The Countess Cosel Part 45

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 s.h.i.+vered, 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 a.s.sured 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. Lowendahl 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 Konigstein, and my children would become beggars. Flemming and Lowendahl 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 p.a.w.ned 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 n.o.bleman 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 fis.h.i.+ng. 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 G.o.d'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 Frohlich 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. Frohlich, 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?"