Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
1. Pages scan source:
http://www.archive.org/details/countesscoselar00krasgoog
2. Alternate spelling of author's name: Jozef Ignacy Kraszewski
[Illustration: Frontispiece. The Countess Cosel.]
The Countess Cosel
A Romance of History
of the Times of
Augustus the Strong
By
Joseph J. Kraszewski
Translated and Edited by
S. C. de Soissons
_WITH PORTRAITS_
LONDON
DOWNEY & CO. Limited
12 YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN
1901
LONDON
GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, LIMITED,
ST. JOHN'S HOUSE, CLERKENWELL, E.C.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
The Countess Cosel _Frontispiece_
Augustus II. of Saxony (the Strong)
The Princess Teschen
The Countess Denhoff
The Countess Orzelska
INTRODUCTION
Joseph J. Kraszewski was born in Russian Poland in 1812. He came of a
noble and once wealthy family. His parents quitting their estates
during the war between France and Russia, the boy was left in the care
of his grandparents on his mother's side. From these he first acquired
a taste for literature and art. In his eleventh year, Kraszewski was
sent to the College at Biala, where he remained until 1826. He then
entered the College at Lublin, and in 1829 he proceeded to the
University of Wilno, where he gave his attention principally to the
study of languages, especially of Old Slavonic, Russian, Latin, Greek,
Hebrew, and Arabic. He spent much of his time in reading old documents
and manuscripts, and the materials thus gathered he subsequently
utilized in his historical romances and monographs.
The novel had at this period begun to be the most popular form of
literary expression in Western Europe. Kraszewski read and admired the
works of Le Sage, Voltaire, Jean Paul, Hoffmann, and even Washington
Irving. His first literary efforts were in close imitation of his own
countryman, Count Skarbek, and of Laurence Sterne. He began to write in
1829, and at this early period of his life he produced several
noteworthy novels.
In 1831 he was arrested by the Russian Government for his connection
with the revolutionary movement; but through the influence of his
aunt--an intimate friend of Prince Dologoruky, the Governor-General of
Wilno--he was subjected only to arrest at home, instead of being
deported to Siberia. Complete freedom of movement was not restored to
him until 1833. In this year he became the leader of a considerable
literary movement in Wilno. He edited there a weekly newspaper, and
from his pen flowed poetry, dramas, novels, and historical studies. His
literary activity was indeed amazing.
In 1836 Kraszewski left Wilno, and took unto himself a wife. He retired
to his estates in the country, where he endeavoured to reconcile the
life of a country gentleman with that of a _litterateur_. In 1855 he
came to Warsaw, and established in the Polish capital two periodicals,
a monthly and a daily. At this time the Marquis Wielopski was, on the
Czar's instructions, endeavouring to find a _modus vivendi_ between
Russia and Poland, but his policy was fiercely attacked by Kraszewski
in his daily newspaper; and when the insurrection against Russian rule
broke out in 1861, he was obliged to fly from Poland. He settled in
Dresden, where he passed the remainder of his life in continuous
literary effort, enriching Polish literature with an astonishing number
of works in all branches of _belles-lettres_. In 1879 the Polish nation
celebrated at Cracow, in a solemn and imposing fashion, the fiftieth
anniversary of Joseph Kraszewski's literary _debut_. After his death he
was laid to rest in the Pantheon set aside by the Poles for the
sepulture of their literary celebrities. As an instance of the
importance of Kraszewski's personality, it is related that Bismarck
signalled him out as the man through whom he might best strike a blow
at the Polish members of the German Reichstag. He was tried for
"Attempted Treason," and, on the very slightest evidence, was sentenced
to four and a half years' imprisonment in the fortress of Magdebourg.
As a mighty reformer of Polish literature, Kraszewski deserves the
highest esteem of his countrymen: as a diligent worker and social
reformer he stands an example for any nation. He has left us a gallery
of pictures, of historical episodes, and characteristic studies of
interesting historical personages. During his long residence in
Dresden, he devoted himself specially to a study of men and manners at
the Courts of Augustus the Second ("the Strong") and Augustus the
Third. In "The Countess Cosel" he gives us views of Augustus the Second
and his courtiers which are almost unique as pictures of Court life.
The story of the Countess has all the air of a dramatic romance
carefully planned by an ingenious novelist; yet it is a faithful
narrative of events, illumined by the light of Kraszewski's genius.
