In a narrow street in the city of Halle, in the first floor of a modest house, a strange woman had for some time attracted the attention of the peaceful passers-by.
There she sat all day long, looking out at the sky, with unseeing eyes, and her mien, her great beauty, and the intense sadness of her face attracted a curious crowd.
No one in Halle knew the lady, but from her sadness they guessed she was very unhappy.
She never looked at the human faces; her gaze was fixed on space. Only when many people gathered and began to whisper, with curious looks at her, she started and left the window.
The door of her house was always shut; nobody visited her; a servant obtained her meals from a restaurant. Only from time to time a young, elegantly dressed man knocked at the door. He went in and stayed for a few moments; then he returned, sad. The students called him the lover of the beautiful unknown, although he did not look like it.
The beautiful mysterious lady--for every one believed her to be a lady--was the sole topic of conversation in Halle at that time.
The landlord and his wife, questioned by their friends, even the bribed servant, would not give a word of information about her. When questioned, they threw a frightened look round, and muttered something about not knowing anything.
Besides the curious, from time to time a soldier walked past the house, looking in at the windows; then a man, whose mien indicated that he had been a soldier.
That beautiful unknown lady was the Countess Cosel, but how terribly changed!
The latest incident had broken the spirit of the woman, filled her soul with fear, and driven away all hope. She was now sad and in despair, and continually crying. The vengeance that persecuted her was so implacable, that now she expected everything--even death.
In Berlin she was free--she could escape; in Halle she was a prisoner. Zaklika, who had accompanied her here, told her the next day that all the doors of the house were watched. She was still free, but she could not take a step. She wanted to go to church on Sunday, but, seeing that she was watched, she returned home. The landlord and his wife were very civil, but could not be trusted. The burgher had fox-like eyes, and his wife was pale and did not dare to speak a word.
Zaklika tried to make friends with them; they ran from him as from the pestilence.
A few days later the Chamberlain Von Sinen was announced. He came in sad, modest, and confused, as if he did not know what to say.
"With what do you come?" asked Cosel, "for I know that you do not come in sympathy, but by command."
"You are mistaken," answered Von Sinen. "It is both; I preferred to come myself rather than let any one else be sent here."
"Speak, then," said Cosel, "I am ready for anything."
"Were you only ready to have more resignation," said he, "everything could be repaired."
"What do they require from me?"
Von Sinen sighed.
"The King has sent me to ask you for the paper which he signed for you," said the Chamberlain.
"And he thinks that I shall surrender it, so that from a wife I shall become a mistress, whom he can dismiss whenever he likes." And she added, "If you have come only on that errand, then return and tell the King that Cosel will never sell her honour."
"Madam, for heaven's sake," said the Chamberlain, "do not be stubborn. If you return that paper, you can yet recover your freedom--everything."
"Augustus' heart is what I want," whispered Cosel. "But he has none in that breast glittering with diamonds; he is as cold as are the stones. I shall never get back that which is dearest to me--faith in mankind."
Von Sinen remained a couple of hours; but not being able to prevail upon her, he stayed in Halle several days, giving her plenty of time to think it over.
He visited her each day, trying to persuade her by all possible arguments; but she was persistent in her refusal.
"I shall not give back the paper," she repeated. "It contains the defence of my honour and my children's. I shall die, but he shall not have it."
The second day after Von Sinen's arrival, Cosel called Zaklika to her. He looked awful--pale, angry, and silent. When he looked at people, they shrank from that face full of hate, seeing in it a grief only looking for the opportunity to change into madness.
They could not talk long in the house, being surrounded by spies. Zaklika used to come and go as though he had business to do, carrying something out and then bringing it back. Only thus could they speak. Cosel said to him,--
"Do they watch you, too?"
"Not yet."
"You must leave me, and be entirely free."
Zaklika shivered and stared at her.
"I? Leave you? And what am I to do with myself? to what shall I devote my life? Then I can only die."
"No," said Cosel, "it is only the beginning of my imprisonment. You must be free in order to help me to get back my freedom."
Zaklika became thoughtful.
"Speak, then," said he after a while.
"You will know where I am. I trust you, you must think about means; you will try and free me. There are still a few thousands with Lehman; I will give you a word to him--you will take the money."
Zaklika was indignant that she should offer him money.
"It is not for you, but you must have it to free me."
She looked at him. He nodded obediently.
"In the first place, go and try to find out whether they will let you go; you may tell them that you do not wish to serve me any more. Do what you please. Carry in your breast my treasure that I entrusted to you. Do you understand me?"
She extended to him her trembling hand.
"Only you do I trust, for only in you is a human soul. Do not betray me, like the rest!"
"I?" exclaimed Zaklika, indignantly, and his eyes shone so fiercely that Cosel retreated. "I?" repeated he, trembling. "I can die, but not betray."
"Then you must be free, without arousing suspicion. Go!"
Zaklika went out, and he did not reappear until the next day towards evening, when he brought with him a new servant, and took his leave from his mistress.
