Old Stolpen Castle was then in a half-ruined condition. The summits of its towers had been destroyed by lightning, and the old building would hardly shelter a small garrison. The commandant of the castle, Johan Friederich von Wehlen, occupied one of the uncomfortable towers; the other, called Johannisturm, was destined for the unfortunate favourite of Augustus.
The former inhabitant of luxurious palaces was now obliged to be satisfied with two rooms, one of which was intended as the kitchen, the second for the Countess herself.
When she looked round this bare and dreary room, lighted by small windows, she gave way to despair, and continued to weep so bitterly that they were obliged to watch her continually. Her guards and servants, specially chosen that they could not be bribed, stood motionless at the sight of such an outburst of grief.
Wehlen, an old soldier, who never made war against women, lost his head and patience. It was a hard thing for him to be severe on this unfortunate, but still beautiful woman. The first day of Christmastide, celebrated with such solemnity throughout the world, was spoiled for him by the scene of despair. The sentries walking under the walls were afraid of the crying and screaming of that unfortunate lady.
She spent the whole night in this way, till finally she fell upon the bed, half-dead from exhaustion. The women whispered that she would die. The third day Cosel rushed from the bed and asked for some paper; she wanted to write to the King.
They had foreseen this wish, and the order was for all her letters to be sent to Löwendahl. Augustus had strictly forbidden any communication to be brought him from Cosel, and ordered her correspondence to be burned; but she was not forbidden to write and to have some hope. Cosel still believed in Augustus' heart.
When the first outburst of despair had passed, she looked around and recognized the walls which had frightened her so much when she visited them with the King. From the windows she could see the thick high walls surrounding the castle, and in the distance the blue mountains covered with woods, bare hills, and the country which looked as if it were uninhabited.
This made her the prey to solitude, reminiscences, watching the soldiers, harassing the servants who were at the same time her guards and executioners.
Wehlen had received the strictest orders to watch her carefully, a responsibility which in those days might cost him his own life. Those who wrote the instructions, it is true, had recommended politeness towards the woman; but the watchfulness must be so strict as to destroy all hope of flight. At first glance such a thing as flight seemed impossible. The castle was surrounded by high walls; the St. John's tower was strong, and it had been lighted by so many windows that the sentries walking beneath them could see what the prisoner was doing. Two courtyards had to be crossed before the tower could be reached.
At the gateway were sentries; the castle was on a high mount dominating the country, every one approaching it could be seen.
There was nobody except the commandant, two officers, a handful of soldiers, and the Countess's servants in the castle. Nobody could enter it without the commandant's special permission, and the gates were always shut.
Old Von Wehlen, who had never seen the Countess, and concluded that the King did not care for her because she was old, was amazed when he set eyes on her for the first time. Cosel was then thirty-six years of age, and God had granted her eternal beauty and strength. Her face bore no traces of suffering, and perhaps she was never more charming than then. The brightness of her eyes, the freshness of her complexion, her majestic figure, and statuesque shape, made those who looked at her wonder. In cynical disdain, and as if sneering at her present position, Cosel assumed the manners and speech of a queen. She gave her orders, and in her voice there was pride in proportion to her misfortune.
The days were long, weary and monotonous. Cosel filled them with memories and sometimes with hope. She cursed Augustus' cruelty, but she could not understand how the one who had loved her so tenderly could become such a terrible executioner.
The letters that she wrote became by habit a necessity. By the silence she knew that it was in vain, but at the same time she felt better when she had committed her thoughts to paper, which could be only scorn for other people.
When they had packed up her things in Nossen, some one had picked up the old Bible, and the Countess was constantly reading its pages, in which so many sorrows are expressed. Those stray leaves aroused in her the desire to read the whole book. She sent to the commandant to buy a Bible for her. He asked permission from Dresden; they ordered her desire to be gratified; and from that time the Bible was constantly on her table. In reading it she found, if not consolation, at least forgetfulness. From it she learned that for thousands of years life had been constant torture.
