In a narrow street in the city of Halle, in the first floor of a modest
house, a strange woman had for some time attracted the attention of the
peaceful passers-by.
There she sat all day long, looking out at the sky, with unseeing eyes,
and her mien, her great beauty, and the intense sadness of her face
attracted a curious crowd.
No one in Halle knew the lady, but from her sadness they guessed she
was very unhappy.
She never looked at the human faces; her gaze was fixed on space. Only
when many people gathered and began to whisper, with curious looks at
her, she started and left the window.
The door of her house was always shut; nobody visited her; a servant
obtained her meals from a restaurant. Only from time to time a young,
elegantly dressed man knocked at the door. He went in and stayed for a
few moments; then he returned, sad. The students called him the lover
of the beautiful unknown, although he did not look like it.
The beautiful mysterious lady--for every one believed her to be a
lady--was the sole topic of conversation in Halle at that time.
The landlord and his wife, questioned by their friends, even the bribed
servant, would not give a word of information about her. When
questioned, they threw a frightened look round, and muttered something
about not knowing anything.
Besides the curious, from time to time a soldier walked past the house,
looking in at the windows; then a man, whose mien indicated that he had
been a soldier.
That beautiful unknown lady was the Countess Cosel, but how terribly
changed!
The latest incident had broken the spirit of the woman, filled her soul
with fear, and driven away all hope. She was now sad and in despair,
and continually crying. The vengeance that persecuted her was so
implacable, that now she expected everything--even death.
In Berlin she was free--she could escape; in Halle she was a prisoner.
Zaklika, who had accompanied her here, told her the next day that all
the doors of the house were watched. She was still free, but she could
not take a step. She wanted to go to church on Sunday, but, seeing that
she was watched, she returned home. The landlord and his wife were very
civil, but could not be trusted. The burgher had fox-like eyes, and his
wife was pale and did not dare to speak a word.
Zaklika tried to make friends with them; they ran from him as from the
pestilence.
A few days later the Chamberlain Von Sinen was announced. He came in
sad, modest, and confused, as if he did not know what to say.
"With what do you come?" asked Cosel, "for I know that you do not come
in sympathy, but by command."
"You are mistaken," answered Von Sinen. "It is both; I preferred to
come myself rather than let any one else be sent here."
"Speak, then," said Cosel, "I am ready for anything."
"Were you only ready to have more resignation," said he, "everything
could be repaired."
"What do they require from me?"
Von Sinen sighed.
"The King has sent me to ask you for the paper which he signed for
you," said the Chamberlain.
"And he thinks that I shall surrender it, so that from a wife I shall
become a mistress, whom he can dismiss whenever he likes." And she
added, "If you have come only on that errand, then return and tell the
King that Cosel will never sell her honour."
"Madam, for heaven's sake," said the Chamberlain, "do not be
stubborn. If you return that paper, you can yet recover your
freedom--everything."
"Augustus' heart is what I want," whispered Cosel. "But he has none in
that breast glittering with diamonds; he is as cold as are the stones.
I shall never get back that which is dearest to me--faith in mankind."
Von Sinen remained a couple of hours; but not being able to prevail
upon her, he stayed in Halle several days, giving her plenty of time to
think it over.
He visited her each day, trying to persuade her by all possible
arguments; but she was persistent in her refusal.
"I shall not give back the paper," she repeated. "It contains the
defence of my honour and my children's. I shall die, but he shall not
have it."
The second day after Von Sinen's arrival, Cosel called Zaklika to her.
He looked awful--pale, angry, and silent. When he looked at people,
they shrank from that face full of hate, seeing in it a grief only
looking for the opportunity to change into madness.
They could not talk long in the house, being surrounded by spies.
Zaklika used to come and go as though he had business to do, carrying
something out and then bringing it back. Only thus could they speak.
Cosel said to him,--
"Do they watch you, too?"
"Not yet."
"You must leave me, and be entirely free."
Zaklika shivered and stared at her.
"I? Leave you? And what am I to do with myself? to what shall I devote
my life? Then I can only die."
"No," said Cosel, "it is only the beginning of my imprisonment. You
must be free in order to help me to get back my freedom."
Zaklika became thoughtful.
"Speak, then," said he after a while.
"You will know where I am. I trust you, you must think about means; you
will try and free me. There are still a few thousands with Lehman; I
will give you a word to him--you will take the money."