Cosel had enough strength to play a scene of anger, for the landlord and his wife listened at the door.
He left the room, and went to an official complaining that Cosel did not want to let him go, to which he had right, for he was a Polish nobleman, therefore a free man.
The Prussian laughed, for he knew how many Polish noblemen had been caught by the Prussians, and obliged to serve in their army, but he did not say anything. Perhaps, had Zaklika not been so pale and looked so miserable, he would have forced him to accept service in the regiment of gigantic grenadiers, but Zaklika was looking wretched, and it would have cost much to feed him up.
Therefore they did not hesitate to let him go. He returned at once to Cosel, but, knowing that he had quarrelled, they did not listen to him again at the door.
"Go to Dresden," said Cosel, "and tell everybody that you have left me. Lehman will give you the money. Take it in gold. You will hear what becomes of me. If I am free, you will come to me; if not, help me to escape. If you arouse suspicion, and they would capture you, then destroy the paper I have entrusted to you, but do not give it to any one. Do not destroy it while you have any hope of escape; destroy it only at the last extremity, but they must know nothing about its destruction, so that they may be always in fear of its discovery."
She extended her hand to him. He kissed it and cried, but said not a word. Then Cosel wrung her hands, and exclaimed,--
"There are still some hearts!"
Zaklika went out as though intoxicated.
The next day, when Von Sinen came to see her, he found her more merry, more resigned and quieter. He thought that perchance she might return the paper, that she would have pity on herself, but he soon learned that he was mistaken. Cosel said to him when he entered,--
"I pity you. You will not gain the King's favours, my brave relation, Löwendahl will not care for you; Flemming will not make you drunk, and you will not get even a thousand thalers. I am so stubborn--mad! Is it not true?"
"Then all my efforts were in vain?"
"Yes," said she, taking a ring from her finger. "I pity you, my unsuccessful messenger, and I should like you to preserve a souvenir of my goodwill: accept this ring. It is no longer an agreeable souvenir for me, it makes me ache like a wound. Take it, pray!"
Von Sinen accepted the ring. He tried once more to persuade her, but Cosel laughed.
"Spare yourself the trouble and me the worry. I know your arguments, they will not persuade me."
Before leaving Halle, the Chamberlain came once again. He was sad, but did not say anything. Cosel was surprised at his return.
"I pity you so much," said he, "that I cannot refrain from telling you what you have to expect."
"I know that it is nothing pleasant," she interrupted, "but it would not change my determination. I shall not return the promise signed by the King. He was perfectly free to give it to me or not, but the King cannot ask for the return of his promise given to a woman, and thus cheat her. I cannot even suspect that it is the King's will. Such vile men as Flemming and Löwendahl might wish to get hold of it without the King's knowledge in order to make him pay for it. The King cannot ask it from me!"
She turned and left the room. The same day Von Sinen left Halle; he went away with a strange feeling. The first time he was sent to her, he fulfilled his duty with the cold blood of a diplomat; little by little the stability of this woman, her bravery, perseverance, character, made such a deep impression on him that he was ashamed of his rôle. He pitied her and felt humiliated.
He was going back more angry with those who sent him than with the unfortunate woman who had sent him away with such an unshaken bravery displayed in defence of her honour.
When he arrived at Dresden he had plenty of time for rest. The whole Court was making preparations for a great festival, which was going to be held at Moritzburg; they had not time to call him and ask him to report the result of his mission, and he did not hasten himself. He was glad that he could for at least a few days stay the decision of Cosel's lot, which he thought would be still worse.
Moritzburg was a hunting lodge, built not far from Dresden, in the woods. It was a charming little castle surrounded by old trees. The King invited the whole Court there, many foreigners, as well as his former favourites, the Princess Teschen, the Countess Königsmark, together with the Countess Denhoff and her sister Pociej.
The site of the entertainment was a plain where game was to be driven from the forest to be shot. Hard by was a lake on which boat races were to be held.
The crowd of guests was a great one; the entertainment succeeded perfectly, and as the guests did not retire to the tents prepared for them very sober, the next day they were obliged to hunt for wigs, shoes, and swords in the woods and bushes.
Von Sinen mixed with the crowd, and wandered here and there; all this amusement seemed to him wild. The King was in an excellent humour, and was very amiable to his dismissed favourites. The Countess Denhoff burned with jealousy when he talked with the Princess Teschen, Königsmark looked sneeringly at Denhoff when the King was chatting with her.
Augustus was entirely taken up with the illuminations and the magnificent feast, and when towards midnight everything was over, he sat down to drink with his friends.
Here they let their tongues go; Flemming, Vitzthum, and Frisen could talk as much as they wished, even about those ladies towards whom Augustus was respectful.
They passed in review all the gross and scandalous stories of the Court.
Löwendahl was sitting at the other end of the table.
"It seems to me," said the King to him, "that I have noticed Von Sinen."
