The Countess Cosel Part 21

Cosel looked confused. The King broke forth in fury. He did not wish to hear any explanation. The servants rushed out terrified, for the King's voice resounded loudly throughout the palace. Fear took possession of every one.

Cosel was just ready to faint, when a knock was heard at the door, and, looking up, she saw the pale, sad face of Zaklika.

"I beg to be excused for entering," said he, "but the servants have informed me that they cannot find the ring, which about an hour since I picked up on the floor, and which I was only waiting for a proper opportunity to return."

The King glanced at the ring, and was silent.

Cosel did not even look at Zaklika, she said not a word to Augustus, but, placing the ring slowly on her finger, she cast an angry glance at her lover, and walked into another room.

That was quite sufficient to calm the King, and make him seek her pardon on his knees. He remained the whole day at the palace, thereby hindering Cosel from summoning Zaklika, and demanding an explanation.

It was almost midnight when the King retired to his cabinet, where his ministers were awaiting him. The King had barely quitted the palace, before Cosel rang the bell, and ordered the servant to send Zaklika to her.

As was his wont, the faithful Raymond was sitting in the ante-room, reading a half-torn book. On seeing the servant he s.h.i.+vered. He had saved Cosel, but he knew his action would be regarded as a sin.

Tremblingly he entered the lady's room. Cosel, beautiful as a G.o.ddess, and proud as an absolute sovereign, was pacing up and down the room.

She frowned on seeing Zaklika, and stood before him threateningly.

"Who gave you permission to alter my orders?" she inquired.

Zaklika stood for a few moments with his eyes drooped, then, raising them towards the Countess's face, he replied,--

"I am guilty, Madam. You remember Laubegast, and the devotion with which I gazed on you from afar. This sentiment, cherished until now, explains everything to you. I desired to save you."

"I require help from no one!" exclaimed Cosel severely. "I required you to obey me, that is all, and I despise the sentiments of a servant!

They are offensive to me."

Zaklika's head drooped.

"Who told you that I cared more about your helping me to get out of trouble than I did about Count Lecherenne not receiving the ring?"

"The Count received the ring," replied Zaklika, although he suffered dreadfully at receiving such hard words.

"What ring?" demanded Cosel.

"One similar to yours. I had received one from Count Starenberg, and I gave it to the Count!"

Cosel was astonished.

"You deserve some reward," she whispered.

"Not a reward, but forgiveness," said Zaklika. "I could not accept a reward."

He retreated towards the door, and stood leaning against it. Cosel watched him for some time. Evidently some change had come over her sentiments, but pride prevailed.

She approached Zaklika, and handed him the ring that had been intended for Lecherenne.

Then Raymond woke, as from a dream, and seeing the ring in her white hand, he said,--

"I cannot accept it! It would always remind me that you were cruel to me."

The ring disappeared, and instead, the white hand approached Zaklika's lips.

He kissed it rapturously, and then rushed from the room like a madman, and Countess Cosel was left alone, thoughtful, and with tears in her beautiful dark eyes.

"It is thus that poor men love," said she to herself. "Kings are different."

All this time the Swedes were still in Saxony. Charles XII. was heartless and sardonic towards the King; severe towards the n.o.bility; and a grievous burden to the country, for his soldiers went about catching men and enrolling them in the Swedish army. The treaty of peace had been signed, but Charles XII. would not leave Saxony.

So many humiliations, so many sacrifices, exhausted the patience of all, and caused despair in every heart. The arrogance of the Swedish monarch, who rode through the country attended by twenty or forty soldiers, disgusted every one.

One morning, when the King was busy presiding over a council of his ministers, Count Schulenberg was announced. The old man was invited to take part in the council, but he had no desire to speak, and begged a private audience.

When they were alone, the King inquired,--

"General, do you bring me the good tidings that the Swedes are going to leave us?"

"I am sorry that I cannot bring your Majesty such good tidings. But there might be a way of getting rid of them."

"The only way I know of would be if Heaven sent us its army, with the archangel Michael at its head."

"Your Majesty," interrupted Schulenberg, "I am sure that with a little desperate courage we could rid ourselves of them, without the help of the angels. There are twenty thousand Swedes scattered throughout Saxony; it is but a mere handful, that one man's daring renders terrible. Let us catch him, and the rest have lost their value."

"How can you say that? Catch him during peace, when he trusts us?"

"That is what makes our vengeance possible," replied Schulenberg. "I have reconnoitred his quarters. They are very badly guarded. I could attack them during the night, and seize him. I will convey him to Konigstein; if they besiege me, I shall not surrender. Then the King's head will answer for my safety, and he will sign the treaty, as we wish it to be signed."

Augustus listened attentively.

"Suppose you should not succeed?" he asked.

"In that case, the blame will fall on me, and not on your Majesty,"

replied the General. "I desire to save my country from the invaders."

"General," said the King, "I think you are dreaming. You know that I respect knightly customs, and I cannot consent to your plans--I cannot!

I hate him, I should like to strangle him if I could get him into my hands, but I cannot allow him to be attacked during the night. General, this is not a business for Augustus the Strong!"

Schulenberg looked at him gloomily.

"Have they always acted in a knightly fas.h.i.+on towards your Majesty?"

"Ruffians such as they can do what they please; they are barbarians.

But Augustus, whom people call the Strong, and whom monarchs style the Magnificent, will not stoop to employ such means."

The old soldier twisted his moustache, and saluted.

"But suppose some insubordinate soldier were to do it?" he asked.

"I should be obliged to defend my enemy, and to release him," exclaimed Augustus.