks women; then
he casts them both away. The friend he embraces to-day, he imprisons
to-morrow in Koenigstein. He is a good King! He smiles until the last
moment on the victims he is sending to the scaffold. He has a
compassionate heart, but no one must oppose him."

He dropped his voice still lower, looking round the room suspiciously.

"He likes new mistresses: like the dragon in the fairy tale, he lives
on the maidens brought him by the frightened population; he destroys
them. Who can count the number of his victims? You may perhaps have
heard the names of some of them, but the number of those who are
unknown is three times greater than the number of those whose names are
recorded. The King is a man of strange taste; for two days he is in
love with the lady dressed in silks; then tiring of her he is ready to
love the woman in rags. Koenigsmark is still beautiful; Spiegel is by no
means plain; Princess Teschen still enjoys his favours; but he is tired
of them all. Again he is seeking whom he may devour! Ah! he is a great
lord! He is beautiful as Apollo, strong as Hercules, lecherous as a
Satyr, and terrible as Jupiter."

"Why are you telling me all this?" exclaimed Anna angrily. "Do you
think I am so wicked, that at the King's desire I should forsake the
path of honour? It is plain you do not yet know me! You insult me!"

Hoym looked on her with compassion.

"I know my Anna," replied he, "but I also know the court, the King, and
the people who surround him."

"I have sworn to be faithful to you, and that is sufficient," she
retorted proudly. "You do not possess my heart, it is true, but you have
my word. Women such as I do not break their vows."

"The Princess Teschen is proud!"

Anna shrugged her shoulders contemptuously.

"I can be a wife," exclaimed she, "but I could x never be a mistress. I
could not endure that such shame should rest upon my brow."

"Shame!" repeated Hoym. "It only burns for a time; the wound soon
heals, although the scar remains for ever."

"You are disgusting!" interrupted the Countess angrily. "You have
brought me here, and now you insult me with your vile insinuations."

Emotion checked her utterance; and Hoym said humbly,--

"Forgive me, I have lost my reason. I know not what I am saying.
To-morrow has been appointed for the court ball. The King has commanded
me to attend with you; you will be presented to him. It seems to me,"
added he softly, "that you can do anything you wish--you can even not
look beautiful. I am willing to lose my wager."

Anna turned away contemptuously.

"You ask me to act a comedy to save your honour!" said she, with a
sarcastic smile, "but I hate falsehood. Your honour is not at stake.
Anna Countess von Brockdorf does not belong to the class of women who
can be purchased for a handful of diamonds. Not a word more. I despise
you all. I shall not be present at the ball!"

Hoym grew pale.

"You must be present," said he, in an agitated voice. "This is not a
question of a childish fancy; my head and wealth are at stake. The King
has issued his commands."

"I do not care!" retorted Anna.

"You intend to disobey the King?" inquired Hoym.

"Why not? He rules over everything, I know, but he does not rule over
family life. What can he do to me?"

"Nothing to you," replied Hoym, uneasily. "He is only too polite to
beautiful women, but he will send me to Koenigstein, and confiscate our
estates. Misery and death threaten us!"

He covered his face with his hands.

"You do not know him," he whispered. "He beams and smiles like Apollo,
but all the time he is terrible as the god of thunderbolts. He has
never yet forgiven any one who doubted that he was all-powerful. You
must be present at the ball, or I shall perish!"

"Do you think, then, that the threat of your peril is so terrible to
me?"

She shrugged her shoulders and walked towards the window.

Hoym followed her, pale as a ghost.

"For God's sake listen to reason!" he exclaimed, "You cannot intend
disobeying the King's commands."

He had scarcely finished speaking, when there was a tap at the door,
and a lackey entered. Hoym frowned.

"The Countesses Reuss and Vitzthum," announced the servant.

Hoym rushed towards the door, and was just about to send the lackey
with a message that he could not receive any one, when he beheld the
beautiful Countess Reuss, and, behind her, his own sister.

He had thought that as yet no one knew of his wife's arrival, but the
visit of these two ladies convinced him that the folly he had committed
when drunk had already made him the laughing-stock of the town.

Much confused, he ordered the servant to leave the room.

Countess Reuss, fresh and pretty, although a little too plump, and with
a charming smile lighting up her features, had nothing terrible in her
appearance, yet, looking at her, Count Hoym grew still more confused,
as though some fresh misfortune threatened him through her.

Countess Vitzthum easily read her brother's feelings in his eyes, yet
despite the Count's evident embarrassment, the two ladies continued
smiling pleasantly.

"Hoym!" said Countess Reuss, in her sweet, melodious voice, "I really
ought to be angry with you. Here is your wife come to Dresden, and you
never told me a word about it. I learned it from Hulchen by a pure
accident."

"What?" exclaimed the Count impatiently. "Even Hulchen knows of it
already?"

"Oh, yes! She and every one are talking of it. They say that at length
you have shown some common sense, and that your wife will no longer be
condemned to wither away in the desert."

She approached the Countess as she spoke, looking at her inquisitively.

"How are you, my dear Countess?" said she, shaking hands with her. "How
delighted I am to welcome you here in your proper place. I am your
first visitor, but, believe me, it is not curiosity that has prompted
this visit, but an earnest desire to serve you. To-morrow you will
appear at the Queen's ball, my beautiful hermit. You do not know
Dresden; I entreat you command my service. Your sister-in-law and I
have been uneasy about you. Poor frightened birdie."

During this speech, the lady whom the Countess Reuss had called a
frightened bird had stood proud and erect, looking just as though she
had ruled in this mansion for years past.

"I thank you!" she replied coldly. "My husband has just told me of the
ball. But is my presence necessary? Can I not be taken ill from emotion
that so great a favour has been shown me?"

"I should not advise you to make any such pretext," replied Countess
Reuss, whom Hoym was leading to the gloomy reception room. "No one
would believe that you were ill, for you look exactly like Juno, full
of health and strength; and no one would believe that you were
frightened either, for you are perfectly fearless."

Countess Vitzthum took her sister's arm, and taking advantage of the
moment when her brother could not hear what she said, whispered,--

"Dear Anna! there is no reason for you to fear, or to excuse yourself;
now at last your captivity is at an end. You shall see the court, the
King, and all our splendour, which is unrivalled throughout the whole
of Europe. I congratulate you. I am convinced that a most splendid
future awaits you."

"I had become so accustomed to my life of tranquillity," replied the
Countess, "that I desired nothing different."

"Hoym," continued Countess Vitzthum, "will be consumed with jealousy."
Then she laughed.

The three ladies and the confused Secretary to the Treasury were still
standing in the reception room, when the lackey summoned Count Hoym
from the apartment. As soon as he had gone, Countess Reuss seated
herself, and addressing her beautiful hostess, said,--

"My dear, it is such a pleasure to me to be the first to welcome you at
the commencement of your new life. Believe me, I can be useful to you.
Hoym most unwillingly gave you this opportunity, which if rightly used,
will carry you very high indeed. You are beautiful as an angel."

Countess Hoym was silent for a moment, then she replied coldly,--

"You are mistaken, dear Countess, in thinking I am ambitious. The
foolish years of my life are long past. Whilst living in my quiet
country home, I was obliged to think much both about myself and the
world, and now my only wish is to return to the country, and continue
my study of the Bible."

Countess Reuss laughed.

"Everything will be changed now," said she. "At present let us talk
about your gown for to-morrow's ball. Vitzthum, you and I must advise
her what to wear; she will not do her beauty justice if left to
herself. You must take care of the honour of your brother's house."

"She will be the prettiest person there, no matter how she dresses,"
replied Countess Vitzthum. "Teschen cannot be compared to her--she is
withered. There is not another woman at court that can be compared to
Anna. In my opinion, the more modest the gown is, the more becoming it
will be to her; let others have recourse to artifices."

The conversation about silk and stuff that followed became both
animated and polemical. At first Countess Hoym took no part in it, but
sat listening to the two friends, who, however, were very careful not
to arouse her suspicions. But little by little, she was drawn by that
magnetic attraction that dress always exercises over the mind of every
woman. She said a word or two, and soon their conversation, mingled
with laughter, flowed on smoothly and swiftly.

Countess Reuss listened attentively to every word her hostess uttered,
regarding her all the time with a strange uneasiness; from time to time
she questioned her, hoping to discover some hidden meaning in her
replies. Countess Hoym soon forgot her irritation, and becoming
animated, laughed, uttered witticisms suited to her age, and kept up an
easy flow of conversation that sparkled with intelligence. Countess
Reuss laughed.

"Anna!" she exclaimed, "you are charming! Enchanting! Incomparable!
To-morrow evening you will have the whole court at your feet. Hoym will
have to see that his pistols are in readiness. Teschen will be taken
ill; she will faint--she has a penchant for fainting, it is such an
opportunity for displaying her charms!"

Countess Vitzthum laughed. Then Countess Reuss went on to relate how
the Princess Lubomirska had captivated the King's heart by fainting
when he fell from his horse. They both fainted, for the King, having
been severely wounded, lost consciousness. Her awakening was charming,
for when she opened her eyes, Augustus was kneeling at her feet.

"But alas!" added Countess Reuss, "to-day, even though she should
faint, the King would no longer be pleased with her. His first rapture
is over. At Leipzic fair, he amused himself with some French actresses.
But worse than that, they say he fell madly in love with the Princess
Anhalt-Dessau, but that he was disappointed by her coldness. He has
told Fuerstenberg that his heart is free, and that he is ready to offer
it to some other beauty."

"I hope, my dear Countess," said Anna proudly, "that you do not compare
me with French actresses. The King's heart is not a very attractive
present, and mine is of more value than to be satisfied with the
remnants of a heart formerly the property of the Princess Teschen."

Countess Reuss blushed.

"Be quiet, child," said she, looking round; "who has said anything of
the kind? We prattle about everything, and it will do you no harm to be
prepared for any emergency. We will send you our dressmaker, and if you
have not brought your diamonds, or should you require others, Mayer
will lend you, secretly, anything you want."

With this both ladies rose, and began to take leave of their hostess,
who conducted them, in silence, to the door. Hoym was already busy in
his office.

After entering the Countess Reuss's carriage, both ladies remained for
a time silent and thoughtful. The Countess Vitzthum was the first to
speak.

"What do you prophesy?" she asked.

"Hoym can consider himself a widower," replied her companion, in a
whisper. "She is proud, and for a long while will resist the good
fortune offered her, but there is nothing that makes the King more
enthusiastic than resistance. She is beautiful, daring, witty, and
quaint; and all these are qualities that not only attract, they also
bind. We must manage to be on the best of terms with her now; later,
when she has taken hold of the reins, it will be too late. I will help
you, and you must help me. Through her we shall hold the King, the
secretaries, everybody, and everything. Teschen is lost, and I am glad
of it, for I could never get anything from that tedious, sentimental
Princess. Besides she has got quite enough; her son is recognized, she
has obtained a title; she is enormously rich; she has ruled us too long
already. The King is tired of her, and now, more than ever, he requires
consolation and distraction. Fuerstenberg, you and I must overthrow that
stranger. Only we must be wary, for Anna will not allow herself to be
taken by storm--she is too proud."

"Poor Hoym!" laughed Countess Vitzthum. "But if only he had some
sense--"

"He would profit by her," interposed Countess Reuss. "He did not love
her any longer, the old libertine, and he himself prepared the drama of
which he will be the victim."

"I distrust Fuerstenberg."

Countess Reuss looked at her inquisitively, and a spark of irony
glittered in her eyes; she shrugged her shoulders.

"There are some people who are predestined!" said she sneeringly.

Suddenly she began to laugh.

"Do you know," she continued, "she should wear an orange dress, and
coral ornaments. She has black hair, and the fresh complexion of a
child. Such a costume would be most becoming to her. Did you notice
what fire she has in her eyes?"

"And how proud she unfortunately is!" said Countess Vitzthum.

"Let her once see the King," rejoined Countess Reuss; "let Augustus
once wish to please her, and I warrant she will soon lose her pride."




                              CHAPTER IV.


In Pirna Street, which in times of yore was the most elegant street in
the small walled city of Dresden, stood Beichling House, once the
residence of the unfortunate Chancellor, who was now a prisoner at
Koenigstein. Princess Lubomirska, _nee_ Bohun, divorced from her
husband, the master of the pantry at Lithuania, and beloved by Augustus
II., who, after the birth of her son, the famous Chevalier de Saxe,[1]
had created her Princess Teschen, had received Beichling House as a
reward for the overthrow of the Chancellor, in which she had greatly
assisted. And it was in this palace that she always resided, when not
living on her estates at Hoyerswerd. But now a change had come. Those
first years of passionate love and knightly gallantry, when the
beautiful King could not live for a single day without his dear Ursula,
and when the charming Princess, then but twenty years of age, galloped
forth impatiently to meet her royal lover, were gone; those happy times
passed in Warsaw, in travelling through Germany, in splendid balls at
Dresden and Leipzic, seemed to have departed for ever.


[Illustration: The Princess Teschen]


Ever since that ball at Leipzic, when, to punish the gallantry of
Augustus II., who was paying court to the Princess Anhalt-Dessau, the
merciless Queen of Prussia, Sophia Caroline, had assembled that
monarch's three ex-mistresses, Aurora Koenigsmark, the Countess Esterle,
and Frau Haugwitz, in order to confuse him and Princess Teschen--ever
since that ball, although it had ended in the most tender assurances of
constancy on the part of the King, Princess Teschen had felt uneasy.
She was always thinking that she too might be abandoned by the
inconstant Augustin.[2] It was true that, despite his secret love
affairs, the King always showed great respect and affection for
Princess Teschen. She had considerable influence over him, and was very
skilful in leading him with golden reins, held by a slender white hand,
but still she felt that the King might abandon her at any moment.

Her mirror told her that she still preserved that beauty and freshness
of which she took such care; but that beauty and freshness no longer
possessed the charm of novelty for the King, and he easily grew weary,
and always required something new and fresh to distract him. He enjoyed
the conversation of the beautiful Princess; he liked her cleverness in
court intrigues, her policy covered by a veil of womanly frivolity, her
perfumed perversity, and the skilful manner in which she used the
entangled intrigues of others for her own benefit. Augustus used still
to visit her for a couple of hours, or more, but had the Queen asked
her to-day, as she had on a former occasion, when she intended to leave
Dresden, she could not, as she had done then, reply boldly, that as she
had come with the King, so would she leave with him. Thus her beautiful
blue eyes were veiled by a cloud of sadness, but the softness in those
eyes, so full of melancholy, was misleading, for the Princess possessed
an iron perseverance when endeavouring to attain a desired object. From
day to day her uneasiness increased, she feared every moment to receive
an order to leave Dresden, and such an order would separate her from
the King for ever.