"He has returned from Halle," answered the Marshal sourly, looking at the King.
"Von Sinen was sent to Cosel, what news has he brought?"
"The same as always," answered Löwendahl.
"You should have offered her anything she wished in exchange for that paper, even freedom."
"She said that she would not part with it."
Augustus frowned.
"One must have done with her once for all," added Löwendahl.
"Yes, to-morrow we will send a letter to the King of Prussia, asking for her extradition," said the King. "Then we will see what can be done."
"And where does your Majesty order her to be put in the meantime?"
"Let her be taken to Nossen Castle, perhaps she will think it over there. I cannot bear the daring war she has declared against me. I have had enough of it. Denhoff splits my head with her!"
Those words, spoken in a moment of anger and under the influence of wine, were seized upon and utilized the next day. Flemming reminded Augustus of them.
In the letter to the King of Prussia, asking for Countess's extradition, they gave as the reason daring speeches against Augustus, as well as a plot against his life. The public threat justified it. The letter was sent by a courier to Berlin.
King Frederick did not hesitate for a moment. Lieutenant Ducharmoi, of the regiment of the Prince of Anhalt-Dessau, was called by his order.
"You will go to Halle," said the King to him, "and there you will find the Countess Cosel. You will take her under escort, on your responsibility, and you will conduct her to the frontier of Saxony; there you will give her into the hands of a Saxon officer, who will give you a receipt."
Ducharmoi went immediately to Halle, where he found Cosel.
Although prepared for anything bad, she paled at the sight of an officer. Ducharmoi, after having saluted her, told her that he was commanded by the King to conduct her to the frontier of Saxony, where she would be delivered to the Saxon authorities.
She stood for a moment as if struck by a thunderbolt.
"What an injustice! What barbarity!" she exclaimed, and two streams of tears flowed down her cheeks.
From that moment she said not a word more.
They ordered her to pack her things, and put them in a hired carriage.
Ducharmoi offered her his arm, and she descended to her carriage without looking at anybody. The horses went off; the carriage being escorted by a detachment of Prussian cavalry. During the whole of the journey she gave no signs of life. At last the carriage stopped. Cosel shivered; through the window she saw the Saxon uniforms worn by a detachment of dragoons, who were to conduct her further. She called Lieutenant Ducharmoi, who approached her carriage. Then she emptied her pockets; she found a gold box and a beautiful watch, and handed them to the officer.
"Pray, take that as a souvenir from me."
Ducharmoi hesitated.
"I beseech you to accept," said she, "it must not become a prey to those horrid Saxons."
The money she gave to the Prussian soldiers. Then she drew the curtains again, without asking what they were going to do with her.
From the moment Cosel passed into the hands of the Saxon authorities imprisonment was likely at any time. She passed the night in Leipzig.
In the morning an official, wearing a little sword and a big wig, silently executing the orders he had received from his superiors, entered the room in which she had spent a sleepless night, crying. He brought the King's order, instructing him to examine all her things, and to take them away.
She looked at him contemptuously, and did not say a word. He sealed all her boxes, and took the papers and jewels; he searched in her trunks, but could not find that for which he was looking. This humiliating inquisition lasted a couple of hours.
Hardly had she been permitted to rest a moment after such moral torture, than she was ordered to again enter the carriage--not being told where they were going to conduct her.
A detachment of cavalry surrounded the carriage--they rode till the evening. Against the sky, burning with the setting sun, there appeared the walls and towers of a castle, and the carriage, passing through a narrow gateway, entered the courtyard.
The place was entirely unknown to her. The castle was empty and had been uninhabited for some time. A few men were standing at the door. They were obliged to conduct the weakened lady up the stairs leading to a room on the first floor. It was an old habitation, with small windows, enormous fireplaces, thick walls, without any comforts, and sparsely furnished with the barest necessities.
Cosel, thoroughly tired, threw herself on the bed.
She passed a sleepless night, tormented by horrid thoughts aroused by her imprisonment. The dawn was breaking, the sky was growing red-gold in the east, the servants still slept; only the guard pacing in the corridor broke the silence when Cosel rose and went to the window.
The view from it did not remind her of anything. In front of her there was a vast plain, stretching towards the blue of a far forest. Here and there rose clumps of trees; a few roofs could be seen, and from behind the green columns of smoke were rising.
The castle stood on an eminence, which descended sharply towards a village. On the right hand there was a highway bordered with willows. The road was deserted.
She did not know the country.
From the room she went softly to another, which was larger, in the middle of it stood an oak table, and against the walls a few benches and chairs. Over the fireplace there was a battered coat-of-arms, cut in the stone, of which there remained only the shield and helmet. Behind this room, and like it, vaulted, was a small round room in the tower, on the other side of the castle. From here one could see forests, hills, and villages, and here and there in the distance the towers of some knightly castle, built like an eagle's nest on a crag. Still the country was unknown to her.