S. C. De Soissons.
[Illustration: Augustus II. of Saxony (the Strong)]
THE COUNTESS COSEL
CHAPTER I.
All was silent, dark, and sad in the King's castle, in the capital of
Saxony. It was an autumn night, but at the end of September, the leaves
are only beginning to turn yellow, cold winds are very rarely felt, the
days are usually bright, and the nights warm.
But on this evening the wind was blowing from the north; long black
clouds followed each other in quick succession, and if a star made its
appearance for a moment in the lead-coloured sky, it was quickly
covered by the thick clouds. Before the gates of the castle of
Georgenthor, and in the court-yards, silent sentries were pacing to and
fro. The windows of the King's apartments, usually so brilliantly
lighted, were dark. This was a most unusual event during the reign
of Augustus, surnamed the Strong, because he was wont to break
horse-shoes, men, sadness, and ill-fortune--but nothing could break
him. Throughout the whole of Germany, indeed, throughout the whole of
Europe, he was famed for the brilliancy of his court. There were none
who could surpass him in magnificence, refinement of taste, and lordly
prodigality.
This year, however, Augustus had been defeated. The Swedes had taken
from him the electoral crown of Poland, and the almost dethroned King,
chased from the kingdom, had returned to the Kurfuersten-neste, to weep
over the millions he had spent in vain, and the fearful ingratitude of
the Poles. The Saxons could not understand how anyone could fail to
admire such a good and noble lord, or how anyone could be unwilling to
die for his sake.
Augustus understood this still less than they did. The word
"ingratitude" now accompanied every mention he made of Poland, and at
length his courtiers avoided talking about it, about the King of
Sweden, and about those things that Augustus the Strong had promised
himself to set right.
When Augustus returned to Dresden, that city made every possible effort
to distract its lord, and it was only on this evening that everything
was quiet within the castle. But why? The King had not gone to any of
his other castles; the Leipsic fair had not yet begun; and besides, it
had even been rumoured in the court, and throughout the city, that
Augustus intended to order a series of balls, and carousals, to spite
the Swedish monarch, and to prove to that august personage that he
cared nothing for the temporary defeat he had sustained.
The few passers-by who wended their way along the streets surrounding
the castle, gazed at the windows in astonishment, wondering why, at
this early hour, everything should be so quiet in the King's
apartments. But anyone who penetrated further, and passing through the
first large gate, crossed the courtyard, would have discovered that it
was only on one side of the castle that silence reigned supreme, and
that the interior of the building was seething with life and animation.
Despite the keen north wind that was blowing, the windows on the first
floor were wide open, and through the curtains poured forth streams of
light, reflected from many mirrors; whilst from time to time there
issued from the depths of the hall, peals of boisterous laughter,
which, ringing through the spacious courtyard, startled the watchful
sentries, and echoing against the grey walls, gradually died away in
the distance.
This laughter was accompanied by more or less noise, which alternately
increased, subsided into murmurs, or died away into silence. At times
there was loud clapping of hands as though after a speech, and then
again was heard deep, sonorous, full-toned, king-like laughter, the
laughter of a person not afraid of being heard, or of being answered in
shouts of derision. At each fresh outburst of merriment, the guard
pacing, halberd in hand, beneath the castle windows, paused in his
walk, raised his eyes, and then with a deep sigh looked down on the
ground.
There was something awful in this midnight feast, held while the wind
was blowing fiercely, and the capital lay wrapt in sleep.
Here the King was making merry.
Since his return from Poland, such evening debauches, with a few
intimate courtiers, had been more frequent. Augustus the Strong,
defeated by Charles XII., was ashamed to appear at great feasts; but as
he needed some distraction from the sad thoughts that oppressed him, he
gathered round him a few courtiers to whom he was attached. For these
he ordered his servants to bring out the golden wine that was yearly
imported from Hungary for the King's private use, and of this they
drank until daybreak, by which time every one had fallen from their
seats. Then Hoffman came, and conducted the King, still laughing
heartily, to bed.
To these select assemblies of the priests of Bacchus only a few persons
were admitted, only those, in fact, in whom Augustus had entire
confidence; for it was said that after drinking a few bumpers the King
was dangerous. His strength was the strength of Hercules, and his anger
the anger of Jove. If he were made angry in the morning, he said
nothing, but his face grew crimson, his eyes glittered, and his lips
trembled. He would turn away, and would not look at the person who had
offended him. But after a few draughts of wine it was a different
matter; at such times he had thrown many a one through the window, who
had fallen on the pavement to rise no more.