Outwardly all was still unchanged, she was still respected at court,
but she read her approaching downfall in the eyes of the courtiers, and
from time to time she noticed ironical smiles, and malicious glances
cast in her direction.

The Princess loved Augustus, she loved him passionately, and she had
even thought that the volatile King would settle down, and that she
would one day become Queen, but these illusions had vanished. She felt
now that she was bound to meet the same fate as her lord's former
favourites. Disenchanted and disappointed, she occasionally recovered
her former gaiety and coquettishness when she desired to please the
King, but when in her palace she wept secretly, and promised herself
revenge. Letters were now despatched to Radziejowski, Primate of
Poland, more frequently than ever. The King, however, was aware of the
peril of incurring the Princess's wrath, as she was niece to the first
dignitary of the Republic, and he made every effort to persuade her of
his continued attachment. But in the meantime she was surrounded by
spies, for the King feared her vengeance, even before he had deserved
it.

The love of Augustus II. had changed to pure gallantry, its chill could
be felt. Princess Teschen still occupied the first place at court,
after the Queen; but in the King's heart she was placed on the same
level as Her Majesty. The King was indifferent to her.

Her dreams of eternal love had passed like spring clouds--nothing now
remained to her but offended pride.

When Princess Lubomirska left her family, visions of the crown had
floated before her eyes--but these visions had disappeared, and there
remained only the shame of unrealized calculation; the disgraceful
situation of a woman without husband or home; a woman paid for
momentary transports of love with titles, estates, and gold. The hour
of her triumph had been short and fleeting, but the shame would endure
for ever.

The Princess Lubomirska could not thus return to Poland.

Poor woman, she was afraid of being abandoned, and hurled headlong from
that height on which she now stood hesitating, and wondering what
course she should pursue. She was very weary, and she was right in
calling herself unhappy, even before she was so in reality.

The palace in Pirna Street was, as usual, full of courtiers, beautiful
ladies, and gallant cavaliers. The King especially favoured the latter,
for he hoped that one among them might take off his hands that heart
which now oppressed him by its too lachrymose affection.

The Princess's tears made Augustus the Strong very impatient, he never
wept himself, and greatly disliked to see her weep. Moreover, it
annoyed him that where he came seeking for distraction, he met with
nothing but endless reproaches.

The Princess also employed her spies. She knew the King's every
movement, and every word he uttered was reported to her. She spied on
him jealously. She knew all the details of that orgie at which Hoym had
first been made drunk, and then compelled to send to Laubegast for his
beautiful wife. And now, uneasy and feverish, she was wondering whether
she should accept the challenge, and go to the Queen's ball, or whether
she should contemptuously ignore the gauntlet that had been thrown to
her.

Towards eleven o'clock in the morning she was informed that the
Countess Hoym had arrived. No one had seen her as yet; none knew her;
none could describe her. All agreed, however, that she was beautiful,
that she was born in 1680, and that she was therefore the same age as
Princess Lubomirska; but none could predict the amount of danger to be
expected from her beauty.

All kinds of stories were repeated. Pitiless Kyan was reported to have
said, "It is no matter whether she is beautiful; it will be sufficient
if she is unlike the Princess."

And Princess Teschen was only too well aware that the Countess's beauty
would not be the principal consideration with the King; it would be the
pleasure of a new sensation.

She had fewer visitors than usual this morning, for all were busy
rushing hither and thither through the city, carrying and gathering the
news.

Some said that the King, according to his usual custom when he cared
about the splendour of a ball, was carefully preparing the programme
himself, and that he was already very impatient for the result of the
wager between Fuerstenberg and Hoym. Others said that Fraulein Hulchen
and Countess Reuss were intriguing together, their object being to
entangle Countess Hoym in their nets, and thus assure themselves of her
favour.

Countess Vitzthum assured every one that her sister-in-law's beauty
would eclipse that of all the court beauties.

The Princess sent out for tidings, received the reports of those who
still remained faithful to her, wept, and gave herself up to despair.
Thrice had she succeeded in retaining her hold over the King when he
had wished to break with her, but now it seemed as though her last hour
had really come. She wrung her hands--suddenly a strange thought took
possession of her mind--she glanced at the clock. Hoym's house was not
far distant. She whispered something to her attendant, then, muffling
her face in a thick veil, she quietly descended the stairs, and entered
the vestibule. A litter was in readiness, she entered it, then, instead
of carrying her through the street, the two bearers, to whom the
servant had given whispered instructions, went along in the rear of the
gardens. A door in Hoym's garden was opened by some one, the Princess
alighted from her litter, and, after a hasty glance around her, hurried
up the stairs, and entered the Count's house. A young man in the
antechamber opened the door to her, Lubomirska hastened down a dark
corridor, and rapped at a door that had been pointed out to her.

She had to wait some time before it was opened, and even then it seemed
as though the servant who opened only wished to see who was outside,
for she would not have allowed the Princess to enter, had not that lady
placed a few ducats in her hand. Then Princess Teschen pushed open the
door, and entered.

Anna Hoym was walking across the room, at the moment the veiled lady
appeared on the threshold. Surprised at the sight of an unexpected
visitor, she drew back with an angry frown.

Pulling off her veil, Lubomirska gazed inquisitively at the Countess;
then her lips trembled, she grew deadly pale, staggered and fainted.

Anna and the servant hastened to her assistance, and between them they
raised the unconscious lady.

Her swoon, however, did not last long. Suddenly she sprang up like a
madwoman, and gazed on her rival with dilated eyes; then she silently
made a sign that she desired the servant to leave the room.

The two ladies were accordingly left alone.

This strange occurrence filled Countess Hoym with uneasiness. After
long years spent in the quiet of the country, the new and feverish life
that had now begun for her startled and surprised her.

Lubomirska extended her white, cold, trembling hand towards the
Countess.

"Forgive me," she said, in feeble tones, "I wanted to see and warn you.
The voice of duty compelled me to come hither."

Anna remained silent, gazing curiously at her extraordinary visitor.

"Yes, look at me!" continued the Princess. "You are beginning the life
which for me is ended. Once I was as you are, innocent, happy, quiet,
and respected, living at peace with my conscience and my God. I had my
husband's princely title, and, better than all, I had an unsullied
name. Then there came a crowned monarch, and he took all this from me
with his smile. His sceptre and crown he laid at my feet; he gave me
his heart. I followed him. Look at me. To-day I have nothing. The name
I have is borrowed, my heart is broken, my happiness is gone for ever;
instead, the mark of shame is on my forehead; my soul is full of
bitterness, the future is dark and threatening, and I am tormented with
cares for my child. I have no one in this world to whom I can turn. My
relations would disown me; those who yesterday crawled at my feet, will
forget me to-morrow. He! He! will push me aside like a stranger."

Anna blushed.

"Madam!" she exclaimed. "Why do you foresee a danger for me that I
cannot see myself? I do not understand your words. Who are you?"

"Yesterday, I was almost a Queen, but I know not what I am to-day,"
replied the Princess.

"But I do not wish for any crown," said Anna, "there is not one that
does not burn the forehead. Why do you apply these threats to me?"

"Warnings, not threats," interrupted Lubomirska. "Forgive me, a crown
is approaching your brow, the people have given it you in advance. I
desire to show you its thorns."

"You are mistaken," replied the Countess calmly. "I shall not stretch
forth my hands for any crown. I am too proud. Be calm."

Teschen sank on the sofa, her head drooped, and she began to weep. Her
heart-breaking sobs aroused Countess Hoym's pity, and she approached
her sympathetically.

"Everything that has happened to me to-day is so mysterious," said she.
"Who are you?"

"Teschen," murmured the Princess softly, raising her eyes as she spoke.
"You have heard of me, and you can guess why they have brought you
here. A fresh face is necessary for their weary lord."

Anna uttered an indignant cry.

"Villains!" exclaimed she. "Then they would traffic with us, as though
we were slaves--and we--"

"We are their victims."

"No! I will never be their victim," interrupted the Countess; "I am so
proud that I would endure any misery, rather than surfer such
humiliation."

Teschen looked at her, and sighed.

"If it is not you, it will be another," she replied. "My hour has come.
But if you are strong enough, I beseech you, avenge us all. Spurn him.
Show him the contempt you feel for him. His actions cry to God for
vengeance."

She replaced her veil, shook hands silently, then with the hasty
exclamation, "You are warned, defend yourself!" she hurried from the
room, leaving the Countess speechless.

Before she had recovered herself, the Princess had disappeared.

The same man who admitted her was waiting on the stairs. She re-entered
her litter, and, whilst drawing the curtains, noticed a young officer
with a pale face looking anxiously into her eyes.

The young man's features were noble, aristocratic, and expressive of
courage and energy, but at that moment they were distorted by grief and
indignation. He seemed unable to believe his eyes. He approached the
litter.

"Princess Ursula!" said he, in a voice broken by emotion, "can I
believe my eyes? I beseech you, tell me the whole truth, then I will
mount my steed, ride away, and never return. Princess! I am mad with
love, while you--"

"It is quite true that you are mad," said the Princess brusquely, "and
you are blind as well, or you would see that I am coming from Hoym's
house, and with him I could not possibly be in love."

She grasped his hand.

"Come with me, I will not release you until I have explained
everything. I do not wish you to accuse me unjustly--that would be too
much! I could not survive that!"

The Princess, her beautiful eyes full of tears, looked so eloquently at
the young man, as she uttered these words, that all traces of sorrow
disappeared from his face.

Obedient to her commands, he followed the litter; when it stopped, he
helped her to alight, and together they entered the palace. Tired and
broken in spirit, the Princess sank on the sofa, and motioned to the
young man to seat himself by her side.

"Prince, you behold me angry and indignant. I have just returned from
visiting her whom my horrible enemies have brought here, that the King
may have the distraction of a new face; whom they have brought here to
drive me away, and to overthrow my influence with the King. Have you
heard about Countess Hoym?"

"No," replied the young man, who was Prince Ludwig von Wuertemberg. "I
have only heard them laughing at poor Hoym, whom they made drunk, so
that they might compel him to show his wife."

"Yes," exclaimed the Princess with animation, "they well knew how to
arouse Augustus's curiosity. But I have seen her; she is beautiful, and
she is dangerous."

"So much the better!" cried the Prince, springing from his seat. "Then
you will be free!"

Teschen blushed, and looked inquiringly at the young man--there was a
moment's silence, then she stretched out her hands towards him. He
seized them, kissed them with fervour, and was still holding them, when
a little woman, who bore some likeness to the Princess, rushed into the
room, laughing maliciously.

It was difficult to guess how old she was, for she had one of those
faces which, never being fresh, do not grow old for a long time. Her
sharp, grey, malicious eyes were full of animation, her lips wore an
ironical smile, whilst her features bespoke her a feverish gossip and
an unbearable intriguante. She was dressed with the greatest care; had
a dainty figure, and small feet. She clapped her hands in delight when
Prince von Wuertemberg withdrew his lips from the Princess's hand.

"Bravo! Bravissimo!" she screeched. "I see that my sister has secured
military protection for her retreat; for it seems to me that the moment
has arrived when we shall have to retreat from the King's heart and
court."

The speaker was the Princess's own sister, and married to the Baron von
Glassenapp.

"My dear sister, I have not seen you for a long time," prattled on the
little lady, "but at the moment of peril, I always appear. Teschen, do
you know that Hoym's wife has arrived? I saw her when she was at
Dresden during the King's absence, and I then foretold that, like the
beautiful Helen of Troy, she would bring misfortune to some one. She is
beautiful as an angel, and dark, which for a blonde like Teschen, is
always dangerous. She is animated, witty, malicious, and proud as a
Queen. Your power is ended."

She laughed.

"Well, you still have a chance of princely titles," she continued, not
allowing any one an opportunity to put in a word. "I was only able to
catch a poor Pomeranian Baron--but you got Lubomirska, you have
Teschen, and for provision you are trying to get Von Wuertemberg."

The Prince stood blushing and angry. Teschen lowered her eyes, and
murmured through her set teeth,--

"I could have a fourth, if I wished."

"I will tell you his name, if you like," interrupted the Baroness, and,
running up to her sister, she put her mouth to her ear, saying,--

"The Prince Alexander Sobieski, is it not? But he will not marry, while
Ludwig will. Try and hold him."

The Princess turned from her sister in disgust, and the Baroness looked
in the mirrors, flitted about the room, all the while keeping an eye on
the couple, at whom she laughed dreadfully.

"If you are clever, Teschen, you may still come out of this crisis
triumphant. Hoym's wife is a simpleton; she will disgust the King;
she will attract him at first by her beauty, but she will repulse him
with her pride; after her, Teschen will appear dear and sweet. Well,
one must forgive the King's fancy. Such men have great sorrows, and
great privileges. Only I am sorry," she continued, "that every one is
tearing you to pieces already. The Countesses Reuss and Hulchen are
offering sacrifices to the new goddess, while Fuerstenberg and even
brother-in-law Vitzthum are ready to supplant Hoym. Poor Hoym, when his
wife leaves him, I would marry him, if it were not for my duties. But
the old libertine never cared for me."

Here Prince Ludwig rose to take his leave, and the way in which
Princess Ursula shook hands with him did not escape the notice of the
Baroness, who bowed to him distantly.

There was silence for a few moments after the sisters were left alone.

"You must not take it so tragically," began the Baroness, "any one
could have foreseen that this would happen sooner or later. The King is
tired of a blonde, you have a principality, you have estates in
Hoyerswerd; you have millions, diamonds, a palace; you are still young,
still beautiful; and there is Prince Ludwig, who is ready to marry you.
I tell you frankly, I would gladly exchange my lot for yours, and I
would give you Schulemberg in addition."

"But I loved him," interrupted the Princess, weeping bitterly.

"But that is all over," rejoined the Baroness, "I know that you were
both in love with each other, for a whole year at the least, during
which time the King betrayed you secretly, at least, ten times, and you
repaid him in the same coin."

"Sister!" exclaimed the Princess indignantly.

"Well, then, you did not. But during that time you were able to obtain
for yourself the love of the Prince von Wuertemberg. I am called
malicious and wicked, but I should not have been able to do it. I only
found Schulemberg after I had been bitten by Glassenapp."

She laughed a little, and then continued,--

"Listen, Kings have a custom, when taking leave of their favourites, to
ask for the return of the diamonds they have given. I warn you,
therefore, to put yours in a safe place."

She looked at her sister, who apparently did not hear what she was
saying.

"Are you going to the ball?" she inquired.

"The ball?" repeated the Princess, thoughtfully. "Yes; I must go to the
ball. I shall go dressed in mourning, and without any jewels; but tell
me, will a black robe be becoming to me?"

The Baroness laughed.

"Undoubtedly!" she replied. "Mourning is becoming to every one. But if
you think that by doing this you will soften the hearts of Augustus and
his courtiers, you are mistaken; they will all laugh at you; they do
not like tragedies."