In the room in the tower there was some furniture; an empty wardrobe stood against the wall, and on one of its shelves was an old Bible, worm-eaten and covered with dust. Cosel seized it, but the book slipped from her hands, and the yellow leaves scattered on the floor.
In that room there was an iron door, leading somewhere into the mysterious rooms of the castle, in which no living human voice was heard.
The day was breaking. The swallows flew round the windows. Cosel returned to her rooms. The women servants that accompanied her woke up and offered to serve her. She dismissed them. Having stayed her hunger with some warm milk, she went again to the window; she sat on the stone bench and began to look on God's world, although she had nobody in it. She turned her eyes on the road, where she noticed some vans, men, and herds--clouds of dust. But she soon tired of them and sat at a distance from the window.
The hours were long. At noon they brought her luncheon. One of the servants persuaded her to eat. Cosel went to the table, and, looking at the modest meal, began to cry. The luncheons at which she entertained the King were different!
Then again she went to the window and looked on to the road, not willing to avow to herself that she hoped to see some one there. She believed that Zaklika would seek her out.
But neither on that nor the following day did she see anything except shepherds, herds, and vans. No one looked at the castle. She wandered from window to window; but all round the country was quiet and deserted. Towards evening she perceived a small peasant boy picking flowers near the wall, and she threw him a piece of money that she found in her pocket, and, leaning out, she asked him the name of the castle. The boy muttered, "Nossen," and ran away frightened.
She did not know even the name, but she remembered to have heard it, and guessed she was in the vicinity of Meissen and Dresden. She again thought of Zaklika, but what could he do alone against walls, guards, and the King?
The third day she was looking on the road when towards noon she noticed a horseman. He was riding slowly from the direction of Dresden.
He dropped his reins and looked curiously round the country; he had raised his head towards the castle. He seemed to be looking for something. He wore a grey mantle, and she thought it was her faithful servant. She shivered, and began to wave her handkerchief.
The cavalier had also taken out his handkerchief, and, apparently wiping his forehead, made signs with it. It was indeed Zaklika. His mien and his movements were easily recognized, even from a distance. Her heart began to throb. He at least did not forget her; he could save her.
Riding slowly and looking at the castle, he disappeared behind the hill.
Zaklika had remained a few days in Halle and watched. He wanted to follow the Countess, but the Prussians ordered him to leave the country. He made his way to Dresden, where he went directly to Lehman.
The banker received him with evident fear; he locked the doors, and first asked him whether anybody had seen him. Being assured that Zaklika had not met any one in Dresden, Lehman breathed more easily. But he could not speak for quite a while, and when he began to speak, he seemed afraid of his own words.
"It is difficult to know," said he, "what was the cause of that, but now there will be no measure to her misfortune. The King is angry, and the King's anger is cold like ice. When some one offends him, he is inexorable. Cosel is lost."
Zaklika listened.
"Yes, she is lost!" continued Lehman. "When the King wrongs some one, he persecutes him, and will not let him appear in his presence. Cosel has refused to return to him that promise of marriage, and he will never forget that. They have confiscated her all. Löwendahl received orders to search for her money and jewels. Pillnitz is taken by the Treasury, and the other estate also."
Here Lehman approached Zaklika.
"They have taken everything from me too. The King sent for it. The books showed I had it; I could not refuse," he added.
"What! everything? But not that secret sum that the Countess told me to take from you?"
He took a paper that was sewn in his sleeve. The banker took it with trembling hands.
"And do you know," said he, "what would become of both of us if they seized that paper? They would send us to Königstein, and my children would become beggars. Flemming and Löwendahl would seize the pretext to look into my safe." And he trembled.
"Then you have given them that sum also?" said Zaklika, wringing his hands in despair.
Lehman looked at him for a long time; he seemed to be wrestling with himself.
"Listen," said he. "Swear to me upon that which you hold most sacred, that you will not betray me even should they threaten you with death--"
Here the Jew took from a drawer a diamond cross pawned by the Princess Teschen.
"Swear to me upon that," said he.
Zaklika took the cross, and, raising his hand, said quietly,--
"I swear!"
Then he added,--
"It was not necessary to ask me for an oath: my word as nobleman would be enough. Zaklika has never betrayed any one, and never will."
Lehman looked at him, and he was as white as a sheet.
"Suppose they should catch you and find money upon you?"
"In the first place the money might be mine; then the Countess may have made me a present of it."
"But they take everything that used to belong to her."
"They know that I never had anything, and they will not search me. You will give that money."
Lehman still hesitated.
"I may have misfortunes on account of you, but it must not be said that I did not help some one in misfortune."
He opened the safe, took out a bag, and began to count money on the table. Zaklika breathed again and wiped the perspiration from his forehead; then he sat thoughtful, leant on his elbows, and fell asleep from fatigue.
When Lehman had finished counting, he turned to him, and perceived that he had fallen asleep; only then did he understand what the silent man had suffered if at that moment he could sleep so soundly.