Zaklika was indignant that she should offer him money.
"It is not for you, but you must have it to free me."
She looked at him. He nodded obediently.
"In the first place, go and try to find out whether they will let you
go; you may tell them that you do not wish to serve me any more. Do
what you please. Carry in your breast my treasure that I entrusted to
you. Do you understand me?"
She extended to him her trembling hand.
"Only you do I trust, for only in you is a human soul. Do not betray
me, like the rest!"
"I?" exclaimed Zaklika, indignantly, and his eyes shone so fiercely
that Cosel retreated. "I?" repeated he, trembling. "I can die, but not
betray."
"Then you must be free, without arousing suspicion. Go!"
Zaklika went out, and he did not reappear until the next day towards
evening, when he brought with him a new servant, and took his leave
from his mistress.
Cosel had enough strength to play a scene of anger, for the landlord
and his wife listened at the door.
He left the room, and went to an official complaining that Cosel did
not want to let him go, to which he had right, for he was a Polish
nobleman, therefore a free man.
The Prussian laughed, for he knew how many Polish noblemen had been
caught by the Prussians, and obliged to serve in their army, but he did
not say anything. Perhaps, had Zaklika not been so pale and looked so
miserable, he would have forced him to accept service in the regiment
of gigantic grenadiers, but Zaklika was looking wretched, and it would
have cost much to feed him up.
Therefore they did not hesitate to let him go. He returned at once to
Cosel, but, knowing that he had quarrelled, they did not listen to him
again at the door.
"Go to Dresden," said Cosel, "and tell everybody that you have left me.
Lehman will give you the money. Take it in gold. You will hear what
becomes of me. If I am free, you will come to me; if not, help me to
escape. If you arouse suspicion, and they would capture you, then
destroy the paper I have entrusted to you, but do not give it to any
one. Do not destroy it while you have any hope of escape; destroy it
only at the last extremity, but they must know nothing about its
destruction, so that they may be always in fear of its discovery."
She extended her hand to him. He kissed it and cried, but said not a
word. Then Cosel wrung her hands, and exclaimed,--
"There are still some hearts!"
Zaklika went out as though intoxicated.
The next day, when Von Sinen came to see her, he found her more merry,
more resigned and quieter. He thought that perchance she might return
the paper, that she would have pity on herself, but he soon learned
that he was mistaken. Cosel said to him when he entered,--
"I pity you. You will not gain the King's favours, my brave relation,
Loewendahl will not care for you; Flemming will not make you drunk, and
you will not get even a thousand thalers. I am so stubborn--mad! Is it
not true?"
"Then all my efforts were in vain?"
"Yes," said she, taking a ring from her finger. "I pity you, my
unsuccessful messenger, and I should like you to preserve a souvenir of
my goodwill: accept this ring. It is no longer an agreeable souvenir
for me, it makes me ache like a wound. Take it, pray!"
Von Sinen accepted the ring. He tried once more to persuade her, but
Cosel laughed.
"Spare yourself the trouble and me the worry. I know your arguments,
they will not persuade me."
Before leaving Halle, the Chamberlain came once again. He was sad, but
did not say anything. Cosel was surprised at his return.
"I pity you so much," said he, "that I cannot refrain from telling you
what you have to expect."
"I know that it is nothing pleasant," she interrupted, "but it would
not change my determination. I shall not return the promise signed by
the King. He was perfectly free to give it to me or not, but the King
cannot ask for the return of his promise given to a woman, and thus
cheat her. I cannot even suspect that it is the King's will. Such vile
men as Flemming and Loewendahl might wish to get hold of it without the
King's knowledge in order to make him pay for it. The King cannot ask
it from me!"
She turned and left the room. The same day Von Sinen left Halle; he
went away with a strange feeling. The first time he was sent to her, he
fulfilled his duty with the cold blood of a diplomat; little by little
the stability of this woman, her bravery, perseverance, character, made
such a deep impression on him that he was ashamed of his role. He
pitied her and felt humiliated.
He was going back more angry with those who sent him than with the
unfortunate woman who had sent him away with such an unshaken bravery
displayed in defence of her honour.