Thus she found the spring! The spring, which awakes everything to life, was only going to prolong her sufferings. The swallows came to the old nests to repair them again; the trees began to open their buds towards the sun. Over the earth there blew a warm air, mingled with the scent of flowers. Even around the castle some life appeared; the ploughmen went freely to the fields--she alone could not move. Cosel used to stay at the window for hours deep in thought, and did not notice that a soldier, astonished at her beauty, would often look at her, and ask himself what this angel-like woman could have done to merit imprisonment. Old Von Wehlen, smoking his pipe on the ramparts, looked also at her windows, and his thoughts were bitter; his heart heaved, for he felt that he loved his lord Friederich Augustus less.
He pitied her. The space in which she could walk consisted of a small room in the tower, which the sun could not warm.
At the foot of the St. John's tower there was a piece of land, surrounded by the wall of the fortress--enough space for a comfortable grave. In that corner there grew wormwood, wild thyme and wild pinks. Wehlen thought it could be turned into a little garden; but to make the garden, permission would be necessary, for it would make it pleasanter, and to show pity for the rebellious woman would mean to make her bolder. Consequently he made a garden for himself, thinking that the Countess would at least look on the flowers.
Cosel looked from the window, and noticing that they were digging, she withdrew, thinking that they were making a grave. Only when, after some time, she perceived some flowers there, she smiled at them.
It seemed to her that if, instead of sitting on the stones, she could rest on the earth, she would revive. The flowers could be her confidants and companions; but considering herself a queen, she could not ask for it--she preferred to suffer.
At last, considering that she could not escape from it, old Wehlen told the servant to tell the Countess that she could go there. And when one morning she went down to see her garden, the air seemed to intoxicate her; she was obliged to lean for a while against the wall.
From that time she used to spend whole days in the garden, taking care of the flowers, which she planted herself then.
Thus passed the spring and summer without any change or hope. There was no answer to her letters; nobody came to see her. Out of an immense fortune taken from her, they paid her about three thousand thalers, which she could use as she pleased; but the commandant controlled all her expenses, and she could not transact any business without his knowledge.
Since coming to Stolpen she had been waiting for Zaklika; but month after month passed, and there was no news from him. Once, however, a Jew pedlar, who used to bring her different things, whispered to her that the one who used to break the horseshoes was still alive, and that she should see him. Those few words were sufficient to awaken in her a slumbering hope.
In the meantime Zaklika was working constantly. His plans of facilitating the escape of the Countess from Nossen being ruined, he was obliged to begin anew. He knew that Cosel was imprisoned in Stolpen.
This cruelty they tried to justify by spreading reports that Cosel, when in Berlin, had tried to plot against the King's life, that she had threatened to kill him, that she was mad, and called herself a queen. And they ended in whispers that Augustus was ashamed of the levity with which he had given her a promise of marriage although the Queen was living. That promise, notwithstanding all efforts, they could not find or get back. It was the first time that Augustus had acted with such cruelty, and it frightened even the Countess Denhoff, although she could not flatter herself that she was much loved by the King.
It was true that her court was quite brilliant, but her following had no political weight. Even those who had helped her to rise, in order to get rid of Cosel, kept away from her. Watzdorf alone, who thought through her to overthrow Flemming, was attached to her, and served her by asking the King for considerable sums of money, which she squandered lavishly, sometimes spending 10,000 thalers on a ball. She was then already not counting on the King's long-continued favours, and she looked after Bosenval and the young Lubomirski, who seemed to be fond of her.
Augustus' cold and sometimes cruel treatment of his best favourite warned the others to be armed against the caprices of their lord, who could take everything from them. Thus Hoym, the Countess Cosel's ex-husband, whom the King needed but did not like, remembering the fate of Beichling, Imhoff, and even his ex-wife, had sold his estate in Saxony, sent away the money, and, resigning from the Saxon service, had retired to Silesia.
With Denhoff the reign of omnipotent King's favourites was ended. The actors of those comedies and dramas grew old and died out. The King himself lost his taste for noisy amusements. Leipzig fair alone could distract and animate him for a while.