He went quietly to another room, and there he waited till Zaklika should awaken. He wished him to do so as soon as possible; for notwithstanding the pity he had for the man, he was afraid to have him in the house.
Zaklika, who had fallen asleep from fatigue, but in whom the soul was vigilant, woke up soon, and, almost frightened, jumped from his place. He rubbed his eyes; he was ashamed to appear so feeble.
He glanced at the money, put it in his money belt, and buckled it under his dress.
Lehman was waiting, and when Zaklika took his leave he came to him, and, placing his hand on his shoulder, said,--
"Only God knows whether we shall see one another again. I pity you, but I cannot stop you from an honest deed. You have noticed my hesitation, but you must remember that I live for my children. Now, listen to me. I had in my possession a great deal of money belonging to the Countess, and in our hands money increases rapidly. Our account is closed; I have paid everything; but in the case of such misfortune a man should reckon differently; therefore, take this with you, and may God lead you."
He took a bag, and, handing it to Zaklika, said,--
"From this moment you do not know me. I do not know you either."
"It is for her," said Zaklika, shaking hands with him.
"Go through the garden," said the Israelite.
Zaklika was too well known in the city to show himself. He had left his horse in a suburb, at the house of his friend, a Wend. During his wanderings he had been struck by the similarity of the language to his own, as he listened to these Slavs talking. Speaking a similar language, he soon struck up acquaintances among them. The name of the fisherman with whom Zaklika became acquainted was Hawlik. He had a piece of land reaching to the bank of the river, but as the soil was not very good, Hawlik was not a farmer, but gained his living by fishing. Year in year out he lived his life in poverty and sorrow.
Zaklika often used to visit him, and they both chatted of their misery. The Wend remembered better times. "All around us used to belong to our people," said he, "but the Germans squeezed us out by different tricks, and now it is dangerous even to speak our own tongue. They do not give us any chance in the cities; it is enough to be a Wend to be pushed out. Our number decreases, but there is no help for it. It seems to be God's will."
Every time that Zaklika wanted not to be seen in Dresden he went to Hawlik, where he put up his horse and slept in the attic, and where he was always welcome to partake of the modest repast. They were glad to see him now also. They never asked him any questions--what was he doing or what had he come for.
Zaklika went to them to spend that night, much troubled whether it would be safe for him to show himself in the city and get some news; he was afraid of being arrested. Early in the morning, having wrapped himself up carefully in his mantle, he went across the bridge to Narrenhaus. He expected to meet Fröhlich as he went to the castle, and learn something from him. In order to be sure of not missing him, he sat on the steps of the fool's house and waited. Fröhlich, dressed in his pointed hat and adorned with silver key, coming out of his house, noticed a man sitting, and, not recognizing Zaklika, exclaimed,--
"Hey! Do you take my house for a hostelry?"
Zaklika turned; the fool recognized him.
"What is the matter with you?" he exclaimed. "You look as if you were married."
"I have returned from a journey."
"You are a Catholic, then you must have been in purgatory?"
"I wandered through the world," answered Zaklika. "But tell me what is going on here?"
"You wish me to be a historiographer," laughed the fool. "You had better ask what is not going on."
"Do you know what has become of my former mistress?" asked Zaklika.
"I do not know who was your mistress."
"The Countess Cosel."
Fröhlich looked round and put his fingers on his lips.
"Who pronounces that name?" said he. "There is nothing to laugh at, and you know that I live by laughter."
"But you can tell me at least what has become of her?"
"Then you do not know? Where have you been?"
"Far."
"I think that even afar they talk about that. That woman in whose slavery our lord was, it seems, is now imprisoned by him, and her captivity will last longer than her domination."
"And where is she?" asked Zaklika.
"They say that she is in Nossen Castle, but to be sure they will build something finer for her," laughed the fool by habit, but sadly. "No! I would not like to be a woman. Speaking frankly, it is not much comfort to be a man either. If I had my choice, I would like to be a donkey. Nobody eats donkey's meat, his skin is thick, and when long-ears begins to sing, everybody runs away and leaves him alone. If one adds that he has always a good appetite, and that he can live on old broom, one sees that there is no happier being in the world."
"Nossen! Nossen!" repeated Zaklika thoughtfully, having forgotten about the fool.
"I am talking about an ass, and you about Nossen! Do not prattle about sad things, and good-bye!"
Fröhlich, having put the official smile on his lips, went away. Zaklika returned to Hawlik, from whom he learned where the castle was; and he started in its direction the same day.
He was very glad that Cosel had noticed him coming, for he knew that he would bring her some consolation.
He went to the inn in the village, where he assumed the rôle of a buyer of skins, and thus, while apparently going round on business, had plenty of time to learn all about the castle. The building was old, and Cosel's guard was composed of a few old men. They did not let any one in, but they did not watch her very strictly. The windows were very high, and nobody thought that an escape could be accomplished through them; consequently there were no sentries. The soldiers spent their time smoking pipes in the courtyard, and at Cosel's door.
