The Countess Cosel Part 3

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

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

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

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

Thus the sad monotonous life at Laubegast went on. Sometimes Anna thought of returning to Holstein, and taking up her abode with her family who dwelt at Brockdorf; but she was not on good terms with them.

Her father and mother were both dead, and her sister, the Countess of Brunswick, _nee_ Holstein Plon, would not have cared to see her at court. She remembered only too well the behaviour of the sixteen-years old Anna, who had slapped the face of Prince Ludwig Rudolf, when, attracted by her marvellous beauty, he had tried to kiss her.

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

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

Except one.

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

The first time Augustus the Strong visited Poland after having been elected King of that country, he wished to show his strength to the Polish n.o.bles. With this intent, he began one evening, after dinner, to break horse-shoes and silver plates. The Poles regarded this as a bad omen for their country, and one of them, wis.h.i.+ng to break the spell, said he knew a lad who could do the same. The King felt the sting conveyed in the remark, still he expressed a wish to see his rival.

Thereupon the Bishop of Kujawy promised to produce the n.o.ble referred to, who dwelt at Cracow. His name was Zaklika, and he came of a powerful family, though at present he was very poor. Then the incident was forgotten, and the Bishop would never have mentioned it, being conscious that he had committed an indiscretion, had not the King reminded him of it, and asked to see Raymond Zaklika.

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

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

"Father, where is your Hercules?"

Zaklika was summoned.

The youth was straight as an oak, good-looking, and modest as a girl.

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

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

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

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

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

The King then turned to the horse-shoes--they broke beneath his fingers like dry branches--but Zaklika could do the same with perfect ease.

Augustus took out a new thaler and broke it. A thicker piece of Spanish money was handed Zaklika. For a while the youth remained thoughtful, then he grew eager on the matter, and eagerness lending him fresh strength he broke the coin.

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

Thus he remained hanging about the court; a splendid livery was provided for him; he was allowed a few hundred thalers by way of salary, and plenty of liberty, his only duty being to follow the King wherever he went. Augustus did not forget him, and gave orders that he should be provided with every comfort, but he never spoke a word to him. Having plenty of time at his command, Zaklika began to study French and German, and within two years spoke both languages fluently.

Being unable to spend all his time in study, he used to wander about Dresden, visiting all the adjoining villages and forests on foot. He was also of a very inquisitive turn of mind, and climbed all over the rocky sh.o.r.es of the Elbe, yet he never met with any accident.

During one of his rambles he visited Laubegast, and finding the shade of the linden-trees very pleasant, lay down on the ground to rest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man was attired in the long, black dress of a Protestant minister.

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

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

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

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

"Who are you?"