Zaklika had been for a long time thinking of the best means to help Cosel. He did not know Stolpen; he went to see it. He could stop safely in the town, for they paid no attention to travellers. Here he learned everything--who was the commandant of the castle, and that it was difficult to get in.
Zaklika racked his brains to find a way, and he returned to Dresden with the determination to act openly. He had plenty of acquaintances from former times, but no friends. In the meantime, however, there came some lords from Poland, through whose influence he might do something. Zaklika thought that the best way would be to try to enter the military service, and be sent to the garrison at Stolpen. The way was long and difficult, but Zaklika had an iron will and boundless self-sacrifice. With the Polish lords his old name was of itself a good recommendation.
When he appeared at the Court, they were quite surprised, for they knew he had been with Cosel; but no one asked him what he had been doing since her downfall. Zaklika told every one that he had been in Poland for some time. When the Bishop of Cracow, Sieniawski, came to Dresden, Zaklika decided to try through him to purchase a grade of captain in the Saxon army.
On the Bishop mentioning Zaklika's name to the King, Augustus frowned, but ordered him to be called. He had not seen him for several years, and found him greatly changed. He looked at him suspiciously, but finding him bold but quiet, and learning that he left the Countess of himself, he raised no objection to his entering the army. The only question was to purchase the commission, which he soon was able to do. Zaklika had saved some money; he soon concluded the bargain with the German, and once again he wore a uniform, still more magnificent than before.
Great disorder reigned in the Saxon army; sometimes officers did not see their regiments for years; they preferred to remain in the capital, and boast before the women about their marvellous bravery. They did not respect orders, and led a dissipated life. All that was the worst in the country served in the army; adventurers, gamblers, usurers, blacklegs. The generals lived on the soldiers, and the latter, being driven to despair, and following the example of their officers, lived as they could.
Such disorder was favourable to Zaklika for carrying out his plans with money, and it was not difficult, having become acquainted with comrades, to find the way to replace some one in the garrison of Stolpen, which was considered a horrid prison.
Old Wehlen being, as he learned, a quiet and a good man, continually playing draughts and smoking tobacco, would not be difficult to deceive.
Cosel was greatly astonished when, after several long months of waiting, the pedlar Jew announced to her that the horseshoe-breaker would appear again.
Another spring appeared, and for the second time the garden became green; then the same flowers raised their heads towards the sun. Cosel opened the window; the day was warm; the air quiet and mild.
While sitting in her little garden she could see the soldiers and officers passing through the courtyard, from which she was separated by a low wall. The proud lady did not like her fallen grandeur to be looked at, but, being weary, she was glad sometimes to see a human face, forgetting that she was queen. And sometimes a soldier stood looking at her with commiseration, and the younger officers lost their heads when they looked for long into her burning black eyes.
One of those who walked very often in the neighbourhood of the garden as a pretext for approaching the beautiful woman was young Wehlen, nephew of the commandant. The old man kept him for two reasons; to have a partner for his game of draughts, and to look after his military career.
Henry von Wehlen did not like the service, but his mother, wishing him to be made heir by the commandant, who was an old and rich bachelor, persuaded her son to obey him. This twenty-year old Wehlen found life terribly dull on the basalt rock of Stolpen, but could not escape from it.
What bliss, then, for the young man dreaming in solitude was the arrival of such a beautiful if unhappy prisoner! At the first sight of Anna, Henry lost his head. He could not understand how they could keep such an ideal of an earthly goddess between walls, and let her die little by little. With the ardour of first, pure, exalted, but concealed love, young Wehlen was attracted towards the beautiful woman. The old commandant did not notice these sentiments in his nephew. He was the most prosaic of men, and did not care for feminine beauty. Formerly he had a smile for them all, but now for none of them.
It was Henry who had carefully suggested to him to permit the Countess to enjoy the garden. Very often acting as lieutenant to his uncle, he was practically master of the castle, and Cosel knew well that she could count on him, although she seldom deigned to look at him. She preferred to wait for Zaklika.