In the rear of the castle one could approach the windows very easily.
In order to have a good pretext for longer sojourn at the inn, Zaklika simulated being unwell. The innkeeper was glad of it, for he had to feed the horse as well as take care of the man.
At supper he learned that they had brought to the castle the lady who attempted the King's life, as well as how many soldiers guarded her. Two women servants, a cook, and a boy composed the whole court of this lady who formerly was surrounded by a crowd of servants dressed in cloth of gold.
They were telling wonders about the prisoner.
Zaklika remained a couple of days without raising any suspicion, and as he gave a couple of thalers to the innkeeper on account of skins, he felt more assured, and one day he went out towards noon to look at the castle. He convinced himself that from one side, where was the forest, he could steal through the undergrowth near to the walls; but he could not find out whether there were any windows from Cosel's room on this side. He proposed to see that later.
Towards evening he returned to the inn, drank the bears'-fat recommended to him by the innkeeper, and went to bed, thinking how he could deceive the German and remain longer in the inn without exciting suspicion.
The next morning, as Zaklika was drinking warmed beer in the common room, there entered, with a great noise, three soldiers from the guard of the castle.
Zaklika immediately recognized them as soldiers whom he had seen in Dresden, and one of them began to look at him attentively.
"Well," said the soldier, leaning on the table, "I seem to know you."
"To be sure," answered Zaklika, "for I was a long time in service at the Court, till I took to business."
"Ah! you are the man who breaks horse-shoes!" exclaimed the soldier.
"Yes, I could even stop an ox by taking it by the horns; but now I don't know whether I could do the same even with a sheep."
The soldier saluted him smiling. Zaklika called for beer for him, and they became friends.
"We are now doing penance," said the soldier. "We are in Nossen watching a petticoat! It is frightfully dull there."
"They might at least have given a few pretty girls to the Countess," said another soldier.
"How long are you going to stay here?"
"Who knows? And it is so dreadful to have nothing to do."
"Why don't you play cards?" said Zaklika.
"With whom? And then we don't have much money."
He gaped, and drank the beer.
When they started to return to the castle, Zaklika accompanied them to the gate, then, still talking, he entered the courtyard and the corridor.
The other soldiers were not surprised at the newcomer; on the contrary, they were glad he came. They began to chat together. They found cards, and won from him two thalers. This pleased them very much. As he was going, he expressed a wish to see the castle, and nobody objected to it. The officer was in the town, playing the guitar to a butcher's daughter.
He was not able, however, to do anything more that day.
Zaklika stayed on, pretending that he was not well, purchased skins, and looked about for a way of stealing into the castle. They did not suspect him, but the difficulties were great from the position of the castle. The part of the castle in which the Countess was imprisoned adjoined the empty portion of it. There the old steward and his family were living. Through the soldiers, Zaklika became acquainted with him. He was avaricious, and had a large family. Treating him with beer, Zaklika learned from him which way the windows of the Countess's rooms looked out, and also that the iron door of the tower, of which the steward had the key, led to a large empty hall. Zaklika told him he was very fond of old buildings; but to this the steward made no answer. Another day they were talking about the Countess, and Zaklika tried to arouse pity for her in the steward. They looked at one another--the steward was silent again.
"The Countess," said Zaklika, "has still many friends at Court, and some of them think that she will return to the King's favour. I would not be surprised if some of them appeared here one day and offered you a handsome sum of money for a moment's conversation with her."
The steward muttered something.
"What would you do in that case?" asked Zaklika.
"It would be a devilish temptation," answered the steward. "I would do as Luther did, I would throw the inkstand at the devil!"
But he smiled.
"Suppose someone should offer you thirty thalers?" asked Zaklika.
"For thirty thalers they would hang me," laughed the steward.
"But it is not a crime to let the Countess talk for a few minutes with a friend. However," continued Zaklika, "we are talking just in fun; but I am sure just the same that someone would give you even fifty thalers."
The steward looked at him with wide-open eyes and stroked his beard. The thought of getting fifty thalers intoxicated him.
"If you know someone who would give me fifty thalers, then tell him to come and see me," answered the German.
"Here he is," answered Zaklika.
"I thought so."
"Conduct me to the empty hall when the women are not with the Countess; I shall not be long with her."
"Were it not for the women everything could be done very easily. Unfortunately, they are with the Countess by turns."
"Tell your wife to invite them."
"No, a woman should not know about anything."
"Yes," said Zaklika; "but she can invite them without knowing why."
The consultation lasted quite a while, and they agreed that at the next opportunity the steward should let Zaklika see the Countess.
One day, as she was in her chamber, she heard a knocking at the iron door of the tower. With throbbing heart she rushed there and knocked at it too. At that moment the door opened and Zaklika appeared.
"I have only time to tell you that I am in the vicinity, and that I will do anything to come to your rescue."
"Help me to escape!" said Cosel.