His anger was rare, but it was terrible as a thunderbolt. In ordinary
life there could not be found a more affable or benevolent lord. It has
even been remarked that the more he disliked a man, the more sweetly he
smiled on him; and the day before they were imprisoned in Koenigstein,
where his favourites had sometimes had to remain for several years,
Augustus would embrace them as though they were his dearest friends; so
noble was his nature, so wishful was he to soften the hard lot of his
people.
As it was necessary for the lord to have some amusement, it was nothing
remarkable that two bears should sometimes be brought to the castle, or
two enemies made drunk, and then induced to fight. This was a sport in
which the King especially delighted, and when two drunken Vitzthums,
Friesens or Hoyms, began to quarrel, he used to split his sides with
laughing. This was such an innocent recreation.
The King could make them quarrel very easily, for he knew
everything--he knew who was in love, and with whom; which man hated the
other; how much money they had taken from his treasury without his
permission; he even knew what each of his courtiers was thinking, and
if he did not know, he guessed. Who the spies were who betrayed them,
the courtiers could by no means discover; and the result of this was
that each one suspected his neighbour; brother was afraid of brother;
the husband distrusted the wife; the father had no confidence in his
son; and King Augustus the Strong looked on, and laughed at the mob!
Yes, from his exalted position he looked down on the comedy of life,
not disdaining to play in it the role of Jove, Hercules, and
Apollo--and in the evening the role of Bacchus.
On the evening in question, being very sad and weary, the King
determined to make all his ministers and favourites drunk, and then
make them confess for his amusement.
The select companions of the King's feast were seated in a brilliantly
lighted room, one side of which was occupied by an enormous sideboard,
bright with silver and cut glass. Amongst those present were: Count
Taparel Lagnasco, who had just arrived from Rome; Count Wackerbarth,
from Vienna, Watzdorf, called the peasant of Mansfeld; Fuerstenberg,
Imhoff, Friesen, Vitzthum, and Hoym; and last, but not least, Friedrich
Wilhelm, Baron Kyan, famous for his wit, who made every one else laugh,
whilst he remained perfectly serious.
The King, with dress and vest unfastened, sat leaning on one elbow--he
was very sad. His handsome face, usually so bright, was veiled in a
mist of sorrow. Several empty bottles bore witness to the fact that
drinking had already continued for some time, yet on the King's face no
results of the goodly wine were visible. The golden liquid had not been
able to make his gloomy thoughts more bright.
The courtiers jested with each other, endeavouring to make their lord
laugh, but without avail. Augustus sat silent and thoughtful, as though
he heard not a word that was spoken. This was most unusual; the King
was so seldom sad, indeed he was ever eager for mirth and distraction.
His companions grew uneasy and looked at him askance.
At the opposite end of the table sat Kyan, gloomy, and unassuming. As
though to mock the King, he also leaned on one elbow, stretched out his
legs, and looked up at the ceiling with a deep sigh.
His melancholy air gave him an absurd appearance.
"Hark you," whispered Fuerstenberg, nudging Wackerbarth with his
elbow--they were both tipsy by this time--"do you see our lord? Nothing
makes him smile--and it is already eleven o'clock--he ought to be in a
good humour by now. This is our fault."
"I am here as a guest," replied Wackerbarth, shrugging his shoulders.
"It is none of my business; as you know him better than I do, you
should find the proper way to amuse him."
"He is tired of Lubomirska--that is clear," added Taparel.
"And then it is difficult to digest those Swedes," whispered
Wackerbarth. "I do not wonder at him."
"Eh! Eh! We have forgotten all about the Swedes; some one else will
defeat them for us, we can be sure of that, and then we will go and
gather the fruits," said Fuerstenberg. "He is not bothered about the
Swedes, but he has had enough of Lubomirska--we must find him some
other woman."
"Is that such a difficult matter?" whispered Wackerbarth.
Then they began to whisper together, but so low that they could not be
overheard, for, as though suddenly awakened from slumber, the King was
looking round on his companions. His glance wandered from one to
another, until it rested at length on the tragic pose of Baron Kyan,
and on seeing this the monarch burst into a hearty laugh.