"What will be, will be!" replied the Princess. "I shall go in mourning.
I will appear before him like a silent ghost."

"And as Countess Hoym will be merry and fresh, you will also disappear
like a ghost. Believe me, the past can never be recalled."

She looked at the clock.

"It is late already! I shall see you again at the ball--I shall be
there, but I shall be in the background, like a spectator who applauds
the actors. Good-bye!"




                               CHAPTER V.


Most of the guests had arrived. The magnificence of the dresses with
which the ball-room was crowded, hid from view the calamities caused by
the war that had lately visited Saxony. The King's dress was covered
with diamonds, large diamonds formed the buttons of his tunic, whilst a
profusion of the same precious stones glittered on the hilt of his
sword and the buckles of his shoes. His majestic figure looked quite
youthful, and the expression of his features was more suited to a
victor than to one who had been obliged to fight for his throne against
a most determined adversary.

The dresses of the ladies also glittered with precious stones, although
many of the court beauties had no need of these adornments. The Queen
alone was modestly dressed; Augustus gallantly hastened forward to meet
her; the musicians played a fanfare. The principal actresses, however,
had not yet arrived.

The King had already begun to frown in true Olympic fashion, and was
looking at Fuerstenberg in a way that that nobleman understood
perfectly, when, despite the respect due to the presence of the
sovereign, murmurs arose at the entrance to the ball-room. The eyes of
all the guests were eagerly turned towards the doorway.

"They come!" whispered Fuerstenberg.

He was right; and the next moment, Hoym, his face pale and sad, entered
the room, accompanied by his wife.

Perhaps never before had there been seen beauty so dazzling, even at
that court so famed for beautiful women.

Countess Hoym walked amongst the ladies with the dignity of a queen;
she was fearless, calm, dignified, and so lovely, that there was a
general murmur of admiration. The King looked at her intently, but
failed to catch her eyes. As she was to be presented to the Queen, she
allowed herself to be conducted to Her Majesty, but she did not appear
to be dazzled by the splendour of the court, or by the Apollo-like
beauty of the King, who, it was evident, had placed himself so as to
appear before her to the best advantage. A quiver of impatience passed
over his features.

Hoym led his wife forward, looking like a man condemned to death. His
enemies were delighted at the sight of his agony, which he made no
attempt to conceal. The Queen looked kindly on the Countess, and smiled
on her graciously, but she was full of pity for the fate that awaited
that beautiful woman. She even sighed slightly.

As soon as the formalities of the presentation were concluded, the
musicians played a polonaise, and the King opened the ball with the
Queen.

Princess Teschen had not yet arrived. All the other ladies were
present, however, even Fraulein Hulchen, who, although ill, had
overcome her sufferings in order to satisfy her curiosity.

The first dance was just ended, when the sounds of renewed murmuring
announced that something unusual had occurred. All the guests, and even
the King, looked in the direction whence the sound proceeded--there on
the threshold, as though hesitating whether or no she should enter,
stood Princess Teschen. She was clad in deep mourning. On seeing who it
was, Augustus went forward to meet her, looking very much annoyed.

"Whom have you lost," he inquired ironically, "that you appear here in
a dress so little suited to a ball?"

"I have lost your Majesty," murmured Teschen softly.

The inquisitive eyes that had been regarding the Princess were now
turned towards Countess Hoym, and even the ladies acknowledged that the
latter was by far the more beautiful.

Augustus was intoxicated at the sight of her beauty, and the moment
Countess Vitzthum had separated her from her husband, he approached
Hoym, and clapping him on the shoulder, said confidentially,--

"My dear Count, you have won that thousand ducats off Fuerstenberg. I
congratulate you on your good fortune, and also on your wife's beauty.
There is no doubt that she is the most beautiful lady at our court. Oh,
Hoym, what a happy man you must be!"

But seeing Hoym, as he stood with drooping head, listening to the
King's congratulations, no one would have supposed him to be happy. On
the contrary, he looked like one humiliated and crushed; like a man
repenting his evil deeds; like one who, did he but dare, would groan
aloud in his anguish. Fuerstenberg bowed, looking ironically at the
King.

"I see, your Majesty," said he in a whisper, "that I must pay the costs
of the King's decision, and that I must also pay the piper."

Augustus turned towards him, and, extending his hand to be kissed,
said,--

"Do not complain, Fuerstenberg; pay the thousand ducats, and take ten
thousand from my treasury as a reward for the opportunity you have
given me of beholding such a masterpiece of beauty."

Meanwhile, Princess Teschen sat alone--every one had deserted her.
Having observed this, Augustus, following his usual custom of
sweetening, as far as possible, his subjects' downfall, went over to
her. Those unacquainted with the King's mode of procedure were much
surprised at seeing him walk in that direction. But Countess Reuss and
Fraulein Hulchen, who observed his movements, were well aware of its
meaning.

"Teschen is overthrown!" said the Countess, addressing her friend. "The
King has gone over to her!"

The old courtiers also, who had seen the King embracing Chancellor
Beichling the day before he was sent to Koenigstein, knew how to
interpret His Majesty's tenderness towards the Princess Teschen.

"Do you know," said the King, seating himself by her side, "that
looking at you in that black dress, you are so beautiful that you
remind me of that tournament at Warsaw, when you fainted through
anxiety for my safety?"

"But Countess Hoym is more beautiful than I am, than the tournament, or
the remembrance of my fainting," replied the Princess sarcastically.

"Countess Hoym may be beautiful, even most beautiful," said Augustus,
"but there are things more beautiful than beauty itself--and one is a
tender and loving heart. Dear Princess, do not make such a spectacle of
yourself; return home, put on your blue dress, that is so becoming to
you, and wait for me for supper."

A deep blush overspread the pale face of the Princess Ursula.

"My King! my Lord!" she exclaimed, forgetful of all that had gone
before. "Is this true? Is it possible that Augustus is still mine?"

"Pray do not doubt me," replied the King gravely. "Why should I lie?"

It was true. At that moment the King did not lie; Countess Hoym's
beauty had made a great impression on him, but at the same time it had
filled him with a sort of fear. The energy of her character betrayed
itself in her every movement and glance, and he felt that he should be
obliged to lay half of his power at her feet. Anna's face said, "I must
rule;" the face of Ursula said, "I love you, and I am dying for your
love!" Countess Hoym even appeared to him too sad and serious. That,
therefore, was the reason he went over to console the Princess; he had
no wish to lose her, and place his neck beneath the yoke of a woman who
seemed not in the least anxious to conquer him.

Countess Hoym was very tastefully dressed; she wore no jewels, but her
coiffure and the colour and cut of her dress lent an added charm to her
beauty. The portraits of her taken at that time, represent her as
having a face of an exquisite oval, a small nose, lovely lips, and very
expressive, large black eyes, whilst her features were very delicate,
and her long black hair very abundant. Her hands, bust, and waist were
of a corresponding beauty; and her fair face blushed and paled with
every succeeding emotion.

Although exposed to the gaze of several hundred persons, Anna Hoym was
not in the least confused; at first she was silent and dignified, but
she speedily became accustomed to the dazzling splendour, which
appeared to her to be an ordinary thing here, for although the court in
which she had passed her young days was not so splendid as that of
Dresden, the forms, she found, were the same.

Princess Teschen at once prepared to obey the King's command, and
having cast on him one languishing glance, she left the ball-room
almost triumphant. A few moments later Augustus stood beside Countess
Hoym's chair. He gazed at her in silence, and, having noticed his
approach, Anna rose. The King requested her to be seated, and she
obeyed, but without any exaggerated respect.

At that time it was the custom that when the King desired to talk with
any one, those standing near immediately retreated. This custom was
observed in the present instance.

"Countess, you are the most beautiful lady at my court," said the King
gallantly, bending towards her as he spoke. "I am delighted with the
new and splendid star that has now risen on my horizon."

Anna raised her head proudly.

"Your Majesty!" replied she, "at night, any small light looks like a
star, but with the daylight it expires. I know how to appreciate your
Majesty's favour, and it is to this favour that I attribute these
flattering words."

"I only repeat what I hear," said Augustus.

"People who see me for the first time," rejoined Anna, laughing,
"usually see badly. A new object amuses; that alone is truly beautiful
which, after many years, still appears beautiful."

The King was silent, for he understood that the beautiful lady beside
him was referring to his gallantry towards Princess Teschen. But after
a few moments, he said,--

"You are too modest."

"Oh, no!" replied Anna with animation. "I do not attach any value to
beauty."

"But beauty of face indicates beauty of soul," rejoined the King.

Anna lowered her eyes. The King did not leave her.

"After the long solitude imposed on you by your husband," continued
Augustus, "the court must appear very strange to you."

"Not at all," replied Anna. "I spent my youth at a court which,
although more modest than your Majesty's, gave me just the same idea as
to what all courts are."

"And what are they?" inquired the King.

"A well-played comedy," answered the Countess.

"And what _role_ do I play in it?"

"Perhaps that of a manager, who is deceived and robbed by every one."

Augustus, slightly surprised, inquired,--

"Do you find everything here deceitful?"

"How could it be otherwise?" asked Anna. "Kings never hear the truth."

"It may be so," said Augustus, "and that is the reason they so
frequently search for lips from which they may hear it."

"But perhaps," rejoined Anna, "they only find lips that know how to
administer poison more skilfully than the others."

"Your speech," said the King politely, "proves to me that you do not
like splendid courts. I greatly regret this, for I thought that the
light from your eyes would brighten our gloomy skies."

"Your Majesty," replied Anna with animation, "I should sound here with
a false note. I know not how to sing like the others."

To turn the current of their conversation, Augustus now began to make
humorous remarks about the ladies and gentlemen surrounding them. And
from this Anna discovered that he knew far more about the characters,
inclinations, and even of the secrets in the lives of his courtiers,
than she would have expected.

"You see," added Augustus, "that this comedy holds no secrets for me;
and what renders it very amusing is that these people imagine that they
deceive and blind me."

"Thus the gods look on the earth," concluded the Countess.

The King was much pleased at being called a god. As she spoke those
words, her eyes, for the first time, met those of the King, which were
fixed on her full of enthusiasm and admiration. In Anna's eyes there
was only an expression of cold curiosity, not unmixed with fear.

After this, the King left her slowly. His courtiers all tried to divine
his thoughts. Fuerstenberg was the first to encounter him.

"Your Majesty," said he, "may I dare to ask if the most beautiful is
also--"

"The most witty," said the King, finishing his sentence for him. "We
must tell Hoym that he must not on any account venture to take her from
Dresden. She is very interesting indeed--a little bit cold, but that
will pass with time."

Hoym, who had been watching from a distance, was unable to guess his
wife's thoughts; but the moment Anna was left alone Countess Reuss,
Fraulein Hulchen, and Countess Vitzthum hastened forward and surrounded
her.

The King noticed it, and shrugged his shoulders.

"They already bow before the rising sun," whispered he to Fuerstenberg.
"But I very much fear that they will be disappointed."

Fuerstenberg looked surprised.

"You also are mistaken," said Augustus, bending down and speaking in
his ear. "Hoym's wife is beautiful, I have examined her carefully: she
is an animated Greek statue, but she is too energetic, too intelligent;
and besides, she would wish to rule. A few days' pleasure with her is
all that I desire. Her beauty attracts me, but her character repels
me."

Fuerstenberg now looked very much astonished, and the King went away.

During all this time, no one had noticed the pale face of a young man,
whose head towered above all the others in the crowd around the door.
His glance rested continually on Anna, and when the King approached
her, his eyes gleamed with anger. At first Countess Hoym did not
observe him, but when the King had left her, and she had more leisure
to look around her, she perceived and recognized Zaklika.

As her eyes rested on his pale face, she grew a trifle confused. Then,
uncertain whether she was mistaken or not, she looked again, and this
time she met his eyes gazing towards her. Now there was no longer room
for doubt: her silent admirer from Laubegast stood before her. In the
expression of his face, she seemed to read pity, sorrow, and
uneasiness.

His looks made her uneasy, and every moment she glanced in his
direction, hoping he might have disappeared. But no, he was still
there, and with the same expression on his features. Why should that
poor, unknown vagabond of a man interest her more than the shining
majesty of the King, or than the courtiers, who were all bent on
petting her? That was a question she was quite unable to answer. She
only felt that a mysterious chain of some strange destiny united her to
that stranger.

Was he an executioner awaiting the hour of her torture, or was he a
victim awaiting the execution? Anna knew not, but a mysterious,
tormenting voice seemed to whisper to her, prophesying the unfolding of
some future destiny between herself and that stranger. Every time she
met his glance, she shivered.

She laughed at her foolish fancies, and the echo in her soul replied
with plaintive moaning.

It was in such a mood that Hoym found her, and he looked very yellow
and sour as he offered her his arm to escort her home. Fate decreed
that they went towards the door near which the stranger youth was
standing. The crowd stepped aside to let them pass. As she crossed the
threshold, the Countess glanced fearfully around, and perceived the
stranger from Laubegast leaning against the wall. Having met her
glance, the youth knelt on one knee, and she felt him seize the hem of
her dress and press it to his lips. When, however, she turned, he had
disappeared.

There before her stood the Countess Reuss, who invited them to supper
so cordially that the Secretary could not refuse.

Fuerstenberg was behind her. They proceeded immediately to the house of
Countess Reuss, where, in company with a select circle, they spent
about an hour. The famous Egeria Hulchen was the leader there. She was
an old maid, but the King gave heed to her words, and frequently asked
her advice. Around her gathered all those who wished to rule, or to
keep up their influence. The King laughed at this clique, but, by its
unseen springs, it ruled both him and the court.

Countess Reuss was one of the principal acting figures at the court of
Augustus II. In her house were held the most important councils. Here
plans were laid for the overthrow or rise of one or other of the lord's
favourites; here also was predicted the favours that awaited the
various ladies; and here, too, they foretold with great exactness the
moment when the King's variable affection would require to change the
object of its devotion.

Hoym was aware that Countess Reuss, foreseeing a new favourite, was
trying to win her to her side; he was shocked by her obsequiousness,
which allowed all to guess that she foresaw in Anna a substitute for
Princess Teschen, but he could not be angry, or rather, he could not
show that he was angry. Through Fraulein Hulchen and her relations,
Countess Reuss had a very great influence at court, and it would be
dangerous to make an enemy of her. Consequently he appeared not to
notice anything amiss, and accepted the invitation.

The party assembled in the drawing-room was very animated, while in the
boudoir adjoining, where persons were moving in and out, the hostess,
her friend, Fuerstenberg, and other members of the clique were talking
business. The largest circle of guests talked of silk and stuff, and
gossiped of matters familiar to every one.