"It is impossible just now," said Zaklika; "at least it requires a great deal of time. You must rely upon me--I will do my best. Drop a cord from the window in the tower, and I will attach a paper with the news to it, for it will be impossible for us to see one another."
The steward began to grow impatient. Zaklika slipped into the Countess's hand a bag of money, and whispered,--
"You must bribe one of the servants. I am at the inn called 'The Golden Horse Shoe.'"
The door was shut, for the women might come at any moment, but the Countess grew hopeful.
Zaklika, that poor servant, on whom she hardly deigned to look from the height of her majesty, had not betrayed her.
The steward took the fifty thalers with unconcealed joy. He was glad of the opportunity of making some money, and from that time it was he that ran after Zaklika, who had already conceived a plan to free the Countess.
The next day the steward showed him the castle, and during this visit Zaklika noticed that there was a door in the wall near the road; it was encumbered with stones, but they could easily be cleared out.
But it was not enough to leave the castle, it was necessary to have the means of gaining the frontier and finding a hiding-place that could not be easily discovered by Augustus' spies. Zaklika thought that if he could cross Silesia and reach Poland, they could hide there, for he knew that the Saxon, as they called Augustus in Poland, had many enemies.
To purchase horses and hire people for the flight was a difficult task in Saxony, where the King had many spies.
The next day Zaklika attached a paper to a string, telling the Countess that he was going away to make preparations for her escape. Before going away, he had a conversation with the steward, hinting to him that there might come an opportunity for him to earn not fifty, but a thousand thalers.
"With a thousand thalers you could go quietly into the Rhine provinces and live there with your family in your own house."
The old man did not say a word, only nodded.
Having drunk lots of beer with the soldiers in saying farewell, he told them he would come back for the skins, and that he was going to Dresden.
After his departure, Cosel was in a fever, waiting for news. Every day she rushed to the window and drew up the string. She did not think of difficulties; it seemed to her that the man ought to free her immediately when she had told him to do so. In the meantime, she decided to bribe one of the servants.
Both of them were gloomy and unfriendly, but the younger was more accessible. She would talk a few words at least with her every day. Cosel was in the habit of treating every one in a queenly manner and assuring them of her favour. She was always majestic, thinking that she was the King's wife. But little by little she assumed a more gentle manner with the young servant Madeleine. She could not, however, make her friendly till she began to complain of the older one. The money acted still better, but a month passed before she could count upon her.
Zaklika had not returned. He could not act quickly, for this reason, that he was known in Dresden, and the purchase by him of a carriage and horses would arouse suspicion. Therefore a great amount of cunning was necessary to purchase what he needed without attracting attention. Through the Wend he made some acquaintances in Budzishyne, and there he worked out his plans.
It took a good deal of time, however, and the autumn passed by and winter came, and it was the worst time of the year for flight. Zaklika went to Nossen in order to ask Cosel to be patient until the spring. The steward was paid to open the door, at which Madeleine kept watch, and they were able to talk freely and come to an agreement that they would try to fly in the spring. There was no doubt that the steward, tempted by the money, would give in.
The winter was long, and such kind of enterprises, when they drag, are apt to furnish a chance for repentance on the part of those who help to accomplish them. The steward, being tipsy on one occasion, said something about it to his wife; the rest she got out of him. The shrewd woman thought that when one betrays it is better to betray everybody, and take all possible benefit out of it. According to her opinion they should agree to take the money from Zaklika, and then communicate the plan to the authorities in order not to lose their position, and thus not be obliged to fly into another country.
The steward smiled at the shrewd idea of his cunning wife. They awaited the spring.
The Countess was so sure of Madeleine that she told her all about it, and asked her to go with her. The woman became frightened at the idea. She wrestled with herself. Under the pretext of seeing her family, she asked permission to go to Dresden. She had a sister in the service of Countess Denhoff--she went to see her. The women consulted each other and agreed that it would be best to tell the Countess's mother of the plans of Cosel, for which act they were sure to be well rewarded.
The fear of the women may be imagined when they learned that Cosel could escape. Löwendahl was called up at once. The first step was to arrest both women. The same day a double guard of soldiers went to Nossen to replace those that were there. They doubled the sentries, arrested the steward, and led him in chains to Dresden.
During the night sentries were placed under the windows. In the morning Cosel found in the anteroom an unknown officer, who, accompanied by an official, searched all her things and inspected the doors and locks.
She was angry, but did not dare to ask any questions, being afraid that Zaklika might be detected and arrested. Happily nobody here knew him by his name, for he had taken precautions to assume another.
They found no proofs of the proposed escape, for she had destroyed the paper written by Zaklika; but from that time life in Nossen became unbearable. New servants were sent, who treated the Countess with great severity. She defended herself only with pride and silence.
When the official had left the room, the young officer, having a more tender heart than the others, said to her,--
"I am sure the Countess does not remember a lad whom she has seen many times as the King's page. I am here on a sad duty, and I came here only to spare you some suffering if I can. You must try not to make your position worse."