This was quite sufficient to make every one else laugh.
"Kyan," cried the King, "what is the matter with you? Has your
sweetheart betrayed you? Have you no money? You look just like
Prometheus, with an invisible eagle devouring your liver."
Kyan turned slowly round, much after the fashion of a wooden doll, and
drew a deep sigh; so deep was it that it extinguished a six-light
candelabra that was standing near him.
"Kyan, what is the matter with you?" repeated the King.
"Your Majesty," replied the Baron, "personally, there is nothing the
matter with me. I am neither hungry, nor in love, nor in debt, nor
jealous; but I am in despair."
"Why? What has happened? Speak!"
"I am grieving over our beloved monarch!" answered Kyan. "Born to be
happy; endowed with a godlike face, with Herculean strength, with a
generous heart; created to have the world lie at your feet--and yet
your Majesty is sad!"
"Yes, that is true!" said Augustus, frowning. "I am sad!"
"Fifteen of us are sitting here, and none of us know how to make you
merry; the women betray you, and grow old; the wine turns sour; your
money is stolen; and when in the evening you wish to enjoy yourself in
merry company, your faithful subjects meet you with death's-head faces.
What wonder, then, that I, who love my King, am in despair?"
Augustus smiled; then, seizing a goblet, he knocked with it on the
table. Immediately two dwarfs stepped forth from behind the sideboard,
and stood before the King.
"Iramm," said the King, "order a big-bellied bottle of Ambrosia to be
brought here! Kyan, I make you cup-bearer."
Ambrosia was the name given to the Hungarian wine furnished to the
King, and pressed out for him specially by Count Zichy. It was the wine
of wines, thick like syrup, treacherously smooth, but strong enough to
make a giant dead drunk.
Iramm and his companion disappeared, and shortly afterwards a negro
entered, bearing a silver tray, on which was an enormous bottle. All
the guests rose at once and greeted it with low bows.
"Kyan, do your duty!" cried the King.
Kyan rose. The dwarfs brought another tray with glasses; but on the
cup-bearer whispering something to them, they withdrew behind the
sideboard, from whence they emerged a few moments later, bringing
glasses of various sizes.
With the dignity of an official who is fully conscious of the
importance of his position, Kyan began carefully arranging the glasses.
In the centre he placed a large and beautiful glass for the King, this
he surrounded by smaller glasses destined for the favourites, and
outside these was another row of glasses, much smaller than the last,
so small indeed that they looked like thimbles.
All watched him with curiosity.
Then, taking the large bottle, Kyan began to pour out the wine, being
careful not to shake it. First he filled all the smallest glasses. It
is true that these did not hold much wine, but there were so many of
them that before they were all filled, the bottle was half empty. The
cup-bearer next filled the larger glasses. The wine in that large
bottle grew speedily less, and by the time he came to the King's glass
there was no wine left. Then Kyan poured into it the lees that remained
at the bottom of the bottle, and looked at Augustus.
"What a splendid cup-bearer you are," said the King, laughing. "I am
the last. What does that mean?"
The courtiers also laughed.
"Your Majesty," said Kyan, placing the empty bottle on the table, "this
is nothing new. What I have done to-day with the wine is only what your
officials do every day with the income of the state. In the first
place, every small employe fills his own pockets, then the superiors,
of course, do not forget themselves, and after that there remains
nothing for the King."
The King clapped his hands, and looked round on those present.
"Kyan, your health! The parable is worthy of AEsop. But order another
bottle for me."
The negro brought a second bottle of Ambrosia.
All laughed because the King laughed, but they looked askance at Kyan,
who, having taken the smallest glass, was drinking to the health of the
Hercules of Saxony.
Then they all fell on their knees, and, raising their glasses, shouted
acclamation.
The King emptied his glass, and said,--
"Let us talk of something else."
Fuerstenberg was the first to rise.
"Your Majesty," said he, "at this hour one should only speak of that
which rules over both the night and the day; and that is Woman."
"Good!" exclaimed the King. "Let every one describe his favourite.
Fuerstenberg shall begin."
The King smiled maliciously as he said this, and Fuerstenberg made a
grimace.
"The precedence has been given to me," said the young favourite, "but
this is only a proof that his Majesty sees everything. The King knows
that I cannot lie, and this is why he exposes me to such a humiliation.