According to the prevailing opinion, the King's tenderness towards
Teschen was a sure sign of her downfall. But Augustus II. was obliged
to spare her, for many reasons. Her relation to Sobieskis, and
Radziejowskis, and her influence in Poland, obliged the King to reckon
with her.

In the boudoir, Countess Reuss was asking Fuerstenberg what the King had
told him concerning Countess Hoym.

"I know the King," replied the Prince, "especially as regards his
disposition towards women. Countess Hoym was sharp and proud--that
repelled him for a time, but her beauty appeals to his senses, and his
senses always subdue him. He is afraid of her, and therefore he will
desire her all the more--and you know that he must always have that for
which he longs. It appears that Countess Hoym is not inclined to play
the part of an easy favourite, and the King will exhaust all his
strength before he conquers her, but there is no doubt that he pleases
her."

"Then you think that her time will come?"

"Yes. Speaking from my knowledge of him, the King would like to gratify
his fancy, but he has no desire for more solid relations; it depends
entirely on her, and how she conducts this affair."

"Do you know anything about her, Chancellor?"

"I can only guess," replied Fuerstenberg. "I believe that neither her
husband, nor any one else, perhaps not even she herself, knows how she
will act when she is extolled. To-day she is a proud and noble woman;
she has a strong character, she is witty, she is clever."

"But she would let herself be guided?" inquired Countess Reuss.

The Prince became thoughtful.

"I only know this," he replied at length, "I prefer to deal with
intelligent persons, rather than with those who do not know what they
are doing."

Silence followed this remark, and presently the Countess signed to him
to leave her alone. When he had departed, she walked up and down her
boudoir several times, then she entered the drawing-room. Here she
man[oe]uvred so cleverly, that she was able to approach Anna, take her
away from the circle of guests, and lead her into the boudoir, where,
after making her take a seat by her side, she spoke as follows:--

"Dear Countess, if you have any patience and indulgence for an old
friend, permit me to speak with you frankly. No one can hear us in this
room. I wish to advise and help you. You know sufficient of the court,
the times in which we live, and of yourself, to be certain that you
have not been brought to Dresden in vain. The King is weary of Teschen,
and he must be in love with some one, it is his nature, and we must be
indulgent to such a great and good lord, in whom the whole world will
forgive such weakness. For us who surround the King, it only remains to
derive as much good from this as we can. You can occupy the most
brilliant position by the King's side, only you must be quick, and you
must also be well aware of what you are going to do."

"Dear Countess," replied Anna, "I have no ambition, I do not care for
riches. I have a husband, and I desire to remain an honest woman."

"I would not raise any objection to your doing so," rejoined Countess
Reuss, smiling, "but permit me to say that I can see no reason why you
should become a martyr. Hoym is awful; he is worn out, he is a
libertine, he betrays you; it is impossible for you to love him; sooner
or later, the heart must speak."

"I shall silence it!"

"Once, or twice, but afterwards there will come the years of weariness
and longing, when, in your despair, you will throw yourself on some
one's breast, and even then you will not be happy. I know the world
well; such is our lot. The King, however, is fascinating and beautiful,
and life with him may become a paradise."

"But he is inconstant, and I do not understand capricious love. It
disgusts me! Such love is not for me!"

"It is the women who are at fault," responded Countess Reuss, "if they
do not know how to make such relations permanent. It would be useless
to bind him with an oath, for the first priest would release him from
it. Your best guarantee of stability will lie in your common sense,
tact, and beauty. Every woman must know how to keep a husband, or a
lover--it is our business."

Countess Hoym shrugged her shoulders.

"It is a very poor love that one has to keep tied by a string!"
exclaimed she. "I do not care for such love! But frankness for
frankness, dear Countess," she continued, in a whisper. "I do not
pledge myself. At present, I wish to remain faithful to Hoym, and it is
only love that would ever make me unfaithful to him. The moment I love,
I shall leave Hoym and go openly to the one I love; and the man who
loves me shall be my husband."

"But the King! the King!"

"Whether he be a king or no, matters not to me," said Countess Hoym.

"Do you know that the King is married, although he does not live with
his wife?"

"He will be obliged to obtain a divorce and marry me," rejoined Anna.
"I have no wish to play the _role_ of either Esterle, or Koenigsmark, or
of Teschen."

Having said this, she rose and walked majestically across the room;
Countess Reuss was silent, there was nothing more to be said.

"You will do as you please," said she, after a while. "As a good
friend, it was my duty to warn you and give you good advice. Let us
remain friends, but allow me to tell you this: the position you disdain
is not so base and secondary as you imagine. The King will bow to your
wishes; you may rule the country, and do much good; you may succour the
unfortunate, make the people happy--all this is worth something."

"My honour is dearer to me than all that," replied Countess Hoym. "Let
us speak no more on this subject."

They left the room. The ladies in the drawing-room looked at them
curiously, trying to guess the subject of their conversation. Anna's
face was crimson, the Countess Reuss was pale, yet both were smiling.

Suddenly the light of torches shone out beneath the window, and,
looking out, Fuerstenberg perceived the King on his way to visit
Teschen, but he looked as sad as a man who had been sentenced to suffer
some severe penalty.




                              CHAPTER VI.


Adolf Magnus, Count Hoym, who occupied a position corresponding to that
of Secretary to the Treasury, had no friends, either at court or in the
country. All hated him, because he imposed taxes on beer. The Saxons
resisted the King as much as they could; and the King, who never had
sufficient money to meet his enormous expenses, was enraged at their
resistance. It was the nobles who made the strongest resistance, and
the King was advised to despoil them of all their privileges, and
surround himself with foreigners, who would not have any relations
either with the nobility or with the masses of the people.

Augustus had partially followed this advice, and the majority of his
secretaries and favourites were taken from foreign lands. Italians,
Frenchmen, and Germans from other provinces occupied all the most
important positions in the state. Hoym, being a very able man in
finding new sources of income for the King, enjoyed great favour with
His Majesty; for Augustus required millions, for Poland, for the army,
for entertainments, and for his favourites. Hoym, however, had no great
confidence in the King's favour; the fate of Beichling and several
others had rendered him distrustful, and he intended, as soon as he had
grown rich, to seize the first opportunity to escape from Saxony with
his head and his money.

Except Beichling, who was at that time imprisoned at Koenigstein, Hoym
did not possess a single friend. Marshal Plug hated him; Fuerstenberg
could not bear him; the others disliked him.

When, after the wager had been laid, Hoym was commanded to bring his
wife and present her at court, no one pitied him; on the contrary, all
laughed at his distress.

The day following the ball, Hoym was obliged to bring the King his
report. The new tax levied on liquors had met with resistance. In the
province of Luzyce, in particular, the nobles openly rebelled against
it. The King could not bear the slightest resistance to his will. When
the report was ended, Augustus the Strong turned to Hoym, and, frowning
angrily, said,--

"Go to-day; go immediately, arrest those who are at the head of this
opposition, and compel the others to obey my will!"

His presence in Luzyce not being in the least necessary, Hoym tried to
persuade the King to send some one else, and allow him to remain in
Dresden, where he had affairs of greater importance to attend to.

"There is nothing more important," replied Augustus, "than breaking the
power and quelling the resistance of those arrogant nobles. Take a
squadron of Dragoons with you, and depart instantly. Should they dare
to assemble, scatter them. Tell them not to follow the example of the
Polish nobles, for I will not suffer anything of that kind from my own
subjects. In two hours you should be on the road to Budzisyn."

His subjects might discuss matters with the King when he was drunk, but
when sober Augustus had his will, and _only one word_.

This expedition, following, as it did, closely on the ball, seemed to
Hoym very suspicious. He knew the King, the court, and all that was
passing there, and he was convinced that he was being sent away so that
he might not prove an obstacle to the monarch's wishes, and that
Augustus might be left at liberty to court his wife. Still he could do
nothing to prevent it. He had no friends; he could not even trust his
own sister. He felt that all the court was against him.

On returning home, he threw the papers on the table, tore his dress,
then, throwing open the door with a great noise, rushed like a madman
into his wife's apartment.

She was alone. He looked at her inquisitively, and at even the smallest
objects surrounding her. Anger was depicted on his pale features. Anna
looked up at him calmly. She was accustomed to such scenes.

"You can rejoice, madam," he exclaimed. "I was fool enough to bring you
here, and now they will do with me as they please. I am an obstacle in
the King's path, therefore His Majesty sends me away. I leave here in
an hour, then you will be left alone."

"And what do you mean by all this, if you please?" inquired the
Countess contemptuously. "Do you require a troop of guards to defend my
honour?"

"No. But I think that my presence would at least restrain their
effrontery," shouted Hoym. "They would not send me away were I not an
obstacle to them. In all this I see the finger of dear Fuerstenberg, who
laughed ironically as he paid me that thousand ducats. I know that he
has received ten thousand from the King for his brilliant idea of
bringing you here."

"Hoym!" exclaimed Anna, rising, "enough of these insults. Go! Go! Do
what you please, only leave me in peace. I can protect myself."

Hoym was silent; his face grew gloomy, for the hands of the clock
announced the hour of his departure.

"I do not need to warn you," he said. "You know all that may happen to
you here. But one thing I must tell you, I will not endure any shame.
Others may be indulgent--I cannot be!"

"I have not sunk so low as those ladies," said Anna, interrupting him.
"I shall not betray you, because in so doing I should humiliate myself.
Should you make my life yet more unendurable, I shall leave you
openly."

Hoym said nothing further. He hesitated for a moment, but a rap was
heard at the door. It was the King's messenger come to remind him of
the hour of departure.

In the castle the occupants were watching for Hoym to cross the bridge.
According to a pre-arranged plan, Countess Reuss was to invite Anna to
her palace, there the King could journey incognito. Countess Vitzthum
was immediately despatched to accomplish this mission secretly, but
Anna refused. It was in vain that the Countess strove to prove to her
that none would know of her visit; her sister-in-law guessed their
plans, and told her so.

"You are too intelligent," laughed Countess Vitzthum, "for me to try to
conceal the truth from you. It is possible that the King may wish to
become better acquainted with you, and that knowing everything, he
might call at Countess Reuss's castle. But what would you do should he,
in order to satisfy his curiosity, call on you here? You could not shut
the door on the King. Would it be more seemly for him to spend a few
hours alone with you in your own home?"

"But the King would not do such a thing. He would not cast a shadow on
my reputation!"

"Everything is possible for him to do. He is wearied and curious, and
he cannot endure any resistance to his will. The women have taught him
despotism by their submission. If you do not accept the Countess
Reuss's invitation, the King will certainly come here."

"How do you know this?"

"I do not know anything," said the Countess Vitzthum, laughing, "but I
know our lord perfectly. I remember a certain evening in my own life,"
she added, sighing.

Anna wrung her hands.

"Then it is necessary to be armed here, as on the road, against highway
robbers! I will find a pistol and dagger!"

Countess Vitzthum endeavoured to soothe the irritated woman, and to
turn everything into a laugh.

"You must know," said she, "that never in all his life has Augustus
used force with any woman. That is not his nature. He is far too
good-looking and too fascinating to have recourse to rough treatment."

After much conversation Anna finally decided to visit Countess Reuss
that evening in company with her sister-in-law. With this joyful news
Countess Vitzthum hastened to her friend, and Fuerstenberg carried the
tidings to the castle.

The King said that he would pay a short visit to Princess Teschen, and
then on his way back he would send his carriage to the castle, and
proceed in a litter, and incognito, to call on Countess Reuss.

Any other woman, who was unhappy with her husband, would have been only
too glad to seize this opportunity of a splendid, although unstable
career, with the certainty of acquiring riches, and the hope that
perhaps a marriage would eventually cover the fault of a moment. But
Anna, Countess Hoym, had been educated in strict principles; she felt
indignant at the light-hearted conduct of those women, who consented to
serve as playthings for their wearied lord. She realized the
possibility of a divorce from Hoym, for she was disgusted with him, but
she would not give up her husband save for love of the King, and for a
marriage with him.

Such an idea would have excited the mirth of any one to whom she
mentioned it. To wish to chain so frivolous a man as Augustus seemed an
utter absurdity.

The King was handsome; he strove to please; the glamour of power and of
the crown increased his charm; what wonder that Anna's heart yearned
for him! Although she felt that she could be happy with him, she could
not, even for a moment, admit the possibility of such happiness being
realized in any way other than by marriage.

During the time that elapsed after the ball, amidst the pressure of the
intrigues that were being carried on around her with the object of
enabling Augustus to approach her, Anna was continually thinking and
pondering. At length she said to herself,--

"I may be his, but I must be the Queen."

And she determined to resign everything rather than be the creature of
intrigues. She felt that she was strong; the mirror assured her of her
beauty and charm; she read in the King's eyes the impression she had
made on him--she resolved to take advantage of it.

"I shall never degenerate," said she to herself. "I would rather be
Hoym's unfortunate wife than Augustus's mistress. I must be his wife or
nothing."

She had already resigned herself to her fate, the only question was as
to the conditions. Yet none suspected that Countess Hoym had resolved
to break with her husband, although they had calculated that
circumstances might arise that would induce her to do so.

Anna had been indulging in dreams, and dreams are dangerous companions
in solitude. Pride and the desire to rule had slowly risen within her
soul, and made her ready to capitulate.

When the hour fixed for the visit arrived, Anna was ready. She had
dressed herself with the greatest care, and her robe was both tasteful
and modest. Her complexion did not require the aid of paint, it was
snow-white by nature, and her luxuriant black curls did but the more
increase the transparency of her skin. But these attractions were as
nothing when compared with her eyes, so full of fire, and possessed of
such a bewitching charm. A glance from those eyes could drive a man
mad, and they said more than their owner would have cared to express
with her lips.

Looking in the mirror, she found she was so beautiful that she smiled
with satisfaction. Her dress was black enlivened with crimson ribbons,
which made a most picturesque costume. The Countess Vitzthum, who came
to fetch her, screamed with admiration on beholding her, so beautiful
did she appear, and she for one would have felt no surprise had a crown
been thrown at her feet.

"You say you wish to live with my brother," said she, "and yet you
dress so beautifully to receive the King?"

"No woman would willingly make herself appear homely," replied Anna
coldly.

"But you are quite a master in the art of dress, and need no advice.
Well, let us be going."

The same kind of admiring exclamations greeted her on her arrival at
Countess Reuss's house. At the ball, her beauty had surpassed all
expectation, here it was dazzling. Even those ladies who had not given
up being beautiful felt old and withered beside her. Although they knew
that she was twenty-four, Anna did not appear to them to be more than
eighteen.

No one felt more pleasure in her appearance than Countess Reuss, for
she was now sure of the success of her plans. All crowded around Anna,
rendering her homage as to a queen, and trying to gain her favour.
Fuerstenberg, who arrived a few moments before the King, was lost in
amazement.

"I know the King," said he, "she will be able to do anything she likes
with him if only she knows how to stand firm."