Cosel looked at him proudly.
"If you wish to prove to me your sympathy," she said, "tell me then what they have discovered and how."
"I do not know the details," said the officer. "The orders were given by Marshal Löwendahl. They have changed the garrison and the servants; the steward of the castle is arrested."
"And who besides?"
"Nobody else, besides the servants, I believe," answered the officer. "I will come to see you every day. I shall be very severe in the presence of the servants, but I will do anything to please you."
He saluted and went off.
A few days passed by in fear and uncertainty. Zaklika, having learned in Dresden that the plan of escape was discovered, kept quiet, waiting to see if they would try to arrest him. He understood that he could not show himself near Nossen, and in the meantime he felt it would relieve the Countess if she knew he was still free and that she could count on him.
In consequence he dressed as a beggar and stole at nights to the castle. During the day, lying in the thickets, he noticed that the string was not at the window, and that a sentry was beneath it. Communication with the Countess was therefore very difficult, and he racked his brains how he could do it. Wandering through the country, notwithstanding the snow and cold, he met a pedlar named Trene selling various wares for Christmas. He had a small van which he used to draw to an inn, to which the women came to make their purchases, while to the houses of the richer people he carried the goods himself.
Zaklika had known this pedlar in Dresden. He stopped him and reminded him that he used to make purchases from him at the Wend's house.
"In Nossen," said Zaklika, "you can do good business, for in the castle the Countess Cosel is imprisoned. I am sure she will purchase some presents for the servants."
The pedlar's eyes sparkled.
"Thank you for the advice," said he. "I never should have thought of it."
"When you are there," said Zaklika, "remember me to her, for I was in her service formerly."
"What shall I tell her?" asked the pedlar.
"Tell her that her servant who used to break horseshoes is free, and wanders throughout God's world. Where are you going from Nossen?" asked Zaklika.
"I think home, for Christmas is not far off, and I would like to spend it with my family."
"Then perhaps we shall meet on the road."
The pedlar, like all sellers when it is a question of gain, knew how to act. When he came to the town he went straight to the castle. The soldiers wanted to drive him away; but he raised such a din that the officer came out. He was more indulgent, and sent to the Countess, asking her whether she would admit a pedlar. For distraction's sake Cosel consented.
The modest wares of the poor pedlar did not satisfy her refined taste, and she was looking contemptuously at them, when Herr Trene whispered to her,--
"I was asked to tell you that your faithful servant, the horseshoe-breaker, is in good health, and wanders free through God's world."
"Who told you this?" asked Cosel.
"He himself," answered Trene. "I met him in the neighbourhood."
When the Countess had heard those words she purchased a lot from him, and the pedlar was surprised at his good luck. He left the castle happy. He also did good business in the inn, and was obliged to stay overnight. The next day he met Zaklika on the road to Dresden. He greeted him cordially.
"Did you tell her about me?" asked the Pole.
"Yes," answered Trene, "and evidently the Countess was pleased. I did good business. I thank you."
In the meantime the prisoners were questioned in Dresden. The steward was intelligent enough not to avow anything whatever, and they released him; but he lost his position. The women were released too, but not rewarded.
The King ordered that Cosel should be watched carefully. He knew her too well, and was aware that she could be dangerous. When he learned of the plan for escape, he ordered Stolpen Castle to be prepared for her. It was a stronghold, built on basalt rock; the same which Cosel had once visited with the King, and it was while riding there that she met the Slav woman, Mlawa, who foretold her future.
At once orders were sent to Stolpen to furnish the St. John's tower, in which the Bishop of Meissen used to imprison refractory priests. Augustus was offended and angry. The unconquered will of a woman mocked his might; a woman dared to ask him to keep his promise, and accuse him of breach of faith. It was unpardonable daring; and whoever drew the lord's anger upon himself, for him there was no mercy.
Two days before Christmas there was a great stir in Nossen Castle. There was sent from Dresden another detachment of soldiers and a carriage, with the King's order to transport Cosel to Stolpen.
The surprised officer did not dare to enter the Countess's room with the new order, which announced to her a still harder lot.
Cosel, hearing an unaccustomed noise, rushed to the door. She still hoped at times that Augustus, whom she had not ceased to love, would have pity on her, and she thought that as a Christmas present he had granted her freedom. She stood trembling when an official entered and bowed to her profoundly. The apparition of the scribbler was the worse message for her. He was holding a paper in one hand, spectacles in the other; he was trembling too.
"What do you wish?" asked Cosel.
"I have brought an order signed by His Majesty the King, who has kindly designated Countess Cosel Stolpen Castle as her place of abode."
The Countess rushed screaming towards the wall as though she would tear it down. The servants tried to hold her, but she pushed them away vigorously with cries and moans. The official stood by as if turned to stone.
They were obliged to conduct her by force to the carriage, in which she was taken to Stolpen, and lodged in St. John's and Donat's towers, on the 25th of December, 1716.