How great was her surprise and pleasure one day, on going into the garden, to perceive Henry Wehlen and Zaklika in the courtyard, talking quite amicably. The latter she recognized by his voice, for the uniform altered his appearance very much. She could hear the loud conversation; Zaklika was telling him that he succeeded Captain Zitaner, who was in a great hurry to visit his family.
"Captain von Wehlen," said Captain von Zaklika, "it is not very cheerful staying here among ruins. Had I known it was such a horrid place--"
"It is a bad place," answered Henry von Wehlen, "for those who want merry-making; but those who are fond of beautiful nature can live here very happily."
Cosel listened, but she turned away in order not to betray the interest she was taking in the conversation.
"Captain von Wehlen," said Zaklika, "if it could be done, you should introduce me to the Countess."
"With great pleasure," said Wehlen, who was glad to have a pretext for approaching the Countess.
They both went towards the wall of the garden. Captain von Wehlen saluted the Countess.
"Permit me to introduce to you Captain von Zaklika, newly arrived."
Cosel turned, apparently with indifference, and bowed slightly to the new-comer, who stood pale, full of emotion, looking at that beautiful face, still alight with the same charm which first shone for him under the linden trees in Laubegast.
After a moment of silence the Countess said,--
"Are you here on a visit?"
"No, madam, I am on service, which I daresay will last quite a long time, for I doubt whether anybody would care to exchange with me."
"It is surely the worst prison any one could find," exclaimed the Countess. "In a dark room the world is unseen, and so forgotten; but here the whole vast horizon lies before one's eyes, separated only by a big wall."
The officers stood speechless.
"What have you done that they send you here?" added the Countess.
"It is the caprice of destiny."
Then they saluted and went off.
Wehlen took Zaklika's arm, and conducted him into the third courtyard of the castle, where he occupied a couple of rooms, and where he also wanted to lodge his new comrade.
"Captain von Zaklika," said he, "I am sure this is the first time you have seen the Countess Cosel. What do you say about her beauty? Is she not worthy of the throne?"
He said this with such enthusiasm that he betrayed his secret, which he did not perhaps intend to hide before Zaklika.
"I do not wonder at your enthusiasm," said the latter; "but from your enthusiasm one would imagine you were in love."
"We are both soldiers," answered Wehlen, "and honest folks; why should I deny it? I have lost my head looking at her. I am not ashamed either. There is not another woman like her in the world."
"But," said Zaklika, "you should remember that a woman who was the King's wife would not look upon another man. Then so many misfortunes have withered her heart; finally, she is a prisoner for ever!"
"For ever!" interrupted Wehlen. "What lasts for ever? She is so beautiful!"
Zaklika smiled.
"You are so young," he said.
"You are right; I am young; but who could resist the charm of her looks? You have seen my uncle, his grey hair, wrinkled face, quenched eyes. Well, he looks at her from afar and sighs, till a game of draughts makes him forget her. The soldiers look at her as at a picture; then how can a youth of twenty resist her beauty?"
The same day they went to look over the castle, and already Zaklika tried to form some plans of escape. He found there was only one way to get out of the castle, and this was a subterranean corridor from the tower to the chapel, from which there was a narrow passage to the outside. Seeing this, he already had a plan. The Countess, dressed in man's clothing, would go down and slip into the exterior courtyard, where no sentries were posted. From there one could reach the door in the passage during the night. It would not be a difficult matter to get a couple of horses in the town, and the frontier was not far away.
A few days later he found an opportunity of entering Cosel's room without arousing any suspicion. The Countess extended her hand to him.
"You have made me wait too long," said she.
"I could not do otherwise," answered Zaklika. "The one who uses the last means must be careful. The question was not one of my life, but of not failing to deliver you."
"Yes, you are right," said Cosel. "I must preserve you for a last resource, for you are most faithful. Young Wehlen may be used first."
"What for?" asked Zaklika.
"To deliver me from here. He is madly in love with me. He knows the castle well. Do not mix in anything; let him do it. Help him as you can without taking part openly; prefer not to see anything. I will try to escape with him."
"But he is a crazy boy," said Zaklika. "Only crazy people succeed in accomplishing crazy enterprises," said Cosel.
