Frederick looked into his father's eyes, as though wishing to show him that he promised to obey.

'Had I a few more men like him in Poland,' continued the King, 'I should have restored order in the republic and introduced the same system as I have in Saxony. Ah, those Polish, so-called friends and faithful servants, suck as Lipski, Hozynsz and others, are all afraid of the n.o.bility, and they fool me. But let us be patient, I shall end all that, several heads shall fall off and then everything will be quiet. I cannot bear a public that dares to murmur when I command.---Enough of it.'

The interrupted leave-taking was continued: Frederick kissed his father's hand. Lackeys, pages and servants were ready in the ante-room.

The officials and clergy stood quietly in a corner. The King smiled to all. He repeated to the huntsmen his order to take care of the twelve bisons brought from Bialowiezer and kept in Kreirn near Moritzburg and moved towards a carriage standing ready.

The postillions were already mounted; in the courtyard stood bareheaded burghers, at whom the King only glanced and whom he commanded to pay their taxes: a moment later everything was quiet in the castle and in Dresden.

Everyone had plenty of time to rest until the King returned, when it would fall to their lot to amuse him again.

The whole retinue, escorted by a detachment of cavalry, had already reached the bridge, while Bruhl's carriage still stood in the courtyard of the castle. The King's favourite came out thoughtfully and saw Sulkowski. Bruhl's face brightened at once; he seized Sulkowski's arm and conducted him to one of the nearest rooms.

Bruhl's face expressed the tenderest friendship. Sulkowski was indifferent.

'How happy I am,' said Bruhl, 'to be able once more to win a place in your affections.' And his voice was as sweet as his words.

'Bruhl, listen!' Sulkowski interrupted. 'I also remind you of our agreement. In good fortune or bad, we shall remain friends.'

'Do you need to remind me?' exclaimed Bruhl. I love you, I respect you, I am grateful to you, I am your friend.'

'Give me a proof of it.'

'As soon as I have opportunity! Pray, give me that opportunity! Dear Count, I am yours! Do not forget me! You know what I mean--'

'Fraulein Kolowrath!' said Sulkowski laughing. '_Grand bien vous fa.s.se_, you shall have her. Her mother is in your favour.'

'But she?'

'Oh! don't be afraid, n.o.body will stand in your way. One must be as brave as you to attain to such bliss.'

'I missed a greater and the only bliss,' said Bruhl, sighing.

Sulkowski slapped him on the shoulder and said laughing:

'I see that Moszynski is right in hating you.'

'Nonsense!' protested Bruhl.

'Oh! don't deny it. It's difficult to conceal anything at court. You and the Countess Moszynski are better friends than if you were married.'

Bruhl shrugged his shoulders. 'My heart owns only Frances Kolowrath.'

'Her hand is waiting for you.'

'Her mother herself will propose her to you. And it is time that Frances was married, for her eyes shine strangely.'

'Like stars!' Bruhl exclaimed.

'What would the Countess Moszynski say to that?'

Suddenly Bruhl seized Sulkowski's hand.

'Count,' said he, 'do not forget me and speak in my favour to the Prince. I fear whether I sufficiently showed my respect and attachment to him, as well as towards the pure and saintly Princess.---Tell him--'

'You speak for us to the King,' interrupted the Count, 'and I will do the same for you with the Prince. And then, my Bruhl, you will not be without protectors. Padre Guarini tries to convert you, the Countess thinks of you as her future son-in-law, and I should not be surprised if you had still another friend at court.'

'All that is nothing if you are not with me,' said Bruhl.--'I would give up Guarini and Kolowrath in your favour.'

'But you would not give up Moszynski,' said Sulkowski laughing. 'And now good luck to your journey; remember me in Poland to all my countrymen.'

'Not to their wives and daughters?'

'Yes, should some of them ask after me--but I doubt it. I prefer German women.'

'I too!' said Bruhl.

They had already reached the door.

'_Eh, bien, a la vie, a la mort!_'

They shook hands. Bruhl hastened towards the carriage. At the farther end of the courtyard Padre Guarini was standing, making the sign of the cross over Bruhl as he drove off, following his master to Warsaw.

CHAPTER V

It was the beginning of January 1733. In the morning Prince Frederick returned from hunting at Hubertsburg. Sulkowski was with him. In the evening the incomparable Faustina was going to sing in the opera. The Prince was as great an admirer of her voice and beauty as his father.

The singer would tyrannise over her compet.i.tors, would persecute those who had not the good fortune to please her, and when she deigned to sing there was quiet in the hall as in a church; if anyone dared to sneeze he might be sure that she would become his bitterest foe. The opera called 'Cleophia' was announced and Prince Frederick enjoyed the prospect.

In the afternoon, the Prince, dressed in a splendid _robe de chambre_, was sitting in an armchair, digesting with that pleasant feeling produced by a strong stomach and excellent cooking.

Sulkowski stood opposite him. From time to time the Prince would look at his friend, smile, and smoke on in silence.

The friend and servant looked with pleasure on his happy master, sharing his happiness silently.

The Prince's face beamed, but it was his habit, when in a happy mood, to speak very little and to think. n.o.body knew what about. Sometimes he would raise his drooping head, look at Sulkowski and say:

'H'm! Sulkowski?'

'I am here.'

Then he would nod and that was the end of it. A quarter of an hour would elapse and the Prince would call him again by his Christian name, or caressingly in the Italian language. The Count would reply as before that he was there and the eloquent silence would follow.

The Prince spoke but little and only when obliged to do so. He disliked anything unexpected. His life must flow quietly, monotonously. The afternoon hours, when he only received his most familiar friends, were those he enjoyed best. In the forenoon he was obliged to give audience, to listen, to talk, to sign papers. After such efforts the afternoon _siesta_ was delightful to him. When there was no opera he would go to Princess Josepha, listen to some music, and the day would end with a supper.

Never before did the courtiers have a lord more easy to entertain. He was satisfied though one day resembled another as two drops of water.