But I entreat your Majesty to excuse me from drawing a picture of my
favourite."
"No, no!" exclaimed several voices. "It is not necessary to give the
portrait a name, but the King's commands must be obeyed."
All knew, more or less, why the young Prince was reluctant to speak.
This was a critical moment of his life, for he was playing a love
comedy with a widow over forty years of age, and famous for the fact
that, owing to the thickness of the paint she put on her face, it was
impossible for any one to see the colour of her skin. The widow was
rich, and Fuerstenberg was in need of money.
When they became too noisy, the King commanded silence, and said,--
"You must depict this painted love of yours."
To gain courage to perform the task imposed on him, the giddy young
courtier emptied his glass.
"My love," said he, "is the prettiest lady in the world. Who can deny
it? Who can tell what is hidden beneath the mask which she puts on in
order to prevent common mortals from looking at her?"
A loud burst of laughter here interrupted him.
Beside him sat Adolf Hoym. He was a well-made man, but his expression
was disagreeable and his small eyes had a timid look. Hoym was famous
for his love adventures, but for several years he had kept them so
secret that it was thought they no longer had an attraction for him. It
was said that he had married, but no one had seen his wife. She was
hidden away at his country house.
Hoym was already tipsy, that could easily be told by the strange
movements of his head, and by the efforts he made to raise his arms by
dropping his eyelids.
It was the best fun possible for the King and his companions to catch
the Secretary of the Treasury in a state when his mind could no longer
control his tongue.
"Hoym's turn now," said the King. "You, Hoym, can have no excuse. We
all know that you are a connoisseur of female beauty, and that you
cannot live without love; nothing ever goes beyond these walls. Come,
now, confess!"
Hoym turned his head, and played with his glass.
"He! he! he!" he laughed.
Baron Kyan filled up his glass.
Hoym seized and emptied it with the stupid avidity of a drunken man
consumed with a burning thirst.
His face grew crimson.
"He! he! he! You wish to know what my love looks like," he began. "But
you must know that I have no need of a mistress, for I have a wife
beautiful as a goddess!"
All burst out laughing, but the King looked at him inquisitively.
"You may laugh," continued Hoym, "but the man who has not seen her, has
not seen Venus, and I think even Venus herself would look rather like a
country washerwoman, if placed beside her. Can I describe her? In her
eyes alone there is so much power that no mortal could resist her.
Praxiteles could not have shaped a more perfect form. It is impossible
to describe the charm of her smile, and yet the stern goddess does not
smile every day."
They nodded, but without believing what he said. Hoym would have
stopped here, but the King said,--
"Describe her better, Hoym."
"Who can describe perfection?" said Hoym, raising his eyes. "She
possesses every good quality, and has not one single drawback."
"I am quite ready to believe that she is beautiful," exclaimed
Lagnasco, "for fickle Hoym has been constant to her for three years."
"He exaggerates! He is drunk!" interrupted Fuerstenberg. "Would you dare
to say that she is more beautiful than the Princess Teschen?"
Hoym shrugged his shoulders, and glanced timidly at the King, who said
quietly,--
"There must be no consideration, except for the truth. Is she more
beautiful than Lubomirska?"
"Your Majesty," exclaimed Hoym enthusiastically, "the Princess is a
beautiful woman, but my wife is a goddess. There is not another woman
anywhere, at the court, in the city, in the whole of Saxony, or indeed
in the whole of Europe, who is as beautiful as my wife!"
The hall re-echoed with a gigantic peal of wild laughter.
"Hoym is very amusing when he is drunk!"
"How funny the Secretary to the Treasury is!"
"What a very droll man!"
The King did not laugh. Hoym, under the influence of the Ambrosia, had
evidently forgotten where he was, and to whom he was talking.
"Yes, laugh!" he exclaimed. "You all know me! You call me Don Juan; you
acknowledge that I am a judge of female beauty. Why should I lie?"
Here he looked at the King and was terrified at the expression of his
features. So terrified was he that he almost became sober. He would
have liked to withdraw, but, being unable, he stood there pale and
trembling.
In vain the others tried to make him talk further; Hoym only looked
down at the floor and became thoughtful.
The King nodded to Kyan, who filled Hoym's glass with Ambrosia.
"We have drunk the health of our divine Hercules," cried Fuerstenberg,
"now let us drink to the health of our godly Apollo!"