When he arrived at Dresden he had plenty of time for rest. The whole
Court was making preparations for a great festival, which was going to
be held at Moritzburg; they had not time to call him and ask him to
report the result of his mission, and he did not hasten himself. He was
glad that he could for at least a few days stay the decision of Cosel's
lot, which he thought would be still worse.
Moritzburg was a hunting lodge, built not far from Dresden, in the
woods. It was a charming little castle surrounded by old trees. The
King invited the whole Court there, many foreigners, as well as his
former favourites, the Princess Teschen, the Countess Koenigsmark,
together with the Countess Denhoff and her sister Pociej.
The site of the entertainment was a plain where game was to be driven
from the forest to be shot. Hard by was a lake on which boat races were
to be held.
The crowd of guests was a great one; the entertainment succeeded
perfectly, and as the guests did not retire to the tents prepared for
them very sober, the next day they were obliged to hunt for wigs,
shoes, and swords in the woods and bushes.
Von Sinen mixed with the crowd, and wandered here and there; all this
amusement seemed to him wild. The King was in an excellent humour, and
was very amiable to his dismissed favourites. The Countess Denhoff
burned with jealousy when he talked with the Princess Teschen,
Koenigsmark looked sneeringly at Denhoff when the King was chatting with
her.
Augustus was entirely taken up with the illuminations and the
magnificent feast, and when towards midnight everything was over, he
sat down to drink with his friends.
Here they let their tongues go; Flemming, Vitzthum, and Frisen could
talk as much as they wished, even about those ladies towards whom
Augustus was respectful.
They passed in review all the gross and scandalous stories of the
Court.
Loewendahl was sitting at the other end of the table.
"It seems to me," said the King to him, "that I have noticed Von
Sinen."
"He has returned from Halle," answered the Marshal sourly, looking at
the King.
"Von Sinen was sent to Cosel, what news has he brought?"
"The same as always," answered Loewendahl.
"You should have offered her anything she wished in exchange for that
paper, even freedom."
"She said that she would not part with it."
Augustus frowned.
"One must have done with her once for all," added Loewendahl.
"Yes, to-morrow we will send a letter to the King of Prussia, asking
for her extradition," said the King. "Then we will see what can be
done."
"And where does your Majesty order her to be put in the meantime?"
"Let her be taken to Nossen Castle, perhaps she will think it over
there. I cannot bear the daring war she has declared against me. I have
had enough of it. Denhoff splits my head with her!"
Those words, spoken in a moment of anger and under the influence of
wine, were seized upon and utilized the next day. Flemming reminded
Augustus of them.
In the letter to the King of Prussia, asking for Countess's
extradition, they gave as the reason daring speeches against Augustus,
as well as a plot against his life. The public threat justified it. The
letter was sent by a courier to Berlin.
King Frederick did not hesitate for a moment. Lieutenant Ducharmoi, of
the regiment of the Prince of Anhalt-Dessau, was called by his order.
"You will go to Halle," said the King to him, "and there you will find
the Countess Cosel. You will take her under escort, on your
responsibility, and you will conduct her to the frontier of Saxony;
there you will give her into the hands of a Saxon officer, who will
give you a receipt."
Ducharmoi went immediately to Halle, where he found Cosel.
Although prepared for anything bad, she paled at the sight of an
officer. Ducharmoi, after having saluted her, told her that he was
commanded by the King to conduct her to the frontier of Saxony, where
she would be delivered to the Saxon authorities.
She stood for a moment as if struck by a thunderbolt.
"What an injustice! What barbarity!" she exclaimed, and two streams of
tears flowed down her cheeks.
From that moment she said not a word more.
They ordered her to pack her things, and put them in a hired carriage.
Ducharmoi offered her his arm, and she descended to her carriage
without looking at anybody. The horses went off; the carriage being
escorted by a detachment of Prussian cavalry. During the whole of the
journey she gave no signs of life. At last the carriage stopped. Cosel
shivered; through the window she saw the Saxon uniforms worn by a
detachment of dragoons, who were to conduct her further. She called
Lieutenant Ducharmoi, who approached her carriage. Then she emptied her
pockets; she found a gold box and a beautiful watch, and handed them to
the officer.
"Pray, take that as a souvenir from me."
Ducharmoi hesitated.
"I beseech you to accept," said she, "it must not become a prey to
those horrid Saxons."
The money she gave to the Prussian soldiers. Then she drew the curtains
again, without asking what they were going to do with her.