"But suppose he does not succeed?" asked Zaklika gloomily.
"No matter; they cannot do anything worse to me. I should only regret having exposed the young man. You will remain in reserve."
"But I don't think he will have courage to do it," said Zaklika.
"Leave that to me. I will manage the whole thing."
A noise on the stairs stopped further conversation. Zaklika changed the subject and then went out.
He was hurt at Cosel's rejection of his help, but always submitted to her, determined to obey her will.
Wehlen took him into his confidence and told him he was ready to give up his own life for the Countess.
"I am sure you would not betray me," said he.
"No," answered Zaklika; "you may be assured on that point; but do not betray yourself."
Soon Zaklika noticed that Wehlen began to visit the Countess quite often, to talk with her while she was in the garden. Zaklika was obliged to play draughts with the uncle and to chat with him. Henry was constantly rushing about, and by his redoubled energy and some preparations that he easily noticed, Zaklika guessed that the flight was soon to be attempted. Not being in the secret, he did not want to interfere, but once he whispered to the youth,--
"For Heaven's sake, have a care, captain. I do not know your thoughts and plans, but I am afraid that the others may notice, as I have, some unusual preparations."
Wehlen was a little bit frightened; he took hold of Zaklika's arm, led him to a remote corner, and asked,--
"What have you noticed, then?"
"Well, I have noticed that you are preparing somesalto mortale."
"I do not understand what you mean," said Wehlen. "The whole thing is that I am madly in love."
"You must try not to show that love to others, and not let them see what I see."
The same day Zaklika went to the tower and found Cosel walking about feverishly, wearing a different dress than usual.
"Zaklika," she said, "do not interfere with anything--be blind. Play with the old commandant. In case of alarm, keep him as long as possible."
"If you succeed in escaping, what shall I do then?" asked Zaklika.
"Then come where I will tell you."
She did not wish to say a word more.
Zaklika left the room with a sad presentiment. Wehlen, whom he met in the courtyard, was feverish, looking every moment at the setting sun.
The old commandant called Zaklika to have a glass of beer and play the usual game of draughts. The sergeant who locked the doors and brought the key usually found them absorbed in the game, which lasted late into the night.
The evening was beautiful. Zaklika played absentmindedly, listening to the smallest noise in the castle, and the commandant, winning each time, laughed at him.
"What is the matter with you to-day?" he asked.
"I have a headache."
Having played a few games, they began to chat. Wehlen filled his pipe. The night was growing dark; they lighted candles. Henry was absent, and this was unusual.
"I am sure he went to town," said the commandant. "He is weary here, and I prefer him to go out rather than sigh at that proud lady, who imagines she is a queen and does not deign to look at anybody."
Zaklika did not answer.
Everything was quiet in the castle, and the time at which the old corporal used to bring the keys was near; there was a knock at the door.
The old soldier, looking like a highway robber--a mercenary who had seen military service in every country, entered. He was pale, and his face was strangely twisted. The expression of it struck Zaklika; he was horrified.
The commandant did not like him. His name was Wurm.
"I have to make a serious report," said Wurm.
"What is going on?" cried the commandant, rushing from his chair.
"At this moment your nephew is running away with the Countess Cosel!"
The commandant rushed to the door like a madman.
"It is no use to hasten," laughed Wurm savagely. "I knew it would come to that, and I watched them; I am sure of a good reward."
"It is an impudent lie!" cried the commandant.
"I have done my duty," said Wurm coolly. "At this moment the soldiers are keeping them in the passage behind the chapel, and Captain Henry, who is so fond of giving me slaps on the face, will be shot."
The corporal smiled with hellish delight. The commandant trembled, and knew not what to do. The fear of his beloved nephew made him almost crazy.
"Captain von Zaklika," cried he, "help me! save him!"
"It cannot be done," said the corporal. "Tomorrow the King and the whole Court will know about it. Too many people have seen it. I have fixed everything right. I have avenged myself, and if you like to be avenged on me, I am ready for anything."
At that moment there was a noise in the direction of the tower. The soldiers were conducting the prisoners. The Countess was pale, and Henry was staggering, for he had wounded himself with a pistol, and he would surely have killed himself had they not bound his hands.