Anna was guided by instinct, and needed none to teach her.

After a few moments the door opened cautiously, and the King entered
the room. While yet on the threshold his eyes were eagerly searching
for Anna. Perceiving her, he blushed, then he turned pale, grew
confused, and, forgetful of his hostess, he rushed forward to greet
Countess Hoym. On his brow there was now no trace of regret for lost
millions, anger at Polish ingratitude, shame at his defeat by the
Swedes, or any sign of disappointment.

Anna welcomed him coolly, but her dress alone was sufficiently
eloquent. That she wished to please him was evident, and this gave him
hope.

Although Anna had made a great impression on him, the King was,
nevertheless, very careful to observe all those forms of civility due
to the fair sex, and although he hated the Countess Reuss, he sat
beside her for a few moments, chatting courteously, yet all the while
looking towards Countess Hoym. He whispered to Fraulein Hulchen,
smiled at Countess Vitzthum, and gratified all the ladies by his
glances. During this ceremony, Countess Vitzthum had time to lead her
sister-in-law into an adjoining room under the pretence of having an
interesting conversation with her. It was a strategical man[oe]uvre to
enable the King to have a sweet _tete-a-tete_, for the moment Augustus
appeared in the doorway, Countess Vitzthum retreated towards the
drawing-room, and soon disappeared.

It is true that the door remained open, and the portiere that was
raised allowed the chattering ladies to gaze on His Majesty, but no one
could hear a word of what the two were saying.

"Madame, to-day you are quite different to yesterday, and even more
beautiful! You are bewitching!" he exclaimed, without any restraint.

"Your Majesty's indulgence is so well known, that it is difficult to
believe these most flattering compliments," replied Anna.

"Do you wish me to swear it? I am ready to take an oath by all the gods
of Olympus, that I have never seen such a beautiful woman. I am amazed
at the cruelty of that destiny which has given such an angel into
Hoym's hands."

In spite of herself, Anna laughed, and for the first time a row of
pearl-like teeth appeared behind her coral lips. Her laughter made her
yet more beautiful.

The King looked at her hands, they were so beautiful, that he was
seized with a passionate desire to kiss them, and it was with
difficulty that he abstained from pressing one of them to his lips.
They were perfection. His head was beginning to be turned.

"Were I a tyrant," said he, "I should forbid Hoym ever to return
hither, I am jealous of that Vulcan."

"Vulcan is likewise jealous," responded Anna.

"But Venus cannot love him!" said the King.

"Should love be wanting, there are other chains that bind yet stronger
than those of love--the chains formed by oath and by duty."

The King smiled.

"An oath in love!"

"No, your Majesty, in marriage."

"But there are sacrilegious marriages," observed Augustus, "and I
regard as such, those marriages in which beauty is united to ugliness.
In such cases the gods give absolution for the broken oath."

"But pride will not suffer one to accept it."

"You are too severe, madame."

"More so than your Majesty supposes."

"Countess, you terrify me."

"Your Majesty?" Anna smiled. "Why should my lord care aught about
severity?"

"More than you suppose," replied the King, repeating her own words.

"That I cannot understand," whispered Anna.

"What? Then you do not wish to see that I was conquered by your first
glance."

"That will not last until day-break, I fancy. Your Majesty has this in
common with the gods, that you love and forget easily."

"No," exclaimed the King, "believe me, those are calumnies. Is it my
fault that I have never yet met with a heart, a mind, a beauty to which
I was able to attach myself for ever? It is not I who am unfaithful, I
am betrayed. Each day these goddesses lose some charm, miracles become
ordinary phenomena, the angels lose their wings, and, instead of
finding love in the heart, I discover only coquettishness and coldness.
Am I the guilty one? Believe me, madame," he continued, with
enthusiasm, "I am busy searching for a woman to whom I could belong all
my life long. To such a woman I would give myself entirely."

"It is difficult to believe that," whispered Anna, "and it is still
more difficult to imagine a perfection that would be worthy of your
Majesty."

"I find it in you," interrupted the King. "You are bewitching," he
added, stretching forth his hands to seize hers.

Anna wished to withdraw them, but etiquette did not allow of this, and,
seizing her white hand, the King began to kiss it, and this he
continued to do for so long, that at length Anna grew afraid that those
in the drawing-room would see this familiar behaviour, and, with all
due respect for His Majesty, slowly withdrew her hand.

Augustus rose full of emotion.

"I cannot separate myself from you," said he, "I see that I shall be
obliged to summon the power of the King to aid my ardour, which does
not appear to move you in the least. You cannot leave the city. I
arrest you. As for Hoym, only your intercession--"

He did not finish his speech. Anna had no idea of interceding.

Their conversation would have lasted much longer, for Augustus was very
excited, only Countess Reuss entered, to beg the King to partake of a
collation of sweetmeats, fruits, and wine. The King consented, and
drank the first glass of wine to Anna's health.

Fuerstenberg watched him attentively.

"Teschen is lost!" whispered he to Countess Vitzthum.

"And my brother likewise!" replied she, also in a whisper. "Provided
only that my sister-in-law has sense!"

"I wish she had not so much," rejoined Fuerstenberg. "Look what
self-possession she has preserved, the King did not succeed in turning
her head, but it seems to me that he has lost his own."

The collation ended, the ladies again withdrew, and Augustus
endeavoured to detain Anna by entering into a clever conversation. She
remained, was animated and witty, but both the King and Fuerstenberg
remarked that she still retained her self-possession, and was not in
the least intoxicated by her splendid triumph. It was the first time in
his life that Augustus had met such a woman. She did not immediately
succumb to his love as the others had done, neither did she appear to
take any advantage of it.

It stung him to the quick.

This woman's calmness began to irritate him, but at the same time it
increased his passion.

At first he had only intended to carry on a short intrigue with
Countess Hoym, but he now saw that this would be more difficult than he
had thought or calculated.

Anna laughed, jested, and was very amusing; she was evidently trying to
entangle the King, but she herself remained calm and inaccessible.
Instead of approaching his object, with the good fortune of Jupiter,
Augustus perceived that he was drifting away from it.

At the close of the conversation, when the King became more pressing,
and no longer concealed his ardour, he begged for a small place in the
heart of the beautiful lady. Anna, who had already grown familiar with
him, replied with precision,--

"Your Majesty forces me to make an unpleasant avowal. I am one of those
unfortunate, feeble creatures, whose pride is their only strength. If
your Majesty imagines that, dazzled by the allurements held out to me,
I shall forget the respect due to myself, or that, carried away by a
momentary madness, I shall forget the future, your Majesty is mistaken.
Anna Hoym will never become the King's temporary favourite. She will
give her whole heart, and for ever, or nothing."

Having said this, she rose and passed into the drawing-room.

Immediately after this, the King, accompanied by Fuerstenberg, quietly
left Countess Reuss's house. The Countess followed him to the hall,
Augustus's face was gloomy and sad. From this, his hostess guessed how
Anna had treated the King, but she was glad of it, for their relations
promised to be the more lasting in proportion to the difficulty of the
commencement. A short love intrigue, that did not overthrow the
Princess Teschen, would not accord with her plans, for through Anna she
expected that her own influence would be more firmly established.

"Dear Countess," whispered the King, as he bade her farewell, "try to
animate that beautiful statue."

Before Countess Reuss could reply, the King had descended the stairs.
The conversation that ensued between him and such an intimate friend as
Fuerstenberg was different.

"The woman is enchanting," said the King, "but at the same time she
repels, and is cold as an icicle."

"Your Majesty, women are of different temperaments; it is no wonder
that she protects herself."

"But she speaks frankly about marriage."

"Every woman thinks that love for her must be everlasting, and one can
promise that to every one."

"It will not be done very easily with this one," added Augustus,
"Teschen was much easier."

"But there is no comparison between them."

"Alas! that is only too true. She is far superior to Teschen. Send Hoym
an order that he is not to dare to return."

"But what is he to do there?" laughed the Prince.

"Let him do what he pleases," said the King. "Before all things, he
must collect as much money as possible, for it seems to me that my new
love will be very costly."

"Your Majesty, then, is already talking of love?"

"And of fear, too! Fuerstchen, you can do what you please, but she must
be mine."

"And Ursula?"

"Marry her!"

"Thanks."

"Then marry her to any one else you please; all is over between us."

"Already?" inquired the Prince, with scarcely concealed joy.

"Yes! I shall gild Hoym, her, and you."

"But from whence shall we obtain so much gold?"

"That concerns Hoym," replied the King.

They entered the palace as he spoke, and Augustus went directly to his
chamber. He was sad and thoughtful. The last campaign, disastrous as it
was, had not caused him so much sorrow as the ill-success of this
evening.




                              CHAPTER VII.


Thus began the reign of one woman at the Court of Augustus II., and it
lasted longer than any other of the same kind.

The Court, and indeed the whole city, watched with great interest the
course of this intrigue, the end of which could be easily guessed.

Hoym was forbidden to return. Every day the Countesses Reuss and
Vitzthum, assisted by the Prince, invented some new pretext for
bringing the King and the beautiful Anna together; every day she was
bolder and more familiar with him, but since the evening spent at
Countess Reuss's house, Augustus had made no further advances, neither
had he heard from her anything different from what she had then said.
The beautiful Anna showed no signs of yielding, and at length her
coolness and self-possession began to alarm every one. They feared the
King would be discouraged, and retire, and that then some one else
would be suggested to him. Every time they attempted to question
Countess Hoym, she replied that she would become a wife, but never a
mistress. She demanded, if not an immediate marriage, to which there
was an obstacle in the person of Queen Christine Eberhardyne, at least
a solemn promise from the King that he would marry her, in the event of
his becoming a widower.

The condition was most strange and unusual; in other times, or in other
courts, or amongst a less light-headed people, it would have been
impossible. The first time Fuerstenberg mentioned it to the King,
Augustus did not reply. A few hours later, he said,--

"I am already weary of this long courtship, we must end it once and for
ever."

"Break it?" inquired the Prince.

"We shall see," replied the King briefly.

His confidant could learn nothing farther.

One day the King ordered a hundred thousand gold thalers to be brought
him from the treasury. The bag was enormous, and two strong men could
scarcely carry it. When they had deposited their heavy burden, the King
seized it, and lifted it without the slightest difficulty. Fuerstenberg,
who was present, did not dare ask for what purpose such an amount was
destined, the King's face was far too gloomy. It was clear that events
of considerable importance were at hand. The King was silent. He
visited Princess Teschen almost daily. That Princess almost drowned
herself in tears when the name of Countess Hoym was mentioned in her
presence, but she quickly dried them when she perceived the King. In
this state of uncertainty several weeks passed away--a time that seemed
to the courtiers all too long. They knew not to whom they should bow,
nor to whom they should go with gossip. At length Hoym was not only
permitted, but even commanded to return, for the treasury was empty,
and he alone could fill it.

The day the Secretary to the Treasury was expected to return, Augustus,
having placed the bag containing the hundred thousand thalers in his
carriage, gave orders that he should be driven to Hoym's palace.

It was towards evening, and foggy. Countess Hoym was sitting solitary
and thoughtful in her boudoir. Being unaccustomed to receive visitors,
she was greatly surprised at hearing the voices of men conversing on
the stairs, and her astonishment increased when, without any warning,
the door opened and the King entered the room.

The door was immediately closed behind him. Anna was terrified, and
seized the pistol which, ever since her arrival in Dresden, she had
kept lying on the table. She had frequently been joked with about this
precaution. Although she concealed the weapon in the folds of her
dress, the King had noticed her action.

"You do not need to defend yourself," said he.

Anna stared at him, but was incapable of uttering a word.

"Listen," continued Augustus, throwing the bag of gold on the floor
with such violence that the ducats were scattered. "I can give you
gold, honours, and titles in abundance."

Then, taking a horse-shoe he had brought with him, he broke it, and
cast the fragments on the piles of gold.

"But," he added, "I can also break resistance as I have just broken
that iron. You have to choose between iron and gold, peace and war,
love and hatred."

Anna stood looking with indifference on the gold and the broken
horse-shoe.

"Your Majesty," said she, after a moment's silence, "I do not fear
death, I do not wish for gold. You can break me as you broke that
horse-shoe, but you cannot do anything against my will. Why do you not
bring me the thing that can conquer me? Why do you not offer me your
heart?"

Augustus rushed towards her.

"That has been yours for a long time," he exclaimed.

"I neither see it, nor feel it," said the Countess slowly. "The heart
is shown in deeds. A heart that loves truly would never wish to
dishonour the object of its love. My Lord, I cannot conceal from you
that I love you. I could not resist your love, but I cannot stain it!"

The King knelt before her, but Anna retreated.

"Your Majesty, listen to me, I pray you."

"Command me!"

"Anna Hoym could never be yours except she felt she were worthy of
you."

"What are your conditions?"

"A written promise that you will marry me."

Hearing this, Augustus frowned, and drooped his head.

"Believe me, Anna, such a condition is full of danger for yourself."

"I will not give it up. I would give my life for it. My honour requires
it. Then I should be your Majesty's wife, in thought and in hope. Else
you shall not touch me; I will kill myself if you do!"

The King retreated.

"Very well, then," said he, "if that is your wish, shall have it."

Anna gave a cry of joy.

"All the rest is as nothing in comparison with that!" she exclaimed in
a voice full of happiness. "But first I must be divorced from Hoym."

"That shall be done to-morrow. I will have it signed in the
consistory," said the King hastily. "Now, what further?"

"Nothing more on my side," she replied in a broken voice, as she knelt
before the King. "That is sufficient for me."

"But it is not sufficient for the King, for me," said Augustus, seizing
her in his arms, from which, however, Anna escaped by slipping down on
the floor.

"I believe your Majesty's word," she exclaimed; "but before I permit
myself to be touched, the chains that bind me must be broken, the
divorce must be pronounced, your promise signed. I am Hoym's wife, I
have sworn to be faithful to him--I must keep my oath."

Augustus kissed her hand.

"I am your slave, you are my lady! Hoym returns to-day, leave him;
to-morrow I will have a palace ready for you. You shall have a hundred
thousand thalers a year, I will lay my whole kingdom at your feet, and
with it, myself."

Seeing him kneeling at her feet, Anna kissed his forehead, then she
sprang backwards.

"Until to-morrow!" she said.

"Am I to leave you?" inquired Augustus.

"Until to-morrow," she repeated.

Then the King rose and left her. The heaps of gold remained lying on
the floor.

That same night Count Hoym returned home. He hastened to his wife's
apartment, but found the door locked, and, on inquiring of the
servants, was informed that their lady was unwell and had retired to
rest, after giving orders that no one should disturb her.