Some drank kneeling, others standing; Hoym, who had risen tottering,
was obliged to lean on the table. The effects of the wine, that fear
had checked for a time, returned. His head swam--he emptied his glass
at one draught.
Behind the King's chair stood Fuerstenberg, whom that monarch
caressingly called Fuerstchen. To him Apollo now turned,--
"Fuerstchen," said he quietly, "Hoym has not lied; he has been hiding
his treasure from us for several years, we must force him to show it to
us. Do what you please, no matter what the cost, but we must see her."
Fuerstenberg smiled; he and the others were much pleased at this. The
King's present mistress, Princess Teschen, had against her all the
friends of Chancellor Beichlingen, whom she had succeeded in
overthrowing, and after whose downfall she had inherited the palace
situated in Pirna Street, and although Fuerstenberg had served her
against the other ladies who had laid siege to the King's heart, yet he
was ready to serve Augustus against the whole world. Lubomirska's
beauty was not very great; to tell the truth, she was somewhat
_passee_, and her manners of a fine lady had begun to weary the King,
who liked his mistresses to be of a more daring and more lively
temperament. Fuerstenberg had guessed all this from the King's
conversation. Rushing across to Hoym, he leant over his chair, and said
aloud,--
"My dear Count, I am ashamed of you! You have lied most impudently, and
in the presence of the King too. You have been practising a joke on him
and on us. I admit that the wife of such a connoisseur as you are may,
perhaps, not be a scarecrow, but to compare her to Venus, or even to
the Princess Teschen, that is a wretched joke."
Again the wine began to act on Hoym's head.
"What I have said," exclaimed he angrily, "is nothing but the truth!
_Tausend Donner-wetter Potz und Blitz!_"
All laughed at the rough exclamation, but at such friendly reunions the
King forgave all such liberties; and, while he was drinking, even
common mortals were allowed to throw their arms round his neck, and
kiss him, and were not afraid that their Hercules would turn and
strangle them.
"I bet a thousand ducats," shouted Fuerstenberg, "that your wife is not
more beautiful than any of the other ladies of the court."
They poured more wine into Hoym's glass, who now drank from despair.
"I accept!" said he, speaking through his clenched teeth.
"I will be the judge," said Augustus. "And we cannot postpone sentence;
Hoym must bring his wife here immediately, and introduce her at the
Queen's first ball."
"Write at once, Hoym! The King's courier will carry the letter to
Laubegast," said Fuerstenberg.
"Yes, write; write!" resounded from all sides.
Paper was laid before him in a moment, and Fuerstenberg put a pen into
his hand. The unfortunate Hoym, in whom the fear of the husband was
aroused, as often as he remembered the gallantry of the King, could not
tell how he ever wrote to his wife, commanding her to come to Dresden.
But in the twinkling of an eye, the paper was snatched from his hand,
and some one had rushed with it into the courtyard, and ordered the
King's courier to ride with it at once to Laubegast.
"Fuerstenberg," whispered Augustus, "I can see by Hoym's face that,
should he become sober to-day, he will send a counter order. We must
make him dead drunk."
"He is so drunk already, that I fear for his life!" returned the
Prince.
"I do not," replied Augustus quietly, "I hope I should be able to find
some one to fill the office that would become vacant by his death."
The smile with which the King accompanied this speech had such an
effect on those present, that they all crowded round Hoym, pouring wine
into his glass, and suggesting toasts, with the result, that within
half-an-hour Hoym fell asleep on the table, his face, pale as a corpse,
his head hanging, and his mouth open. For the sake of security, they
did not convey him home, but placed him instead in one of the King's
rooms, where he was watched over by the giant Cojanus, who received
orders not to let him return home, should he unexpectedly come to his
senses.
Having got rid of him, they continued their carouse.
The King was now in an excellent humour, and the radiance of his
countenance was reflected in the faces of his courtiers. Day was
already dawning when two lackeys carried Augustus the Strong to bed. He
had succumbed last of all, except Fuerstenberg, who, taking off his wig
to cool his head, grew thoughtful, and muttered to himself,--
"So we shall have a new ruler, then. Lubomirska meddled too much with
politics. She wished to subdue the king, but he does not require a
mistress with brains! She has to love him, and amuse him; that is all
her business. Now we shall see the Countess Hoym!"