Cosel was behaving like a mad woman; Henry stood quietly. The old commandant came to him wringing his hands. Zaklika was behind them; he pitied the poor boy who had fallen into the snare. Nobody looked at Wurm, who smiled triumphantly and cynically.
The uncle was obliged to put his nephew into prison and send a report to Dresden. He was unable to write it himself; the old soldier cried like a child. He called the secretary, and, sobbing and cursing, he accused his nephew, begging for mercy and giving as a reason his youth, and putting his own services in the balance. He did not spare his own blindness; but finally he accused the corporal, who, instead of preventing the misfortune, dishonestly waited for it in order to profit by it.
The sentries were doubled, and they passed the night in uneasiness.
The commandant put the corporal under arrest also. The report was sent by courier to Dresden. The rising sun shone on Stolpen Castle, which seemed gloomier than ever. Cosel was in convulsions. About noon General von Bodt and several officials came from Dresden. At first old Wehlen handed his sword without a word, but the General returned it to him; by the King's order only Captain Henry Wehlen and Corporal Wurm were to be court-martialled.
Before the sun set the sentence of death had been carried out. The old commandant's tears and prayers were in vain. Cosel heard the firing, and she shivered; she guessed that the man who loved her was at that moment paying for his love. Zaklika stood pale, like a corpse.
The same day Commandant von Wehlen left the service, after having written a bitter letter to the King. Corporal Wurm had been put in chains and sent to the Königstein fortress.
Such was Cosel's first attempt to recover her freedom. She cried over the poor young enthusiast who had given his life for her, but she wept also over her own lot. She told the servant to take all the flowers from the garden to Henry's grave. After that event, everything was changed in Stolpen. The command was given to Bierling, who was still more strict, but less intelligent; he was passionate, impetuous, arbitrary, and proud, possessing all the faults of old soldiers, and had been more successful than he deserved. He forbade the Countess to leave the tower; the guards were changed, and Zaklika was ordered to return to his regiment.
Taking advantage of the fact that the commandant was drunk every evening, Zaklika went to take leave of Cosel. He found her crying; she could hardly speak.
"Then you also abandon me! Are you afraid?" cried she, bitterly.
"They have ordered me to return to my regiment, and I must go in order to serve you better."
"And I--have I to weep here for ever?" said Cosel. "Have I to die here?"
"I will do anything you order," said Zaklika.
After a moment of reflection, she said,--
"Go, and think what can be done; you will know best. I have lost my common sense. God and man have abandoned me. But, remember, if you too betray me, I shall curse you!"
Then she told him that in Pillnitz she had buried a box of diamonds under a certain tree. Zaklika was to dig it up, sell the stones, and use the money in preparing for flight. The approach of a servant interrupted their conversation.
For several years following, the faithful servant could do nothing else but let her hear from him through the pedlar. They would not have been any more strict with her, but for another attempt to fly similar to the first, and which ended as unfortunately as the preceding one.
This time the Countess was sure of success. She ordered Zaklika, when he had found some pretext to visit her, to wait for her at a certain place on the frontier, and so have horses and money in readiness. The certain amount of freedom they granted her, she used in gaining over Lieutenant Helm, who, like Wehlen, fell madly in love with her.
This love was still more poetic, more passionate than the first one. It lasted two years, till the Countess, having tested the man, having learned of his plan, consented to try.
Lieutenant Helm was captivated not only by Cosel's beauty, but also by her intellect, eloquence, and poetry; for by this time the constant reading of her Bible had made of her an inspired divine. Her speech, dress, movement, and looks, marked an unusual state of mind, which was accompanied by such assurance, such a deep faith and unshaken dignity--that her attractiveness was increased not only in the eyes of this one man, but of all with whom she came in contact.
Zaklika was surprised at such a great change. She was beautiful, as before; but the expression of her face was more severe; misfortune had impressed its mark upon it, but had not lessened its charm. Her liveliness of movement was replaced by dignity; her words were uttered with an impressiveness that made them seem inspired by some mysterious source. She seemed to be some priestess--some sibyl. Zaklika found her reading the Bible with a pencil in her hand. She looked at him and extended her hand. The man's eyes moistened.