During his absence, which was of an unnecessary length, the Count had
grown seriously uneasy about his wife. It was true that his spies wrote
to him daily, informing him of her every movement, but as she was
always accompanied by his sister, he could not foresee any danger. He
felt, however, that the intrigue was growing ever stronger and
stronger, and that it threatened his matrimonial life. Still he was
powerless to prevent it, for at its head was the King, and him Hoym
feared, for he knew him better than any one else did. Besides, he could
not forget the fate that had overtaken Beichling. The best guarantee of
safety that he had, lay in his wife's character, her pride, and her
love for her good reputation.

When he returned to Dresden, he knew nothing but what his spies had
informed him; in the city, and from the people of the court, he could
not expect to learn anything.

The hour was late, but although at the King's castle a feast was in
progress, Hoym had no wish to go thither; instead, he went straight to
his own home, and having found his wife's door locked, he also retired
to rest.

The following day the King sent for him, and he was obliged to obey the
summons, and go to the castle without having seen his wife.

The King received him very kindly, he even embraced him, and this Hoym
regarded as the worst possible sign. Next Augustus reproached him with
having remained away so long, and although he himself had commanded
that the Count should not return, he acted as though he knew nothing of
the order.

Hoym gazed into the King's eyes in astonishment.

"It is evident that you have some enemies at court," said the King.
"They wished to keep you away from me, but fear nothing, I am your
friend, I will not allow you to be wronged."

Hoym thanked the King for his favour. Then, during their further
conversation, His Majesty complained that he had not sufficient money.

"Dear Hoym," said he, "you must procure it, I need it so very badly."

It was towards noon when Hoym at length returned to his home. He had
scarcely crossed the threshold of his room, than Anna, dressed in
black, appeared before him. Never before had she looked more beautiful,
calm, and dignified.

Hoym sprang towards her, but she received him coldly, and kept him at a
distance.

"I have been waiting for you," she said. "I have come to thank you for
every good thing you have done for me, and to assure you that I shall
never forget it. But at the same time, I have to tell you that our
marriage, which is not based on mutual sympathy, and therefore cannot
give us any guarantee of happiness, must come to an end. We must be
separated. You know I always speak frankly. The King has been good
enough to assure me of his favour--I cannot refuse it. Moreover, I love
him, and am determined to obey him. But I cannot be false to you. I am
come, therefore, to ask you for a divorce; this will save the honour of
your name. We cannot act otherwise. Should you consent to a divorce,
you may rest assured of my gratitude; I will also endeavour to assist
you in everything. Should you, on the contrary, prefer to resist my
wish, it will not in anywise alter my determination, but it will cause
me to forget my gratitude towards you, and to remember you only as a
hindrance to my happiness."

From the first words of his wife's artful and formal speech, Hoym had
guessed everything. He drew back as though struck by a thunderbolt. He
had not suspected that matters had gone so far as that. His pale face
became crimson. Several times he would have interrupted her, but the
magnetic gaze that Anna fixed upon him kept him silent until her speech
was ended. The indifference and self-possession with which she spoke
filled Hoym with indignation.

By the time she had finished speaking, his anger was so great that he
was unable to utter a word.

"Madam," shouted he at length, "you reward me nicely for having drawn
you from your obscure corner. You will leave home and husband to depend
on the favour of a most frivolous man."

But Anna did not allow him to proceed with his speech.

"Enough of this!" she exclaimed. "I know all that you are going to say;
I know also what I intend doing. The care for my future fate you can
leave to me. Nothing will alter my determination. I only ask you to
choose and tell me whether, or no, you will consent to the divorce. Are
we to be friends or enemies? Yes or no?"

Hoym was one of the most licentious of the courtiers; his relations
with his wife were of the worst, but the moment he realized that he was
to lose her for ever, grief, jealousy, and anger overwhelmed him to
such a degree that he was unable to speak.

As was his custom when enraged, he began to tear his wig, and rush to
and fro across the room, overthrowing the chairs as he went. He
clenched his hands, stood for a few moments at a window, gazing into
the street beneath, then he rushed threateningly towards his wife, and
vainly endeavoured to speak. Then again he hurried from her. In short,
he looked just like a madman who does not know what he is doing.

But all this outburst of fury made not the least impression on Anna.
She only waited quietly, looking at him ironically. At length, being
unable to obtain an answer, she said, coldly,--

"I see you cannot decide between peace and war. I would only remind you
that war with me and the King would be a trifle dangerous."

She left the room as she spoke.

Hoym still continued his mad rushes to and fro.

He tore his clothes, he sat down, rose again, and gave way to every
possible action of despair. And in this he continued until he was
interrupted by the entrance of Vitzthum.

"Hoym!" exclaimed his visitor, "what is the matter?"

"You know that better than I do. It is you, my dearest friends, who
have prepared this surprise for me. Anna leaves me! The King requires
her! Why did she ever marry me? Why does she wish to make me the
laughing-stock of the people?"

Vitzthum let him have his storm out, then he spoke.

"Listen, Hoym," said he. "I can understand that you would regret
parting with the beautiful Anna, but you know well that she never loved
you, and you led her such a life, that I doubt if you really loved her.
Thus, then, there can be no question of love in the matter. Let us now
talk calmly; I have come here by the King's command."

"And what, pray, does His Majesty command?" inquired Hoym
sarcastically.

"He wishes your consent to the divorce, in return for which he promises
you his favour," replied Vitzthum. "If you do not consent, I pity you,
my dear fellow, but I must warn you that you expose yourself to great
danger. You cannot fight against the King. The slightest wrong done to
the Countess will be regarded as _lese majestatis_."

"But why do you wish for my consent?" exclaimed Hoym. "The King can do
anything he chooses without that. The Consistory will obey him. Let him
take from me my most precious possession, but he must not ask me to
thank him for so doing."

Vitzthum smiled.

"It is a proof of his favour, that he asks your permission to do a
thing which he can as easily do without it. From this you should see
that he desires to retain you in your present position."

"Only because he has need of me," muttered Hoym.

Vitzthum sat down on the sofa.

"Dear Count, think it well over; when I leave the room it will be too
late."

Again Hoym rushed wildly about the room, overthrowing everything that
came in his way. At length, throwing himself down on a chair, he began
to laugh; but it was a laugh full of bitterness.

"Hoym, the King is awaiting your decision," said Vitzthum.

"It is mere irony to ask a man whom you have stripped of his clothes,
for permission to keep them, and threaten him with a club should he
refuse. Therefore, my dear brother-in-law, you will tell His Majesty
that I am very grateful to him for taking the burden of that woman from
me. Tell him I consent, that I am glad, happy, merry, that I kiss His
Majesty's hand. It is a great honour to be able to offer the King a
half-eaten fruit--ha! ha! ha!"

"You had better drink a glass of iced-water," said Vitzthum, taking his
hat.

He shook hands with Hoym.

"Believe me," said he, in a whisper, "you have come out of this better
than any of the others. I will tell the King you consent. You will cool
off after a time."

The King was eagerly awaiting the answer, but, being impatient, he had
ordered that he should be carried to Hoym's palace, where he entered
Anna's apartments. Just as Vitzthum was preparing to go to the castle,
he was informed that the King was waiting for him, only a few paces
away. From his countenance, and the smile with which he entered His
Majesty's presence, Augustus guessed immediately that Hoym would not
oppose his wishes. But the beautiful Anna, addressing the ambassador,
said,--

"You were more fortunate than I was."

"No one could be more fortunate than you are," replied Vitzthum,
bowing, "but I was more patient. I allowed Hoym to work off his
excitement, after that he consented."

The light of joy shone in Anna's black eyes.

"You bring me freedom and happiness!" she cried. "How can I ever repay
you?"

A box lay on the table; this she seized and handed it to Vitzthum.

The King at once approached to see what it contained. In it was Anna's
miniature.

"Ah!" exclaimed he, "that is too great a reward for you, Vitzthum. I
confiscate it in the name of the King, and in exchange I will give you
twenty thousand thalers."

Anna threw herself on the King's breast.

The day following, the Consistory granted the divorce, and on the third
day this was, by Anna's wish, placarded on all the public buildings.

The same day, Anna left her husband's house and took up her abode in a
mansion situated close to the palace, to which it was joined by means
of a covered gallery, which had been constructed in a few hours.

The news spread like wild-fire throughout the city.

Countess Hoym had abandoned her husband's name, and had taken the title
of Cosel, from an estate that Augustus had presented to her. He also
intended to obtain the title of Countess for her from the Emperor
Joseph, and, instead of the house she now occupied, she was to have a
palace built for her similar to that described in the Arabian Nights.

Never for a long time had any of his favourites taken such a hold on
the King's mind, heart, and passion. He passed whole days in her
company, and was invisible to every one--indeed the whole world was
forgotten by him.

Princess Teschen, towards whom, up to the last moment, the King had
shown great tenderness, was the first to learn what had occurred. The
divorce, the lodging near the castle, were sure proofs that her reign
was ended. The King ceased visiting her, yet she still retained her
liberty, and did not fall into disgrace.

Augustus was obliged to treat her kindly through fear of the Cardinal
Radziejewski, over whom the Princess had considerable influence, for
that prelate could cause the King considerable annoyance. The spies
employed by Vitzthum could gain no information as to how the Princess
intended to act. They tried to discover her secrets through her sister,
Baroness Glasenapp, but the Princess was silent, and spent her time
weeping. No one knew whether she was going to remain in Dresden, to
retire to her estates of Hoyerswerde, or to return to Poland. In her
palace no preparations for departure were visible, all remained the
same as it had ever been, except that the visitors were less numerous.
Those servants who still remained faithful to the Princess were
suspected of spying, therefore every one was silent, and evenings were
sad.

Prince Ludwig of Wuertemburg alone visited her more frequently and
stayed longer.

The court intrigues that had been directed towards the overthrow of
Princess Teschen and the instalment in her place of Lady Cosel were,
after the latter's victory, turned in another direction.

Fuerstenberg, who, at the commencement of the intrigue, had been
employed by the King as his intermediary, was now compelled to yield
his place to Vitzthum. The rivalry of these two parties began in the
court of Augustus II., who always took the greatest possible care to
prevent the persons surrounding him from living peaceably together.
He excited one against another, favouring now this person, now that,
and giving each to understand that the other was his enemy. The mere
sight of angry faces gave him great pleasure. In consequence of his
mischief-making, one of his courtiers accused the other, and thus the
King was made aware of all abuses.

Vitzthum was Hoym's brother-in-law. His family came from Thuringia, but
for a long time it had been employed in the service of the Kings of
Saxony. Grand Falconer Count Frederyk Vitzthum von Eckstadt was now
about thirty; he had been at court from the time he was a page, and had
been Augustus' friend since childhood. He always travelled with him,
and after the downfall of the great Chancellor, Beichling, in 1703, he
had obtained for himself the rank of Grand Falconer.

The King was fonder of Vitzthum than of the others, perhaps because he
was not afraid of him. Vitzthum was not a genius; and then, too, he was
always affable, polite, serviceable, a perfect courtier, and a very
good-looking man. He mingled in no intrigues, he had no ambition, and
he served the King faithfully.

Besides and behind Vitzthum, stood his wife, Hoym's sister, one of the
cleverest intriguantes of the court, at which the women played almost
as important a part as the men. Countess Vitzthum was still very
pretty. She was tall, as were the majority of the ladies of the Saxon
aristocracy. She had a fresh complexion, sapphire-blue eyes, a nose
slightly _retrousse_, and she was so merry that she could be recognized
from afar by her laugh. She played with the affairs of the court as one
plays some game; she spied for the sake of spying, she listened at
doors, carried gossip, set snares, kindled passions, excited quarrels,
reconciled enemies; and besides all this, she managed her house and her
husband's affairs admirably; without her, money would often have been
lacking. Like her husband, she had a passion for gambling, but she
gambled carefully and had good luck. She acquired estates, and pushed
her husband, for whom, as he had no ambition, she was forced to be
ambitious.

The Vitzthums did not belong to the most powerful party among the
King's favourites; apparently they stood aside and lower in the scale
than Flemming, Fuerstenberg, Plug, and others, yet notwithstanding this,
they were acquainted with every secret, influenced the King as well as
the courtiers, and could be very dangerous foes. At the commencement of
Cosel's reign, they took up a position that led her to suppose that
they would share her likes and dislikes.

A few days after Cosel had taken possession of the house near the
castle, the whole court felt that the new Queen would not be so weak,
so inclined to weep and faint, as Princess Teschen had been. New life
animated every one. The proud and beauteous lady considered herself as
the King's second wife, and acted accordingly.

Augustus himself was only her most obedient admirer.




                             CHAPTER VIII.


The court of Augustus II. was not lacking in droll and original
figures, whose business it was to amuse the King.

Every morning from the Old City there came on horseback Joseph Froelich,
the fool, known to every one, from the street urchins to the ministers
of state. Once, when Augustus had been in a very good humour, he had
even ordered a medal to be struck in his honour, bearing this
inscription: _Semper Froelich, nunquam Traurig_. Froelich was so
accustomed to laugh as a matter of duty that he made others laugh and
laughed himself from morning till night.

Froelich was small, round, and pink, and always dressed in a
swallow-tail coat, of which, thanks to the munificence of the King, he
had ninety-nine. He wore a tall, pointed hat, ornamented with a
feather. Instead of a chamberlain's key, he carried a large silver vase
on his back similar in form to a key, but as this was hollow it served
as a drinking-cup, and from it Froelich was obliged to drink whenever
the King ordered him to be present at his drinking parties.

As a fool, he would perhaps have wearied the King by his monotonous
gaiety had he not had such a contrast in the melancholy _role_ played
by Baron Schmeidel. Schmeidel and Froelich, as Heraclites and
Democritus, continually quarrelling, amused both Augustus and his
court. When these two were exhausted, there were secondary fools,
Saumagen and Leppert, to replace them. If to these we add the giant,
Cojanus; twelve dwarfs, with the famous Hante and Traum at their head;
and a fair number of negroes and albinos, we shall have some idea of
the crowd whose sole duty it was to amuse their sovereign.

Froelich, the fool, was an intelligent and not a bad man. He lived
quietly and saved his money, and very likely laughed in his sleeve at
those who laughed at him. Every morning Froelich, dressed in his curious
coat and hat, rode to the castle, from whence he returned, frequently
very late at night, to his own house, called Narrenhaus, which was
situated close to the bridge. It was very seldom that any one called on
him, therefore Fraulein Lote, his elderly housekeeper, was greatly
astonished when, very early one morning, she heard a knock at the door.

The fool was not yet dressed, neither was his horse ready, and the
knock frightened him, for he feared that some capricious fancy had
seized the King and induced him to send after him. Fraulein Lote was of
the same opinion when, on peeping through the window, she perceived a
tall young man in the court livery standing on the threshold.

After having glanced at him, Lote inquired what he wanted.

"I should like to say a few words to Froelich," said the new-comer.