"Do you see?" said she. "I am still alive. God has permitted me to live, and He has not done so in vain. I know that I shall outlive my persecutors and forgive them. God granted me life to open my eyes to great truths. I must be free, for I have great things to accomplish."
"Are you not afraid," said Zaklika, "that--"
"I was never afraid of anything," interrupted Cosel. "That young man will do what I tell him, and now I possess the secret of seeing clearly ways and means. He will not betray me, neither will Fate!"
They agreed about the place and the day. He did not ask any questions about the plan, but he had fears for the lady; he had a presentiment that it would make her lot worse.
She dismissed him with a nod like a queen. Lieutenant Helm, whom he had seen only for a moment, seemed to him to be as enthusiastic as was the unfortunate Henry von Wehlen.
Zaklika, obedient to Cosel's order, obtained leave of absence, for he was still in the military service, which gave him a certain safety, and he went with his friend the Wend to wait on the frontier.
Cosel was coming there the same night. Zaklika waited with unspeakable uneasiness. The night passed in undisturbed quietude; then came day, and he waited in vain. The two following days and nights passed in the same manner: nobody came, there was no news. On the fourth day a merchant coming from Stolpen told in the inn how the Countess, imprisoned in the castle, after having escaped with an officer who helped her to fly, was captured.
That was all he could learn. He returned to Dresden in order to learn more, and so act according to the news he received.
The merchant's narrative was true. Zaklika went to Stolpen. He had no need to go to the castle: in the town nothing else was talked of. Helm had been working the whole year in digging a narrow passage under the walls, leading behind the fortress in the direction in which there were no sentries. The opening was adroitly hidden with stones. Drunken sentries and the absence of the commandant seemed to promise success. During the night the Countess, dressed in man's clothes, succeeded in leaving the tower unperceived. Helm was waiting for her in the third courtyard, from which they could escape to the outside by the passage he had made. He quietly removed the stones. The Countess passed first; Helm followed her. Notwithstanding the darkness, they succeeded in slipping down the basalt rocks to the foot of the mount. Not far off horses were waiting for them; but before they reached them the alarm was given in the castle.
A servant who entered Cosel's chamber to see whether the lady was quieter than she had been in the day, during which she was feverish, noticing that the window was open and the bed empty, began to scream, thinking that the Countess, in a fit of madness, had jumped on to the rocks. Everybody sprang to their feet.
While searching in the castle, they noticed the opening under the walls, and they set out in pursuit. The man who was waiting with the horses, hearing the alarm, returned with them to the town.
Cosel and Helm began to run across the fields to the bush, thinking to hide there; but the commandant, knowing that his life would be in danger if he failed to capture the fugitives, gathered as many people as he could in the town, ordered torches to be lit, sent men on horseback in all directions, and before dawn they were discovered. The Countess and Helm had pistols, and they wounded a soldier in self-defence, but the shot attracted the attention of others, and they were speedily captured.
The officer was court-martialled like von Wehlen. They took him to Dresden, where he was to be shot on the New Market square. His relations were very influential, and they did everything to save his life. About noon a detachment of soldiers conducted Helm to the place of execution. A large crowd gathered to look at the beautiful, golden-haired youth, who did not lose his courage in the hour of death.
He was placed against the wall, the soldiers aimed their rifles, the officer was ready to give the order to fire, when the King's aide-de-camp galloped up with a pardon.
Helm was led back to the barracks; but no one knew what was to be done with him. The crowd scattered.
At Stolpen Castle, except for new precautions and a change of commandant, nothing was altered. They did not touch Cosel, who enjoyed even the little liberty she was allowed before.
Cosel was mourning in her heart the death of another victim of her love, for the news of his pardon was slow in reaching her.
Zaklika returned to his quarters, and began preparations for that which he thought was his duty. But being more experienced than those who preceded him, he wanted to be certain that the last attempt to fly was certain of success. He was not discouraged at all because Wehlen had lost his life and Helm broken his career. The only question was, would it be better to quit the military service and go to live at Stolpen or not?