"Is it from the King?"

There was no answer; but as secret messengers were by no means
uncommon, Lote did not dare to refuse him admittance, so, opening the
door, she ushered him into the room where the fool was dressing.
Froelich turned towards the stranger as he entered, and, immediately
assuming his role, saluted him with exaggerated politeness, and,
bending half-double, inquired,--

"What can we do for your Excellency?"

"Mr. Froelich," said the stranger modestly, "do not joke at a poor man;
you may rather be excellency than me."

"What?" said Froelich, "I before you? Was it the King that sent you with
such a joke?"

"No; I am come on my own account, and I beg you for a moment's
conversation."

"An audience, eh?" said the fool, looking important. "Donnerwetter!
Have I become a minister? But at our Court everything is possible. The
ministers like each other so well that soon none of them will remain.
Then your turn and mine will come; only I must be the Secretary to the
Treasury."

Heedless of this buffoonery, the new-comer remained sorrowful.

"Well, I will grant you a moment's conversation," continued the fool,
seating himself in an arm-chair and taking the pose of a person of
great importance. Yet still the stranger did not smile.

"Mr. Froelich," said he, "you will be surprised when you learn that I
come to you on a very serious matter."

"Then you have not entered the proper door."

"You are mistaken. I see you every day at Court, and I know from your
face that you are a very good-hearted man."

"My dear man, I am sure you wish to borrow some money," interrupted the
fool, "but I must tell you at once that it is useless. I give
everything--advice, smiles, bows, but not money! I haven't any; the
King has no money, so how could I get any?"

"I did not dream of asking you for money."

"Ah!" breathed the fool, "then what the deuce do you want from me?"

"I want to ask your protection."

"The idea! The protection of a fool! I see you wear the Court livery,
but you have a foreign accent. Who are you?"

"I am a Pole; my name is Raymond Zaklika."

"A Pole, then a nobleman, that's understood," said the fool; "be
seated, I respect the nobility, and as I am a burgher, I shall stand."

"Don't joke, Mr. Froelich!"

"I should swallow my own tongue, if I didn't joke. But we have not much
time, so tell me what you want."

For a few moments the youth was unable to speak; the good humour of the
fool evidently disconcerted him.

"Permit me first to tell you a little about myself," said he at length.

"Only a little? willingly."

"I came to the Court by a mere chance. I am sure you must have heard of
me. Unfortunately for me, I can break horseshoes and cups as well as
the King does. For that I have been ordered to remain at the Court."

"I remember now," laughed the fool, "and I do not envy you in the
least. Who was so simple as to advise you to rival the King?"

"Since I have been at the Court the life there has disgusted me; every
one avoids me; I haven't a friend, a protector; I have no one!"

"But to wish to choose me as a friend and protector, is as good an idea
as the breaking the horseshoes was. Man, if I could break anvils, I
would not break a straw, for fear of exciting the jealousy of others; I
should not like to be in your place."

"That is why I thought that at least Froelich would pity me."

The old fool's eyes dilated, then suddenly his face grew stern and sad,
and he folded his arms across his breast: then, advancing towards
Zaklika, he took hold of his hand, and began to feel his pulse, as
though he had been a doctor.

"I am afraid you have lost your common sense," said he quietly.

"I shouldn't be surprised," said the youth, smiling.

The fool's face brightened again, as though from habit.

"What is the matter in question?" he inquired.

"I wish to get discharged from the King's service."

"That's very easily done," said the fool. "Do some stupid thing, then
they will build a scaffold in the new market, and you will be hanged."

"There's plenty of time for that," replied Zaklika.

"What do you propose doing, should they discharge you? Are you going to
return to your own country, and wrestle with the bear?"

"No, I shall remain at Dresden."

"Are you in love with a pretty girl?"

The youth blushed.

"No," replied he, "I shall give fencing and riding lessons, or I might
enter the military service."

"Do they not give you enough to eat at the Court?"

"We have plenty."

"Do they not pay you?"

"They do."

"Then why don't you like your position?"

The youth looked confused.

"I have nothing to do," said he, "and it worries me.

"It's strange!" said the fool, "you have plenty of bread, and you are
searching for misery. But I don't see how I could be useful to you."

"Very easily. I very frequently stand by the door; by some witty saying
you could draw the King's attention towards me, and when he is in a
good humour he has different fancies."

"Suppose he has a fancy to shoot you?"

"You would protect me."

"_Donnerwetter!_" exclaimed the fool, "for the first time in my life I
see that I am a man of importance, for people come to ask me for
protection. You have opened my eyes. Out of pure gratitude I should
like to do something for you! Who knows! They say that Kyan is to be
appointed commandant of Koenigstein, then I could at least become Court
preacher! I grow ambitious!"

And having seated himself again in an arm-chair, he began to laugh, at
the same time looking pityingly on the young man.

"The end of the world! _Donnerwetter!_ A Polish noble asks a fool for
protection, and the Swedes, who eat herrings, beat the Saxons."

The fool saluted, in the fashion of a minister closing an interview.
Zaklika took the hint, and left the room.

It was a strange idea to seek help from a fool, but his strong love for
Countess Hoym had put it into his head. He wished to enter the service
of the woman, to look at whom was his greatest bliss. He desired
nothing further than to look at his goddess. He never dreamt of
anything else. He wished to be her guard, her unknown defender; he
guessed that she must have many enemies, he feared for her safety, and
he longed to lay down his life in her service. The youth had a strange
disposition; although apparently slow, he had an iron will. He had
determined to gain a place nearer that lovely woman, and it was for her
sake that he had gone to ask protection of the fool, and for her sake
he was ready to bear still greater humiliation.

Cosel, intoxicated by her love for the beautiful Augustus, had not
forgotten the boy who, when she was at Laubegast, used to stand up to
his neck in the water in order to catch a glimpse of her. She smiled at
the reminiscence, about which she had never said a word to any one. He
excited her curiosity, that was all, and she frequently looked after
him as he stood among the crowd.

Augustus' love for the beautiful Lady Cosel did not cause him to give
up drinking with his friends. For many reasons this became more
necessary to him. Amidst his drunken courtiers he could sow discord,
which he used as a tool to support his own power.

That day was a day of revelry in the castle. Augustus was in an
excellent humour, and was planning how he might best surround his
favourite with entertainments, magnificence, and luxury.

Hoym, who still retained his position as Secretary to the Treasury, and
whose tears for the loss of his wife the King had dried by a present of
fifty thousand thalers, was again among those who came to drink with
the King. Hoym was more necessary to Augustus than any of the others,
for money was necessary to him, and the secretary knew how to provide
it.

But the most clever methods of obtaining it had been almost exhausted,
and now they would be obliged to employ some extraordinary means by
which they might obtain the required gold. Augustus, like many of the
rulers of his day, believed in alchemy. They did not doubt but that
there existed some marvellous mixture which could change any metal into
the gold that was so necessary to happiness.

At times no other subject was mentioned at Court than how gold could be
made. Every one had a laboratory. Chancellor Beichling would not have
been sent to Koenigstein had not Fuerstenberg persuaded the King that he
could find a man capable of making gold, and much more gold than
Beichling could squeeze out of the country.

The savant on whom Fuerstenberg depended was a simple apothecary, by
name Johan Friedrich Bottiger, born at Schleiz, in Saxony. He had been
manufacturing a gold-making mixture in Berlin, and Frederick I. had
wished to keep him for himself, but Bottiger succeeded in making his
escape, and came to Saxony, where he received a warm welcome, and was
shut up in a castle and ordered to make gold for King Augustus II.

Fuerstenberg was working with him, and the King firmly believed that any
day they might produce as much gold as they wanted.

They flattered Bottiger, they surrounded him with luxury, but they kept
him securely guarded. Years passed by, and yet the apothecary had not
been successful in making his mixture. They sent the King many things
with which to make gold, but in every case it was necessary before
using them to prepare oneself by prayer, and to have a pure heart.
Augustus prayed, confessed, sat by the crucible, but he could not make
gold. Fortunately a dog overturned the mercury sent by Bottiger, and
they were obliged to use other, and so the ill-success of the work was
attributed to the dog. Bottiger was kept in constant confinement in
Fuerstenberg's castle, and, despite all the comforts with which he was
surrounded, he nearly went mad, but still he did not succeed in making
gold. Bottiger used to give balls and dinners in his prison, and during
the past few years had cost the King forty thousand thalers.

When Lady Cosel succeeded Princess Teschen the famous alchemist was
confined in a tower in the castle, where he busied himself preparing
prescriptions for making gold. Great was the expectation of the Court,
and none doubted that Bottiger would succeed at last.

The evening of the day on which Zaklika sought the protection of the
fool the King, accompanied by Vitzthum, Fuerstenberg, and the Countesses
Reuss and Vitzthum, supped with Lady Cosel.

After supper, Froelich, being called to entertain the company, imitated
the alchemist, and brought in some dirt in a crucible. Such a joke
caused Augustus to look gloomy. Cosel, who had heard something about
Bottiger, began to inquire about him in a whisper. The King was
unwilling to speak of the matter, but to please his favourite he told
her all about the alchemist, what a valuable man he was, and how they
always kept watch over him, lest he should escape.

"Your Majesty," said Froelich, "so long as he is not watched by a very
strong man, the possibility is that he will escape. Your Majesty alone
would be a proper guard for him, or a man equally strong--but such an
one it would be impossible to find, did we search throughout the whole
world."

"There you are mistaken," said Augustus; "I have at my Court a man as
strong as myself."

"I have never heard of him."

It was in this way that Augustus was reminded of Zaklika.

"And what does this Hercules look like?" inquired Cosel.

"Summon him," commanded the King.

Poor Raymond, directly he entered the King's presence, made use of the
opportunity to ask for his discharge, but Augustus shook his head.

"I cannot discharge you," said he, "for I have need of your services. I
have a treasure which I intend to trust to your strength and honesty.
From this moment you belong to the court of Madame Cosel; you will
watch over her safety, and risk your life for her if necessary."

Zaklika could scarcely believe his ears; he blushed, and said nothing.
Chance had served him better than the fool.

Madame Cosel was much surprised, and she also blushed, for she
remembered her meetings with him at Laubegast. However, she was careful
not to say a word about them, and so Zaklika obtained the position he
had so coveted.




                              CHAPTER IX.


The reign of Countess Cosel (she had already obtained the title of
Francis I.) promised to be a long one. Having obtained a written
promise of marriage from the King, she considered herself a second
Queen, and as such she acted. She was almost always in Augustus'
company, and she was ready alike for a journey or for war. No peril
caused her the least alarm.

Soon she knew his character, and was able to discern all the threads of
intrigue. She kept him constantly entertained by her calmness of mind
and unfailing gaiety; she ruled over him, and gained fresh influence
over him every day.

It was soon clear to every one that Cosel was invincible. If the
frivolous King forgot her for a few moments, she knew perfectly how to
hasten out to meet him and within a few hours had regained her former
influence over him. Her beauty seemed to increase rapidly. In vain did
jealous women look for some change in her appearance, for some
weariness in her manner, she bloomed continually, as though perpetual
youth had been granted her.

The following year, the King ordered a palace to be built for her, near
to the castle. This building was a masterpiece of art. It was called
the Palace of the Four Seasons, for there were different apartments for
the different seasons; cool rooms for summer, and bright, warm, and
sunny ones for winter. The former were adorned with marble, the latter
with tapestry. The most costly and valuable articles that Europe could
supply in the way of furniture, trinkets, carpets, dresses, &c., were
to be found here. The army could not be paid, but the palace was
marvellous.

A splendid ball was given as a house-warming, and Countess Cosel,
covered with diamonds, victorious, and looking like some beautiful
goddess, leaned on the King's arm, whom, in secret, she called her
husband. Frivolous Augustus, although not entirely faithful, yet loved
Cosel best of all. She was indeed most bewitching, and foreigners who
saw her at the zenith of her glory spoke of her with enthusiasm.

Cosel extended her influence, and made friends with great ability, but
she could not overcome the jealousy and fear of those who had any
reason to be afraid of her. In vain the clergy, scandalized at the
King's open attachment to her, began to preach against beautiful
Bathsheba, and one day Gerber, a famous preacher of those times, spoke
against her so strongly that there was murmuring in church.

Throughout the whole day nothing was spoken of but Cosel Bathsheba. In
the evening the King's favourite was informed of the attack that had
been made on her by the preacher. Augustus, coming into her apartment,
found her weeping.

"What is the matter, my beautiful goddess?" he exclaimed, seizing her
hands.

"Your Majesty, I beseech you for justice," she replied, sobbing. "You
say that you love me, then protect me from public insult."

"What is the matter?" asked the King uneasily.

"I ask for the punishment of Gerber! An example must be made of this
arrogant priest, who does not even respect the crown. Gerber said I was
Bathsheba."

Augustus smiled.

"I am not Bathsheba, I have no wish to be her! I am your wife, my lord!
You must punish him," cried Anna, kneeling before him.

But Augustus only answered kindly,--

"A priest can say anything he likes once a week, and I can do nothing
to prevent him. Did he pronounce a single word outside the church, I
would punish him. The church shelters him."

Gerber was not punished, but he made no further mention of Bathsheba.

During those most disastrous years that followed, the King's love
increased. The wild Charles XII., a severe and merciless soldier, with
hair cut short, and wearing enormous boots that reached higher than his
knees, persecuted the King covered in velvet and lace, who skirmished
against him clad in golden armour.

Many marvels were told about him. Augustus listened, and was silent.
The Saxon Army was defeated. Despite the exertions of Flemming,
Prebendowski, and Dombski, the prestige of the most magnificent monarch
in Europe was diminishing in Poland. Countess Koenigsmark, a former
favourite, sent over a secret mission, but could accomplish nothing.
Charles XII. had no desire to speak either with her or with any one
else. Good fortune abandoned Augustus II. Bottiger could not make gold,
Hoym was unable to supply it, and Cosel wanted millions. The people,
not wishing to serve in the army, ran away and hid themselves in the
mountains, whilst the preachers vehemently denounced the robbery of the
country.

The nobility, although very respectful, resisted paying such heavy
taxes.

The King was frequently in a very bad humour, but it never lasted long,
for Cosel smiled and her lord's face brightened. Countess Cosel had no
allies, but she did not want them, she felt she was stronger than them
all. The courtiers were frightened.

Vitzthum alone still enjoyed the favours of the King and his favourite,
for he cared not for politics, and loved Augustus like a brother.

The years passed one after the other, full of various incidents.
Fortune was not yet tired of persecuting this most magnificent of
monarchs. The Swedes were victorious, and threatened to drive him from
his throne. Augustus resisted as best he could, grieved, and
endeavoured to counterbalance adversity by indulging in merry-making.