A few months passed. During this time Zaklika learned that a friend of his, Von Kaschau by name, a good but very dissipated fellow, was in the garrison of Stolpen. He went to see him, and when the old soldier perceived him, he was overwhelmed with joy. He asked the commandant to let Zaklika stay at the castle. The commandant, being unwell, and needing Von Kaschau to do his duty for him, consented. The two friends went to Kaschau's rooms, drank beer and chatted, naturally about the prisoner.
"I do not like to judge others," said the old soldier, "especially His Majesty, our King, but I do not see any reason for his severity to that woman! What could she do? The most would be that some one would fall in love with her, like Helm, for she is still beautiful. Nothing has injured her charms--neither prison, nor grief, nor tears."
"Had you seen her in her full splendour, as I did when I was at the Court," said Zaklika, "then you would know how dangerous she was. The King was not afraid of her pistol, but of her eyes and the influence she had over him; for if she could speak for an hour with him, he would lie at her feet and pray for pardon."
Kaschau laughed.
"Yes, but then he would lie at the feet of Fraulein Dieskau or Osterhausen--the old wheedler!"
"I would like to see her," said Zaklika, "for it would be interesting to see such a woman again."
"No one stops you from doing so," said Kaschau. "During the day you cannot steal her away; you may go there and bow to the former goddess."
Zaklika went to the tower and knocked at Cosel's door. As there was no answer, he entered, and beheld Cosel standing thoughtfully over an open Bible which was lying on the book-covered table. She was robed in such an odd dress that he feared she had lost her reason. She wore a full black robe with long sleeves and a girdle with cabalistic signs on it. On her head was a red handkerchief, arranged in Oriental fashion, with a roll of parchment on which some Hebrew sentences were written.
She was beautiful indeed, but quite different from that Cosel who received the Danish King in a robe covered with diamonds.
She did not take her eyes from the book, but remained thinking.
After a while she looked up at him, and said in surprise,--
"Are you a spirit or a living being?"
"I am your faithful servant; I have come to ask your orders," said Zaklika.
"Then there are faithful servants; and I, a prisoner, can still give orders? To whom?"
"To me," answered Zaklika, "as long as I live."
"How did you come here?"
Zaklika pointed to his uniform.
"Now is my turn," said he. "I will try to be more intelligent, and perhaps I shall be more lucky."
Cosel smiled bitterly.
"Everything is written above, predestinated, unchangeable--no one can escape his fate."
"And why should it not be my fate to give you liberty?"
She shook her head.
"For this reason, that I shall be free in another way," said she. "Formerly I was blind, but now I see my destiny in this book. There is no favour in this world; there is only iron, unbreakable, unavoidable necessity. One must submit to it. In the Old Testament alone is wisdom."
Zaklika did not know what to say to that.
"Do you remain here?" asked Cosel.
"I do not know yet. Tell me what I have to do; I am ready for anything."
Cosel turned over several pages, and began to read:
"'And he said again, Be not afraid; strengthen yourself and be wise, for thus will the Lord do unto all them against whom ye fight.'"
Then she said,--
"You must await God's voice."
"But am I to quit the military service or not?" asked Zaklika.
"Throw down that horrid livery--that coat of slavery of the Amalekites," said Cosel with animation.
"It will take some time to sell the commission before I could come to Stolpen."
"Go, then, and return," said she. "You are the only man who serves me faithfully."
Zaklika left her. In the courtyard he met Kaschau.
"What have you been talking about with her?" asked he.
"I could not talk at all," answered Zaklika. "She was reading the Bible. I did not want to interrupt her. I must come again."
"I doubt you will have a better chance. Now the Countess seeks distraction in holy books. It is better."
They spent the day in walking on the ramparts and chatting till the moment of locking the gates. Then he took leave of his friend and returned to his quarters in Ochatz, where he sold his commission, gathered as much money as he could, and came to Stolpen, where he purchased a little house in which he settled.