But hunting parties, banquets, balls, masquerades, and theatres, all
were suddenly interrupted by the news that the Swedes had invaded
Saxony. Charles XII. had pursued the enemy into his own country. Fear
seized on every one.

After the defeat at Frauenstadt isolated groups of deserters returned,
and these were captured and hanged, or shot down, for not having done
their duty. On September 1st Charles XII. invaded Saxony at the head of
twenty thousand men. It was impossible to fight against them, so they
were obliged to feed them. Augustus' small army escaped to Wuerzburgh.
Dresden, Sizendorf, Koenigstein, and Sonnenstein had garrisons.

With Charles XII. came the new King of Poland, Stanislaus Leszczynski.
Dresden was deserted. The Queen went to her family at Bayreuth, her
mother went to Magdeburg, and then to Denmark.

Augustus was obliged to resign the crown of Poland in favour of
Stanislaus Leszczynski, and in 1706 a treaty was signed at Altranstadt,
but the Swedes did not leave Saxony.

During the war, and all the bloody horrors that accompanied it,
Augustus remained still the same; love played the most important part
in his life. He lost kingdoms, but he conquered hearts. He still loved
the Countess Cosel, but whenever he was absent from her, he led a life
of dissipation. Now, more than ever, he required distraction, and his
courtiers, who wished to get rid of Cosel, did everything they could to
displace her in his affections.

Fuerstenberg, Countess Reuss, and the whole clique of her enemies,
disappointed in their ambitions, did their best to procure her
downfall. But, confident in her beauty, Cosel cared nothing for their
efforts. She only smiled at their vain attempts. Her relations with the
King were by this time further strengthened by the birth of a daughter.
The proud woman persuaded herself that Augustus could not find another
like her; she alone was capable of participating in his pleasures, and,
besides, she was afraid of neither firing, mad riding, nor campaigning.

Yet, while she was with him in Warsaw, the King betrayed her with the
daughter of a French wine merchant. Having learnt what had occurred,
Anna threatened the King that she would shoot him, but Augustus only
laughed, kissed her hands, and obtained forgiveness. In truth, despite
his side wooings, the King loved Anna best, she alone was able to amuse
him, and he was happiest when with her.

The war, the devastation of the country, the loss of the Polish crown,
did not diminish any portion of Cosel's luxury. Amidst all these
calamities the King played the role of demi-god with a serene
countenance. From the clatter of arms, Augustus, after having signed a
shameful treaty, returned to Dresden, and the carriage had scarcely
stopped in the courtyard of the castle, when he sprang out and rushed
to Cosel's apartment.

At the door of her room he found the faithful Zaklika, leaning against
a chair, plunged in deep thought. Seeing the King, Raymond sprang to
his feet, and stopped him.

"Your Majesty, the Countess is ill; she expects to be delivered."

The King pushed him aside and entered.

There was silence in all the rooms. At the door of the chamber Augustus
heard the sound of a baby crying. Cosel, white as marble, exhausted by
suffering, and unable to utter a word, stretched forth both her hands
and pointed towards the infant. The King took it in his arms, and
kissed it. Then he sat down beside the bed, and covered his face with
his hands.

"Anna," said he, "the world will look on me with contempt, and will
cease to love me. Good fortune has deserted Augustus; I am conquered,
defeated!"

"Augustus," said Anna, sobbing, "I shall love you more than ever, now
you are unhappy."

"I need such a consolation," rejoined the King gloomily. "My enemies
pursue me, my allies are helpless. Every one bows to the victors. I am
indeed most miserable."

Thus an hour passed; the sick woman needed rest. The King left her, and
was speedily surrounded by generals and ministers, Flemming,
Fuerstenberg, Plug, Hoym, and others, who all rushed to him, terrified
at the calamities that had fallen upon Saxony. They all looked at him,
searching for traces of grief. But egotism had stifled all feeling in
him; so long as he himself was well, he cared nothing for the rest; he
did not even blush.

On the 15th of December Augustus disappeared. He, Plug, and one servant
rode to Leipzic to see Charles XII., for the King was convinced that if
his stern adversary saw the serenity of his face and the magnificence
of his apparel, he would grant him better terms.

There could not have been a greater contrast than that presented by
these two enemies. Charles XII. looked like a Puritan, Augustus like a
courtier of Louis XIV. They saluted with great cordiality, and kissed
each other. Their private conversation lasted for an hour, and by the
time it was ended Augustus looked pale and exhausted.

That day spent with Charles XII. weighed heavily on the King, and he
never spoke of it to any one. The following day Charles returned his
visit; the treaty, however, remained unchanged.

The year that followed was a very hard one for the King, who was
anxious to get rid of the Swedes, even at a great sacrifice. Augustus
spent many weary days, travelling between Altranstadt, Moritzburg, and
Leipzic, trying to obtain the ratification of the treaty.

Augustus and Charles met frequently, but the latter never wished to
talk about politics; his secretaries, Piper and Cedermhiolm, were for
that.

The treaty was eventually ratified, but still the Swedes did not think
of leaving the country.

Without counting the burden of the enemy camping in his country, the
poor King really had a great deal to do. He hunted, loved, and
entangled himself in the intrigues of his courtiers in order to forget
his own misery.

But from time to time his serenity was clouded by Cosel's outbursts of
jealousy.

One day during her confinement, as the King was sitting by her bedside,
a servant came with the news that letters of importance had just
arrived. Augustus wished to go and read them, but Anna, ill and
capricious, prevailed on him to stay with her, and to allow the
Secretary, Bose, to come to her chamber and read them. The King
yielding to her despotic wish, Herr Bose was introduced.

He began by making His Majesty such a profound bow that his wig touched
the floor. He paid the same mark of respect to the sick lady, who,
wrapped up in lace, looked like a pale pink rose among snow.

Herr Bose whispered to the King,--

"Urgent, from Warsaw."

They both went to the window. Cosel, who had caught the word Warsaw,
looked at the King's face intently, trying to read there the contents
of the papers. With great respect, Herr Bose handed the King letter
after letter. At first they were all large, and sealed with great
seals. Cosel did not budge, but remained with her head resting quietly
on both her hands.

Suddenly Bose whispered to the King, and handed him a small letter. The
King opened it, read it, smiled, blushed, and then glanced
involuntarily at Countess Cosel.

Anna was sitting up in bed.

"What is in that letter?" she asked.

"State business," replied the King.

"May I see it?"

"No!" said the King coolly, continuing his reading.

Anna's face flushed, and, forgetful of the Secretary's presence, she
sprang out of bed, and seized the letter. The King grew confused, and
looked at the old man, who was likewise greatly embarrassed. This
violent scene so surprised him that he knew not what to do.

Cosel devoured the letter with her eyes, and then tore it into
fragments. Her presentiments were correct; the letter was from
Henriette Duval, for whom the King had betrayed Cosel at Warsaw. She
had written to her royal lover, telling him that she had been delivered
of a daughter, who afterwards became the famous Countess Orzelska. The
mother ended the letter by asking what she was to do with the child.

"Drown her!" screamed Cosel.

The King laughed, Anna wept, Bose bowed and began a retreat towards the
door.

"Cosel, for Heaven's sake, be quiet," said the King, coming over to
her.

"What?" she screamed. "You dare to betray me; you to whom I consecrated
everything!"

It was not the first scene of the kind, but this time it lasted longer
than ever before. It was in vain that Augustus kissed her hands,
promising everything.

"What is it you wish me to do?" he exclaimed.

"If you write a single word to that impertinent woman, I shall take the
post, and go straight to Warsaw. I will kill both mother and child. I
swear I will!"

To pacify her, the King promised everything. He would have nothing
further to do with her; would forget her existence; would leave the
unfortunate woman to the caprice of fortune.




                               CHAPTER X.


No one would ever have known of that scene, for it was Bose's policy
always to keep his tongue behind his teeth, had not the weary King
gathered a few of his companions together, that he might find
distraction in their conversation. After drinking a second and a third
bumper, the King began to laugh and look towards Fuerstenberg.

"What a pity," said he, "that you did not bring those papers this
morning, instead of Bose; perhaps you would have made it up with Cosel
had you seen her as that old man had the good fortune to do."

"But the Countess has not yet left her bed," returned the Prince.

"She sprang from her bed, though, to tear the letter poor Henriette had
sent me, from my hand. She is so jealous, that I should not be
surprised if one day she were to shoot me."

Fuerstenberg looked round cautiously, that he might be sure that only
those who hated Cosel were present, then he said,--

"Your Majesty, if the Countess Cosel is so jealous, she should be
careful to give you no cause for jealousy."

The King slowly raised his head, frowned, thrust out his lips, and
replied coldly,--

"The person who dares to make such assertions should weigh his words
well, and carefully consider the consequences. You must explain
yourself."

The Prince glanced round at his companions.

"I am ready to justify my words. All of us here present have seen how
the Countess conducted herself during your Majesty's absence. The
palace was always full of guests and admirers, amongst whom the Count
Lecherenne enjoyed especial favour. Sometimes he was seen leaving the
palace about midnight."

The King listened with apparent indifference, but those who knew him
well, could see that the dart had stung him.

"It is the voice of jealousy speaking through you," said Augustus. "You
do not like Cosel, and you would be glad to see her shut up in one
room. Naturally she longed for my return, and required some
distraction, and you must allow that Lecherenne is amusing."

"Your Majesty," said the Prince, with well-feigned simplicity, "I had
no intention to be an informer. I enjoy your Majesty's favour, and I do
not care much about that of the Countess. But, being your Majesty's
devoted servant, I should be deeply grieved to see your great love
repaid with ingratitude."

Augustus looked gloomy. The wine cups were full, but no one raised one
to his lips; the conversation stopped, and the King rose.

Fuerstenberg understood that he had gone too far. Whenever Augustus
wished to get rid of a favourite, he was glad to hear something against
her. His anger on the present occasion was a proof that as yet Cosel
was not an object of indifference to him.

Not wishing to talk any more, Augustus nodded to his guests, and
retired to his chamber.

Fuerstenberg and the other courtiers regarded each other
sorrowfully--they feared the consequences of such a bold attack.

But an unseen witness had overheard the conversation; this was none
other than Zaklika, whom Countess Cosel had sent with a letter to the
King. Wearying of her solitude, she had written to the King, begging
him to come and see her, and had sent the faithful youth with the
message. No one save Zaklika was allowed to enter the room while the
King was merrymaking; unseen, he had entered the room, and stood behind
the great side-board, waiting until the conversation was ended to
deliver his letter. Thus he had overheard everything. The danger
threatening Anna gave him sufficient courage to leave the room without
handing the King the letter; he rushed back to his mistress's palace,
and tapped at the door of her chamber. She had just risen for the first
time. The moment he entered, she knew by his pale face that something
had happened.

"Speak!" she exclaimed. "Has something happened to the King?"

"No," replied Zaklika, and then he repeated all that he had heard.

Cosel listened, blushing, confused and offended; when he had finished,
she took the letter from him, and signed to him to withdraw. She left
her chamber and entered the drawing-room, the walls of which were
covered with pictures representing scenes in the life of the King. One
of them was a picture of the King's coronation.

As Cosel was gazing on it, her eyes filled with tears, steps were heard
approaching--it was Augustus. He walked quickly, and looked pale and
angry.

As though she had not noticed his entrance, Anna rose and approached
the picture.

"Well," said he angrily, "so you condescend to look at my portrait?
Surely it is a mistake? I cannot believe that I still receive such
honour."

"Your Majesty," replied Anna calmly, "it would be ridiculous to
suppose, that, being aware of all that makes you superior to other men,
any one else should attract my glance after you. The most frivolous
woman would be incapable of doing so. How could your Majesty have such
suspicions?"

"Yes," interrupted the King with trembling voice, "until to-day I
flattered myself, I thought--but appearances are deceiving, and the
caprices of a woman are in most cases difficult to understand."

The King's angry tones rejoiced Anna, for she was sure his jealousy
meant that he still loved her, but she pretended to be offended.

"I do not understand your Majesty," she said. "Will your Majesty please
to speak clearly, so that I may have a chance of justifying myself?"

"To justify," interrupted the King passionately, "there are some deeds
that cannot be justified. You wish to deceive me, but I have proofs."

"Proofs against me!" exclaimed the Countess, wringing her hands.
"Augustus! You torture me! Speak! I am innocent."

She threw her arms round his neck; he tried to push her away, but she
grasped his hand and began to weep.

"Have mercy upon me! Speak! Let me at least know why I suffer. Who has
dared to slander me?"

It took quite a long time to pacify the King, but her tears softened
him, and he made her seat herself beside him.

"Very well, then," said he, "I will tell you everything. Fuerstenberg
told me that the whole city was scandalized at your conduct towards
Lecherenne, whom you received every day, during my absence; he used to
spend whole evenings with you."

Cosel put on the air of an offended woman.

"Yes," she replied, "it is all true, Lecherenne is in love with me, but
I laugh at him. He amused me with his love, but I do not think I sinned
in listening to him. Your Majesty is mistaken in thinking that it is
enough for any one to be in love with me, to have my love in return.
But it is dreadful," continued she, wringing her hands again, "to think
that such a person as Fuerstenberg can shake your Majesty's faith in my
love."

She sank back on the sofa, weeping bitterly. The King was completely
disarmed; kneeling before her, he began to kiss her.

"Cosel, forgive me," he pleaded, "I should not be jealous, if I did not
love you. Fuerstenberg is the most poisonous snake at my court. Forgive
me! but I do not like your being even suspected."

Anna continued to weep.

"Sire," said she, sobbing, "remember that if you do not punish the
slanderers, they will soon attack your own person, which is so sacred
to us."

"Be content," replied the King. "I give you my word that I will not
suffer any one to slander you, my dearest."

Thus the scene ended. Cosel was obliged to promise that she would not
let Fuerstenberg know that she had learned of the accusation he had made
against her.

Thanks to Zaklika, Cosel was victorious.

The pacified King returned to his castle, but throughout the next
day he did not speak a word to Fuerstenberg. The Grand Master of the
court, Augustus Lecherenne, received an order to leave Dresden within
twenty-four hours.

This was such an unexpected blow to the young Count, that he was unable
to believe the tidings. He rushed immediately to see Countess Cosel.
When Zaklika went to announce his arrival to her, she blushed from fear
and uneasiness.

"Tell him," said she calmly, "that I cannot receive those whom the King
has banished--tell him, also," added she, lowering her voice, "that I
am sorry he has to go."

Saying this, she pulled from her finger a diamond ring that had been
given her by the King.

"Give him this ring from me," she whispered, turning her eyes away from
the faithful servant.

Zaklika turned pale.

"Countess," he ventured to say, in a muffled voice, "kindly excuse me,
but this ring is from the King."

Cosel, who could not brook the slightest contradiction, turned towards
him with a threatening glance and frowning brow.

"I do not ask you

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/37623